Hello! I hope you're doing well, I love your writing + its amazing how crazy fast you can write!!
I wanted to see if i could request platonic yan Konig with a reader who can't really look after themselves bc they're too sleepy to properly care for themselves
so he comes and decides he it would be better if just looks after them instead and kidnaps brings reader home
Omg thank you bb <33 here you go
Platonic Yandere Konig with Sleepy Reader
He first met you when you were working the till at his local grocery store. You were a new hire, they had you sitting down in a chair instead of standing like all of the other cashiers.
You had a little sign in front of you in cute handwriting that read ‘My name is Y/n, I fall asleep sometimes. If I’m asleep, please press the green call button. Thank you!”
He looks down to the button mentioned, it’s connected to the light on the till that tells customers it’s open. You quietly greet him as you begin to scan his items, your movements a little bit sluggish.
“Hello.” He says back, tilting his head as you struggle to bag his items. Your head tilts forward and he tenses up, ready to catch you if you fall asleep sitting up. But you don’t, you snap out of it and you finish bagging everything. He pays for his groceries and he bids you a polite goodbye.
He worries about how you would get home if you randomly fall asleep. Do you have narcolepsy? He doesn’t think so, you just seemed to be tired.
He finds himself sitting on the bench outside of the store waiting for you to walk out after your shift is over, he can’t help himself. What if you fall asleep in the middle of the sidewalk? Are you even allowed to drive a car?
He sits there for about two hours with his groceries beside him on the bench before he sees you walk out of the store. Your eyebags are so much darker in the sunlight than they are in to store.
He watches you walk down the sidewalk a little bit before he gets up to follow. He stays about 30 feet behind you the whole way back to your house. You don’t even notice him because you’re so focused on staying away.
He watches as you stumble up the steps to your home, you have roommates that help look after you. He can tell because there is more than one car in the driveway. You fumble with the keys, practically leaning against the door to stay upright.
He goes to the store often now to check on you when you’re working, he’s memorized your schedule. He’s has to press the button a couple of times to get help from one of your coworkers while you’re asleep behind the till.
He knows your routine by heart, he’s watched you through your windows a couple of times to get used to your simple routine. You sleep in late, have breakfast, nap, lunch, nap, work, nap at work, nap, dinner, nap, shower, then you go to sleep. Very simple routine.
Kidnapping you was a little bit more difficult then he would have thought. Who knew that a little adrenaline rushing through your veins would wake you right up?
The sight of a large, masked man with a crowbar is enough to startle even the most steady person. He had to chase you around a bit, he’s never seen you move so fast in the time he’s been stalking you.
It’s terrifying, a mountain of a man chasing you through your house. You can’t get to the phone in time to call for help, he’s on you in a second, injecting you with a sedative.
virgin izuku, though a man, is helplessly respectful.
virgin izuku, who has not only not had sex before, but has never been in a relationship at all.
virgin izuku, who sees you one day in the pastry shop he frequents before going to teach, and his first thought is how he's seen you before but never noticed how pretty you look under the sun.
virgin izuku, who can't help how his mind races when he gets a good look at you simply in a rush— collar crooked, hair slightly frizzy and sticky with sweat— your gaze is laced with something like bashful nervousness at running late, hoping your order won't take too long.
virgin izuku, whose mind brings him that mental image of you at the most inconvenient and random times (often when he is laying alone in his room).
virgin izuku, who forces himself to introduce himself to you after several weeks.
virgin izuku, who seems to have an eye contact problem when you properly speak for the first time.
virgin izuku, who you find cute and begin to get along with. virgin izuku, who is already infatuated with you and you have no idea.
virgin izuku, who practically melts into the floor after you kiss for the first time.
virgin izuku, now your boyfriend, who loves the idea of having his hands on you but gets flustered way too easily and freaks out when he can feel your skin on his.
virgin izuku, who eventually warms up to physical contact, and now loves holding some part of you whenever he can.
virgin izuku, who happily accepts your kisses when you are in his apartment one night.
virgin izuku, whose all confidence goes away as soon as those kisses start getting a little more intense and you climb on top of him.
virgin izuku, who doesn't necessarily want it to stop, so he opts for getting lost in your embrace and trusting you to take charge, your lips perfectly melding together like puzzle pieces.
virgin izuku, who can barely handle it when you start grinding down into him, seemingly involuntarily.
virgin izuku, who very quietly mutters against your lips that he wants to feel you more after many minutes of him mustering up the courage to say that in the first place.
virgin izuku, whose eyes blow wide when he sees you are prepared, already having a condom on hand in your bag.
virgin izuku, who needs you to tell him what to do, even if you are also a virgin yourself.
virgin izuku, who is constantly asking "does this feel okay?" "is that good?" "like this?" while kissing on your neck and rubbing his thick fingers against your underweal as you navigate foreplay together.
virgin izuku, whose head spins at every little noise you make.
virgin izuku, who just stares for a while when you finally pull your panties off, only to be broken out of his trance by the sound of you giggling at him. his face blazes red.
virgin izuku, who doesn't care if you're smooth-shaven or not because he can't believe he's gotten this close at all.
virgin izuku, who stares at you when you pull his pants and boxers down but will immediately avert his gaze if you dare look back at him.
virgin izuku, who's a bit embarrassed about his underwear choice for the day (the print is several "PLUS ULTRA!"s in bright red text on a yellow background).
virgin izuku, who grips the life out of the sheets beneath him the second he feels your hand wrap around him.
virgin izuku, who watches with a shy smile as you lay yourself down on the bed for him.
virgin izuku, who awkwardly fumbles with the condom, failing more than once to put it on while you watch in both amusement and adoration.
virgin izuku, who turns to see you watching him, laying on your side and leaning your head on your hand, and he puts his now red face in his hands as you giggle yet again.
virgin izuku, who asks if you're sure about this like eight times as he lines himself up.
virgin izuku, whose apprehensiveness falls away when he starts to push into you, his mind consumed by the realization that he severely underestimated how good this would feel.
virgin izuku, who does not stop you when you pull him down to kiss him and have him lay atop you.
virgin izuku, who has to think really hard not to cum too early.
virgin izuku, who holds your hand during it, grounding himself more than you.
virgin izuku, who cries.
virgin izuku, who can't stop himself from confessing how he's dreamed of this so many times when he feels your pussy squeezing around him.
virgin izuku, who is quick to follow that up with letting you know that this is way better than whatever he imagined.
virgin izuku, who starts yapping and lowkey dirty talking you without realizing it. "mmh, you're... oh, man, you're incredible." "too good, sweet." "feels s'nice, oh..." "come on, come onnn..."
virgin izuku, who requests that you don't talk to him because it does too much to him and he doesn't wanna disappoint you.
virgin izuku, who ultimately lets you talk if you want to, and he endures it with tightly shut eyes, whining profusely. why must you make this so hard for him?
virgin izuku, who sinks as far as he can into you when he finally lets himself finish, whimpering with flexing legs.
virgin izuku, who knows that if he still had ofa, there would probably be green sparks flying off of him right now.
izuku, who weakly helps you finish after him, clumsily rubbing at your clit with a thumb while apologizing for cumming so fast. (he actually lasted pretty decently for his first time, but he feels like you got the short end of the stick. you disagree.)
izuku, who is mesmerized by how your body and face react to his touch, sharply sucking air through his teeth when he feels you squeeze around him as your orgasm washes over you.
izuku, who can't find the strength to move quite yet, and takes the opportunity to give you a shy kiss and whisper nice things to you. "that felt.. really nice."
izuku, who shakily pulls out with several whines before he shimmies the condom off of himself with zero finesse, only for some of the contents to spill onto your stomach. a little bit more suddenly spurts out of his cock at the mere sight.
izuku, who will 100% still act this way the next several times you two do this.
❤︎ SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend katsuki gets hit by a quirk, and splits into two versions of himself. this bodes both beautifully and horribly for you.
❤︎ CONTENT: boyfriend!katsuki, pro hero!katsuki, kat is actually lowk an asshole, light choking, making out, lots of petnames (sweetheart, princess, baby), cunnilingus (ew—that word), fingering, technical threesome, squirting … 18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: alternatively, y/n vs both of katsuki’s brain cells. also ty sm to @kamislop for beta reading !
♫ NOW PLAYING: what you want, angéle ft justice
read on ao3 | 3.9k words | masterlist.
“BABY, ‘M HOME!”
“Shut the fuck up—loud as shit, my God.”
“…We have explosions for hands.”
“And I said what I fuckin’ said!”
You hear the familiar jingle of Katsuki’s boots at the front door. Except, there’s double the sound there should be—louder belt clanking, extra foot stomping—and, at first, you think he’s brought back a friend. Probably Eijirō, maybe Izuku. But, as you leave the shared bedroom to the sound of the front door slamming shut, you remember the call you received from his redheaded bestie about an hour ago.
“Okay, I’d like to preface this with everything is fine, Kat is safe and unharmed—well. As unharmed as he can be, but, like—”
“Eijirō, you’re stressing me out.”
“Sorry—sorry! I, uh, just wanted to give you a heads up that he’s coming home early. He got hit with a quirk, and like—again, he’s fine, and Recovery Girl said he’d just have to wait it out, but. Just a heads up.”
Yeah. Vague as hell, and now, you understand why.
Either you’re going insane, or your eye sight is deteriorating with a quickness, or both—because once you reach the entrance to welcome your boyfriend home, you’re seeing double.
What. The fuck.
“Oh thank fuck—c’mere, Baby.”
Katsuki—a Katsuki, you suppose—starts moving independent of the other. He all but collapses into very confused arms, dropping his chin on your head and squeezing you tight. The other one glowers, messily shoving two pairs of boots under the bench with complete disregard for his strict organizational pattern.
“Um…”
You blink at the Katsuki that cradles you. He gives a soft smile in return, one that usually requires blood, sweat, and tears to crack (even if it takes you a significant less amount of blood, sweat, and tears than the average human—they’re blood, sweat, and tears nonetheless) and you don’t know what to do with it. Where to put it.
“Got hit with a fucker’s quirk,” the other Katsuki explains after giving up on making the boots fit. Typically, there aren’t two pairs, but one—and the shoe rack is feeling the added pressure.
“So…it’s the quirk that split you in two,” you ask, even though you know. The answer is staring you right in the face, but, like. Just in case.
The Katsuki still holding onto you grunts in agreement, and you finally manage to peel away. He steps back as the other Katsuki steps forward, and you finally get a good look at how identical they are. Which, obviously, but it’s still slightly alarming, nonetheless. Like…the shining twins, if they were blond and angry. And covered in grime.
“Holy shit…” your eyes dart between the two of them, trying to find discrepancies in anything other than mismatched dirt. You find none, save for the way they hold themselves. You need better names—you can’t keep calling them Katsuki and other Katsuki.
“Do…you know when it’s going to wear off?”
A self-indulgent question. Perhaps.
“Fuckin’—no.” Angry Katsuki digs a knuckle into his ear, and the other one yawns. “They gotta track the fucker down, first. Apparently, I can’t do my goddamn job like this.”
He gestures between the two of them, and you teeter your head in semi-agreement. The other Katsuki pipes up, and god, you need better names.
“’M not pissed about it, though,” He steps out of line to grab the hand limp by your side, kissing your knuckles with the lightest touch you’ve ever felt. “Means I get to see you.”
Oh?
“I am,” angry Katsuki growls, slapping his counterpart’s hand away from yours. “I should be out there, hunting that mitosis motherfucker.”
“If you go out there, you’re killing him,” other Katsuki defends. Angry Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“Fuckin’ exactly.”
Other Katsuki just sighs, turning back to you. Immediately his features soften along with his voice. “How’ve you been today, Baby? I left early.”
“Um…good? This is just…” you peer around Katsuki’s body to view the other one, who rolls his eyes again, almost completely ignoring your presence. That is, until:
“Ima fuckin’ shower,” he grumbles, and walks down the hall.
“A lot?” Other Katsuki finishes for you, watching his parallel until he disappears into the bedroom, and you nod.
Something like that.
“Okay. Kat.” You point to Angry Katsuki, who’s now glowering on the couch, much like he did at the front door, and much cleaner than before. Your finger shifts to Other Katsuki, until his head becomes a small point at the top of your fingernail. “Suki. That way, if I call, you both don’t come running. Cool?”
While Suki nods his head with diligence, Kat finally smiles. Not the soft smile that’s reserved for you, but the self-satisfied smile reserved for villains, the one that barely hides his hunger for blood.
“Hear that, Nerd? I’m Kat, not your bitch-ass.”
Suki blinks, relatively confused, and tips his head to the side. “Why the fuck does that matter?”
“’Cuz I’m the original!” Kat says loud and proud, digging a thumb into his chest. “Not you.”
“…Again, why the fuck does that matter,” Suki grumbles, less a question and more an observation. A statement. “We got split in two. We’re two halves of the same person, not a copy-paste.”
“I fuckin’ know that, shit stick.” Kat’s hands crackle at the prospect of being challenged, and while Suki tries to hide the way he shrinks in on himself, you throw a spare pillow at Kat’s head.
“Ow, what the fuck!”
“No explosions in the house!”
Kat grumbles, but his hands fizzle out. He shakes them out at his sides. “’M not doin’ this shit—’m goin’ to bed.”
“Ah-Ah! No,” you say, and Kat freezes like you grabbed him physically, like there’s an invisible wall that separates the living room from the rest of the house. “You said we’d watch that move tonight, remember?”
“We said,” he amends, looking unimpressed before jerking his head to Suki. “Make him watch it.”
“No! It’s exactly like you said—you both promised. Technically,” you smile and look at Suki, who, honestly, looks like there’s no other place he’d rather be—he just watches you talk with his chin propped on a hand and love in his eyes. “So. We’re both watching it.”
“Fuckin’—fine,” Kat groans, loud and obnoxious, and to the ceiling. He sits back down with a huff. “But I swear to God, if it’s some fuckin’ Twilight shit again—”
“It’s not.” You get up only to shove Kat over with a hip, quitting his manspreading, and make yourself enough room between them. He lets you. Suki wraps both arms around your middle, and cuddles you close and tight, like you might up and disappear tomorrow. “That was one time—”
“One horrible time, when I was forced to watch five fuckin’ movies of absolute bullshit—”
“It wasn’t that fuckin’ bad,” Suki defends with a quiet grumble, and you want to scoop him up and run away with him. “’S…campy.”
“Thank you,” you nod, before redirecting your attention to Kat, patting him on the leg. “See? Suki understands quality content when he sees it.”
“Get the fuck out my face.”
You don’t put on Twilight—but you do put on Argylle, and that’s not much better.
“So, you’re tellin’ me,” Kat trails off, and you watch the movie flicker in carmine eyes. “That the whole damn time, this chick was writing a book that predicts the future—”
“Specifically a spy-future, yes—”
“And, that’s why…y’know what? Fuck this shit, my head hurts.”
“You have no sense of whimsy,” you sigh, unimpressed. Kat rolls his eyes.
“Listen, Sweetheart,” He fills his voice with faux saccharine, artificial flavoring, and you scowl at the mockery. “I got a job—a real serious job. Don’t got fuckin’ time for ‘whimsy.’”
Kat hangs air quotes with a hand, and that just pushes your frown deeper.
“Oh, and I don’t?” you smile, but it’s just as artificial as his words. Kat glowers, and behind you, Suki goes:
“Uh oh…”
“Somethin’ like that.”
With a huff, you snatch him by blond spikes—and, if Kat is even a little tenderheaded as Katsuki is…
You yank and pull upward, and Kat rises with your grip. Yep. “Ow, what the fuck?! Ah—okay, fuck, I’m sorry—”
He hisses, face twisting in agony—and finally, you relent the torture. You let him go with a satisfied smile, and Kat snarls at you, rubbing the soft points of his head.
“What did we learn?”
Suki snickers under his breath. “Fuckin’ nothing.”
Kat scrambles at that, getting to his feet in preparation to attack. Fear flashes across Suki’s face, making you wonder if his statement was supposed to come out quieter, perhaps unheard. He scrambles over the arm of the couch, and you get thrown around in his rush.
“You’re fuckin’ dead meat!” Kat hollers. Suki takes off in a mad dash.
It isn’t before long that they’re chasing each other in circles around the couch, like a pack of wild dogs, snarling and huffing and puffing. (With the occasional spark—which you’re quick to put out.) You watch your movie, and occasionally, them, and eat the majority of the popcorn in the process.
Eventually, they collapse back onto the couch and into their respective sides, twin chests heaving and glistening in sweat until their breath makes the mile long trek to catch up.
“You two done?” You ask, but never take your eyes off the screen. It’s getting to the good part.
Suki nods. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kat snaps, and you double check to make sure he isn’t talking to you (because, if he is—you’re locking him in the basement), but he’s still glaring at Suki like he murdered his family. “You piss me the fuck off.”
“Clearly,” Suki snorts, this time quiet enough for Kat to not hear. Still vaguely out of breath, he squeezes your thigh to get attention, and slings his other arm behind you. “I wan’a kiss. Can I get a kiss, Baby?”
You giggle, because as stated, soft Katsuki is a Katsuki you’re used to having to work for, and then some. His hand lifts to your chin as you say, “Sure, Suki.”
And then, you’re getting snatched back by your pajama shirt, nearly choking in the process with an embarrassing and garbled noise.
“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” Kat grunts, and you nearly fall backwards into his lap. “My girlfriend.”
“Your—” Suki cuts himself off with a scoff, grabbing your hand and pulling you up again—up and away. “One, we’re the same damn person, she’s both our girlfriend. And two, I want my fuckin’ kiss.”
Back.
“Well, that’s too damn bad,” Kat huffs, and you’re yanked again. This is starting to get dizzying. “I don’ want your bitch lips all over her.”
Forth.
“Okay,” Suki chuckles, and you’re tipped forward. Seriously? “And, I don’t want your ugly ass mug anywhere near my girl, so—”
Back.
“Oh, now it’s ‘your girl’—I thought we—”
Forth.
“Yeah. My girl, ‘cuz you don’ even know how to treat her.”
Back—Forth.
“You’re loud, and rude, and angry—”
Back and Forth and Back and Forth.
“Y’don’t appreciate shit that she does for us, and it fuckin’ shows—”
Back and Forth and Back and Forth. Back and Forth and Back.
“Yeah, and she loves me for it anyway, Dipshit—”
Back and Forth and Back and Forth an—
“Can you two quit it!”
When they still, you go tumbling forward and into Suki’s lap—which, Kat doesn’t like very much, and grumbles under his breath about it.
“Sorry, Baby.”
“Fuckin’ what.”
“You guys realize I can kiss both of you, right?” Your words border on exasperated. Kat rolls his eyes.
“Fine—I get first.”
“No, I do!”
“I will blast you to goddamn smithereens.”
“Fine! At least I get my fuckin’ kiss—”
“Oh my god,” you groan aloud, running hands over your face and sinking deeper into the couch. It’s endless. “Y’know what? No. Stand up.”
You pat both of their backs to urge them upwards, and they follow. Standing side by side and watching you—and if you thought that one set of Katsuki’s eyes were intimidating enough, try two.
“Okay, Suki—you asked first, so you go first.”
Kat grumbles under his breath, something about ‘well if I fuckin’ knew that, woulda asked ages ago,’ but relents relatively quiet. Suki bends over with a smile, cradling the side of your face to lift it higher.
“Thank you, Baby.”
Katsuki’s lips always feel warm, and Suki’s are no different—they move slow and soft and patient, like he knows what’s coming, when it’s coming, so might as well take his time until he can see the finish line. He inhales like he could breathe you in, and the hand cupping your face tightens with want and satisfaction.
When Suki pulls away, you’re both breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Missed you.”
But, before you can respond—
Suki is shoved out of the way, out of frame, and in comes Kat, who would be on fire if he could. “Y’call that a fuckin’ kiss? Watch and learn, Loser.”
Kat grabs you by the chin and kisses you with weight. He presses into you with his upper body, using a free hand to rest on the back of the couch, and placing a knee between your legs. Kat kisses you into the cushions and out of any breath you have left, leaving you scrambling for air.
“How was that,” Kat asks once pulling away, dragging his thumb across your kiss-swollen lips. You swoon, before remembering that this Katsuki is downright evil.
“It was…um…” you try to say fine, try to say okay, I’ve had better, but the weight of two intense stares fill your veins and cloud your judgement. And, just overall ability to speak as a whole.
“See Dumbass, what’d I say?” Kat hollers over his shoulder, standing up to glare at his doppelgänger. “Kiss her right and she fuckin’ melts.”
Suki bristles at that, but doesn’t bite back with words. Instead, he quietly assumes Kat’s place with a hum, thumbing the highest point of your cheek as he looks down. He studies you.
“Mmm…looks pretty solid to me,” Suki mutters, tilting your head every which way, like he’s trying to find something that’s not there. Kat yells from the back, ‘shitty ass joke!’ “Wha’d’ya think, Baby? Who’s better?”
“Um,” you swallow, and try to stifle your inner goblin. “I don’t…I think I’ll need more than that to…y’know…know?”
And, yet. The goblin comes out, anyway. (At least she’s respectful, this time.)
Suki teeters his head in consideration, and Kat snorts from behind him. “Fuckin’ pervert.”
You gawk. Because, like, yes, but also, “how am I supposed to know based off a three second kiss?”
“Valid question.”
“Listen—I don’t know about Mr. Chastity over here, but mine was definitely longer than three seconds.”
Suki gives him a look over his shoulder, and though you can’t see it, you can guess based off the way he goes, “Seriously?”
“I said what I said.”
You see the tail end of Suki rolling his eyes as he turns back to you, and the look of pure annoyance on his face shifts to one of affection. His thumb brushes your cheek again, as he leans forward, close enough for you to feel his breath across your lips.
“Well, Baby? Should we prove that fucker wrong?”
But, you’re not paying attention to much else other than the way Suki’s lips round and soften to form words that you barely hear. So, you just nod, let out a quiet ‘uh huh,’ and let him close the distance.
Suki kisses you with more passion this time around, but less vigor and aggression than Kat. You feel comfortable and grounded, and gasp, hands finding the middle of his shirt as he tilts his head to the side. You don’t get kissed stupid like you do with Kat—like the earth got flipped upside down and you just have to deal with it—but held and loved, and that’s stupefying enough.
Suki moans into your mouth, making your body run both hot and cold. It takes ages and alcohol to convince Katsuki to make a sound, to stop holding himself back, but this one might not. This one might not, and God, if that doesn’t make your head spin.
A tongue licks the seam of your lips but never pushes further than that, just enough for you to be aware of the threat and the want, but never enough to give. You whine, pushing deeper—and Suki smiles against your lips like that was exactly what he wanted, before his hand encompasses the front of your neck to squeeze, restricting your airflow just enough.
When he pulls away, the hand around your neck slides to your collarbones, and your eyes flutter shut. It continues to snake lower, past the waistband of your sweats and even lower than that, until two fingers run along your folds. They’re gone as quick as they came, and Suki pulls them out to reveal—
“See? She’s soaked.”
Kat growls, but before he can say anything, Suki tucks both fingers into his mouth and sucks. It’s obscene, and you think you see his tongue poke through at some point.
But then, he’s getting shoved in the shoulder, falling into the couch and more importantly, away from you, as Kat takes his place between your legs. Before you have time to protest (which—you won’t, but you might’ve for a second, for like, posterity) Kat is shoving your sweats down to your ankles, clearly tired of playing fair.
“I’m sick of his shit,” he grumbles, shifting your hips forward until you’re nearly laying flat. “Aren’t you sick of his shit, Princess?”
You don’t really know what to say to that. Luckily, you’re not given much time to—Kat sticks his tongue out and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit, and dragging it back down.
“Fuckin’—take your goddamn time,” Suki growls, and Kat just rolls his eyes and continues his ministrations. “I worked hard to get her that fuckin’ wet, y’know—”
Kat only pulls his mouth away to give his double an incredulous look, pointing at your pussy like you’re not even there. “Oh, you think you did this.”
“I know I did,” Suki snarls at the slight, and when Kat chuckles around your clit, it makes your thigh seize. “But, fine—fuck her dry like an animal. See if I care when she comes runnin’ to me ‘cuz y’don’t know what the fuck you’re doin’.”
Kat doesn’t grace his words with more words, just flips a middle finger in his direction before that hand finds your thigh. Only to spread your legs wider, broaden his plate, and you nearly keel over when he sucks too hard.
“He bein’ too rough?” Suki coos, grabbing you by the jaw and running a thumb along it’s sharpest point. “’S okay if you can’t cum, Baby—he has absolutely no finesse.”
Suki rips Kat away from you by the hair, his lips flushed and glossed from you, and yanks him out of the way. Kat snarls and lets his palms pop, but one halfhearted glare from you, and they fizzle right out.
“He’s being a dick!” Kat defends, gesturing at the perpetrator with open hands—said perpetrator simply settles between your legs, licking his lips. Kat is ignored.
Suki moves a lot slower than Kat does—still hot and heavy, but languid, like he knows you’re not going anywhere any time soon. He licks you up and down, avoiding places that would do anything more than simmer. But, even low heat will eventually come to a boil, and your breath hitches when a finger brushes your entrance.
Kat yawns. “I’m fuckin’ bored.”
Suki rolls his eyes and can’t help but pull away, get another word in—but his finger finally quits (some of) the teasing and plunges right in. You shiver, then melt. “Well, that’s too damn bad.”
“Yeah, it is—make her scream or somethin’ before I fuckin’ fall asleep.”
“Oh, please fall asleep,” Suki insists, but never takes his eyes away from you—your pussy—as he berates his double, too fascinated by the way you squeeze and relax around him. “I’d love if you fell asleep—I could be both of us, and she wouldn’t even notice.”
Kat barks out a laugh, loud and sarcastic. “You get mad at me for bein’ rude, then you call her stupid? Some white knight.”
“No,” Suki says, and adds another finger and curls them upward—it makes your leg kick involuntarily, and it probably would’ve done some damage if he didn’t catch it in time. “I’m callin’ you basic. Bitch.”
“Oh, you fuckin—”
“Guys! Please!” You scream at the ceiling. You’re exhausted and annoyed, semi-horny and so far away from the finish line. “Stop arguing—do you want me to cum or not?”
And, well. That shuts them up quicker than you expected.
“Absolutely, Baby.”
“Ugh—fuckin’ whatever.”
Suki focuses on you, after that. Kat tries to distract him with playground insults, tugging at his hair like a childhood bully, but the most he gets in response is a middle finger. Suki hoists your thigh onto his shoulder, and, when you wiggle too much, uses a free hand to pin your waist in place.
It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time until you feel the fire in your belly turn dangerous, like wind carrying bonfire embers into trees to ignite them. It’s not your fault—there’s two pair of eyes when there should be one, equally eager, equally fascinated. Kat catches your chin and pulls you in for a rough kiss, and Suki’s eyes flutter when you squeeze around him, like he’s fingering himself and feeling every curve of his fingertips.
You squirm, understanding the specifics of the feeling that builds and hating them. “Ah fuck—think I’m gonna…?”
“Squirt?” Suki finishes with a knowing smile, like that’s what he’s been aiming for this whole time, and you bristle.
“Fuck you,” you pant, but it get infinitely harder to argue as your vision starts to blur with your breathing. “Yes, Asshole.”
“Hot,” Kat nods in agreement, and if you had the wherewithal to, you’d chuck a pillow in his face. Again.
“You know I hate this.” You give Suki an half-hearted glare, and he fights the smile growing on his face. “Why do you do this to me.”
“Because it’s hot,” Suki hums, and honestly, he deserves a pillow to the face as well. “C’mon, Baby—relax, let it happen.”
He starts stroking your thigh like that’s going to help any. It doesn’t, and the stick you use is no longer good enough to defend your impending orgasm, which is horrible, horrible news for the couch cushion. You’ll need to flip it over. Again.
(So—maybe you should just buy a new cushion, at this point. And avoid sitting in your usual spot on the couch.)
While the orgasm doesn’t catch you by surprise, the strength of it does. Your thighs squeeze around Suki’s head as much as they’re able—as much as he allows—and a hand finds Kat’s to hold on tight and squeeze. You feel Kat fall into your shoulder, or maybe you fall into his. Your body burns, buzzes, anything that starts with a b that sounds hot. You’re hot. On fire, actually.
You don’t open your eyes until the feeling subsides—in time to watch Suki pull away, face soaked, and the couch cushion even more so. Kat takes two fingers and runs them along your folds, only to dip them into his mouth and hum with contentment.
“Sweet, right?”
“Fuck yeah.”
And you, feeling the wet cushion under your back, haven’t decided whether you’re going to smother both (?) your boyfriends in their sleep.
(You make both of them sleep on the couch that night—the wet couch that’s their fault. Kat doesn’t get it, he didn’t even do anything. Suki accepts his fate with a knowing grin.)
Going out drinking with friends to celebrate with all the other fans, and meeting Johnny at a crowded divebar. An import from Scotland, he jokes: an' a big football fan.
He lays it on thick—
accent. charm. crooked, boyish grin. sweet words murmured into your ear—it's loud in the bar, crowded: he has to get close, doe, has to press against you, box you in against the back wall until you can't see anything else, anyone else, except him; the bracket of his arms, the solid press of his thigh; the rasp of his cheek, the scratch of stubble against your skin he leans down close to speak, lips peppering the shell of your ear. sweet things like you're so pretty, doe. prettiest thing in this whole town.
(he could just throw you over his shoulder, take you home to ma', and eat you up.)
—and despite yourself, it's working.
It's been a long time since you've felt this thrill—this need. Let yourself get pulled away from your friends in a crowded bar, pressed against cheap vinyl in a secluded corner as a man you barely know grabs your hips to keep you still, keep you tucked against him. Sloppy kisses beneath a framed picture of Elvis. Smearing. Wet. The scratch of stubble. The nip of teeth. A sting soothed with the lash of a soft, fleshy tongue. Fingers diving beneath the hem of your pants because he can't get enough. He's solid against you, warm—burning like a furnace. A heat you can feel, pulsing, between your hips.
You feel the buzz of alcohol a lot more, too. A potent thing in your veins—syrupy and thick; your head feels full of it, heavy and liquid. Your whole body is just that—liquid. A slow ooze. He's the only thing keeping you up, holding you steady. Without the press of his fingers, the nudging rolls of his hips, you'd melt into the sticky linoleum.
You thank him with a slurred murmur, a clumsy kiss, and he laughs it off. Tucks you tighter against him as he says to thank him later, when he brings you back to his hotel—
This isn't like you. You can't even remember his name—a laugh, and he whispers it again with an edge of teeth that feel like a reprimand; so you won't forget it this time—or how you got here, in this corner, with a man you vaguely remember offering to buy you a drink at the bar. His accent stood out, like it does now when he says come on, let's go, and just as suddenly as you ended up pressed against the wall, you're being pulled into his arms. Breathless and clumsy. Cute, he says, and it's a hazy, dimpled thing that tugs at the corner of his mouth.
You came here with friends. Know better than to leave without them, with a man you don't know—a man they don't know—but when you slur this into his chest, he peels away. Steps back. And that chasm makes you whine. Keening in the back of your throat because the space, the distance feels too big. Too wide. Your struck, suddenly, by thigmotaxis. A small, soft-bodied thing that's too vulnerable without the hard lines of his body propping you up. He fits like a corner for you to hide inside, and you miss that more than you should. Need it more than you can understand with your thoughts stuck in a gauzy web. In this state, the sheer size of him, the solid wall of skin-warmed muscle and meat, is anxiolytic.
He shushes you—more dimples. The edge of teeth. Steps back into place, and let's you melt against him, a safe nook, but his words rake across that part of you that knows this isn't normal, that this isn't like you. You've only had four drinks. Three of which he bought.
But when he says c'mon, doe, let's get outta here, all of the things you should say are damped by that ooze. That slick, sticky thing in the back of your head, cradled between your thighs. You nod, a slow, dizzy thing, and watch the shape of his maw shift up into a wide, sharp toothed grin.
It stays—a permanent etch across his too-handsome face; lingers in the spill of daylight when you wake up to something heavy, tight on your ring finger. There, pressed into the corners, all teeth and deep dimples, when the slow, steady drip of the night before comes back to you and you realise that instead of leading you back to his hotel, he took you to a sleazy, twenty-four church. The license signed—your messy, drunken scrawl on the paper confirming that you did, in fact, get married to a man you knew for less than an hour, with the bulk of that time being kissed senseless in a corner and told drink up, doe.
You slip out of the room when he's in the washroom, hurriedly running back to your apartment to scrub the night off in the shower—the phantom touch, the ghost of his words (am catholic, he'd said in the cab after telling the driver to head to the nearest, sleaziest church. cannae fuck before the ring, doe, no't' a good Catholic boy like me)—trying to find some fix for this mess you'd gotten yourself into. It can't be permanent. It can't be real.
The only place you feel safe is with your friends, family, but that charm he laid on so thick last night shows itself in a new light when you find him sitting at their table already. Oozing a sweetness that makes your teeth ache when you see the approval gleaming in their eyes as the story he tells is wrapped up in romance. In love at first sight. And the problem is that he's cunning. Too smart for his own good. He can see the vulnerability, the weakness in your family—in their penultimate dream for you: happiness, a family, one of your own—and he pounces. Convinces them that he's so good for you. That this spur of the moment decision wasn't as sudden as you keep telling them it was—chalking it up to embarrassment, of all things; that you were too shy to admit to having an online relationship with a man you'd never met before—and despite everything, they believe him.
Maybe it's wilful ignorance. Maybe he's just such a catch, a good guy, that they want this work out for you more than they want to see the cracks in a good man's veneer. Whatever the reason, it culminates in them welcoming him into the fold as your unexpected husband. Inviting him places as mean to get to know him—an opportunity for him to ooze as much charm as he needs to in order to sway them to his side. Spreading like a spore amongst your core group with the intention of sticking. Even going so far as to have your friends talk you out of a divorce, siding with him on the (manufactured) reasons why you two should stay together. Or—
give him a chance.
But it won't last long. Soap knows this. Eventually, the cracks will appear. Someone will look beyond what they wish you really had to see how unnerved by the situation you are—something he won't be able to chalk up to shyness or embarrassment for much longer. Not when you're so against this "sham" marriage.
Which is why he sneaks around to plan a "honeymoon" with your friends and family, getting them involved in a surprise trip back home with him.
Despite your misgivings about him, there is a brightside to this—a vacation you don't have to pay for. And what is the worst that could happen in a small cabin nestled in the Highlands, really.
Maybe you'll be able to convince him that divorce is the best choice while you're there.
people always talk about someone getting fucked stupid but what about a top going stupid while fucking someone? their brain shuts off and they just become a horny mutt with the only goal of getting off as hard as they can, breeding their sub. incoherent whimpers and moans of pure lust and desire. just a thought
control freak 2d man x perpetually sleepy reader. works great because the control freak will know exactly where you'll be when they leave for work....lazing about the house
30s-something virgin!König mistakes you for a prostitute when you start flirting with him one night at a club that Horangi and Krueger dragged him to. (The skimpy little outfit you have on adds to this misunderstanding--he's far from knowledgeable on trendy clubbing fashion).
He doesn't say anything until after the two of you have fucked, though, when he asks you how much he owes you for the best night of his life.
To say you're offended is an understatement.
Cue a flustered, awkward, newly deflowered König trying desperately to apologize to a furious you, all while trying to comprehend that a woman was genuinely interested in him for the first time--and quickly coming to an unshakable realization that he is not willing to let this once-in-a-lifetime girl go.
Im not really into piss kinks, but I AM into creepy disgusting men,
so imagine König abducting you and making you his basement wife, when he begins to ‘consummate’ the marriage you remember an emergency self defence tip you read online about wetting yourself so your attacker gets grossed out and leaves you alone, but when you release your bladder instead of stopping he just moans and cums in his pants
Reader who is so excited to finally sleep with Johnny; he talks a big game. Smiling at him as you straddle his hips, skin buzzing because you’re finally going to get a good lay.
He kisses you a little clumsy and his hands are shaking at your hips, but you chalk it up to him being excited. But poor virgin! Johnny is so fucking nervous, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, and he doesn’t know how to tell you.
Giving ghost a portal pussy thinking you might finally get that rough, brutal sex you always crave while he's gone...
Only for him to spend his time making out with your cunt like it's your lips. Peppering sweet kisses to your clit, licking into you slow and warm, almost longing. Ghost is horribly sappy when he's away from you and just wants to give you kisses. He could spend hours with the portal pressed to his lips and a hand squeezing his bulge.
Half the time he doesn't even make you cum, or only takes you out to give you a quick peck. It's absolutely torture and the second he gets home you're tying him up in retaliation.
this is not a new concept but lately i've been thinking about bakugou who comes across porn in his teens and is so horrified it has him avoiding sex and intimacy and vulnerability for YEARSSS
being overhaul’s doll wife is horrible bc you have no free will and he kinda doesn’t treat you like a person, but at least you can stay home all the time and eat good everyday and your linens are always freshly washed and he has this thing about compulsively keeping you in a pretty room and putting ribbons on you.
actually the worst part is that there’s some semblance of domesticity to it. you used to fight back more at the start of it all until overhaul very clearly threatened something tragic for your ankles, but now that you go along with whatever he wants it all feels very…. nice- in a foreboding kind of way.
unfortunately, it’s very comfortable to be preened over. he knows what he’s doing and how well he does it. overhaul avoids touching anyone at all cost, but with you it’s almost intimate- he takes his time in rubbing a sponge down your limbs during baths, in smoothing any folds and wrinkles out of your outfit when he’s done dressing you, in sitting you down for makeup or for lunch or for him to pick the right shoes to put on you like a princess (it’s always heels. the difficult kind to walk on. that way you’re always sitting or standing in place or walking slow- always in need of his help in every possible chance).
and you figure out the whole thing is sort of cathartic to him. a meditation. something he does to unwind. sometimes, you even hear him humming. sometimes you’ll even have a normal conversation about his day or work. sometimes, he’ll even take that wretched plague mask that haunts your dreams off and those days feel like you’re just a very doted wife with a very affectionate husband. it all feels so surreal, like a dream, that you so often forget that you’re trapped in this house for as long as overhaul sees fit.
he has combed the fight right out of you, wrapped you up in his spiderweb of a dollhouse that you can no longer escape from (not alive at least).he made you so utterly dependent of him and what you hate the most is that you’ve come to enjoy being his little prized possession.
