Not much to say, this is a random blurb for female!reader x Jeff the killer. I’ve been sick! But wanted to still at least post for you guys! Love you my little fireflies.
Your eyes flutter open, the house shrouded in the silent darkness of 3 AM. A shadow moves at the foot of your bed. Your heart lurches. A figure looms, hood covering most of his face . You can't see his eyes, but you feel them, cold and unyielding.
"Don't scream," he whispers, a low rumble that resonates through you. You bite down on your scream, your breath ragged. He steps closer, a knife glinting in his hand. Your body tenses, ready to run, ready to fight. But he doesn't advance further, just stands there, looking down at you.
"Why aren't you scared?" he asks, his voice a harsh rasp. You swallow, your mind racing. Your voice finds you, steady and calm.
"Should I be?"
He chuckles, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He's hesitant, uncertain. It's your turn to seize control. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze. His face is unnerving, but his eyes... they're what hold you captive. Dark, intense, yet... curious.
"Put the knife down," you say, surprising even yourself. He hesitates, then does as you ask. It clatters onto the nightstand, a stark echo in the silence. He didn't come here to hurt you, not really.
"You shouldn't be here," you say, your voice softer. He takes another step closer, his gaze roaming over you. You're in your nightgown, your favorite one, soft and comfortable. Now, it feels sheer under his scrutiny.
"I know," he admits, his voice laced with regret. He's conflicted, you realize. He didn't come here to ravage, to kill. He came for... something else. You sit up, pulling your blanket around you like a shield. He watches, his breath hitching as you move.
"Why are you here?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
He takes a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he speaks, it's not what you expect. "You're too pretty to kill."
The words hang heavy between you, laced with a double meaning. You see it now, the lust in his eyes. He's been watching you, stalking you. Not to end your life, but to stake a claim. A thrill runs through you, unexpected and exhilarating.
"Is that why you're here?" you ask, your voice huskier than before. His nod is barely perceptible, but it's there.
“Jeff” he mumbles out.
“Reader” you say.. looking up and down at him.
"You should go," you say, your heart pounding. He should go, you know that. But your body has other ideas. You want him to stay, to touch you. You want him to take that hood off.
He hesitates, torn. Then, without a word, he reaches up and pulls off his hood. His face is revealed, strong jawline shadowed with stubble, dark eyes that burn into yours. You gasp softly at his raw, primal beauty. He's not the monster you thought, not really. He's a man, hungry and desperate.
"Why did you come here tonight?" you ask again, your voice laced with invitation.
His answer is a growl as he pounces, pushing you back onto the bed. Your blanket falls away, your nightgown barely covering you. He hovers above you, his gaze feasting on your body.
"Because I can't stand back any longer," he rasps, his voice gravel-rough. "Because you're fucking beautiful, and I want you."
Your body responds to his words, to his proximity. You arch against him, your nightgown riding up. His gaze follows the movement, lingering on the soft rise of your breasts, the curve of your hips. He swallows hard, his hands clenching on either side of you.
"Last chance," he grinds out, his jaw tense. " Tell me to leave."
But you don't. Instead, you reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. When he opens them again, there's a fire burning in their depths.
"I like pretty things," he says, his voice low. "And I like them broken."
Your heart leaps, a dark thrill coursing through you. You should be scared, you know that. But all you feel is a burning desire, hot and insistent. You want him to break you. You want him to use you.
"You can leave," you whisper, "but I don't want you to."
His growl rumbles through you as he crashes down, his lips finding yours in a punishing kiss. His hands roam your body, bruising in their intensity. You meet his passion, your nails digging into his back as you pull him closer.
He tears away from your lips, his breath ragged. "You should know," he says, his voice rough, "I don't make love. I fuck."
You meet his gaze, unafraid. "Then fuck me."
His growl is primal as he tears off your nightgown, the delicate fabric no match for his rough touch. You're bare to him, your body on display. He drinks you in, his eyes appreciative and hungry.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he rasps, his hands finding your breasts. He squeezes, his thumbs flicking over your hardening nipples. You gasp, arching into his touch.
He leans down, his tongue replacing his thumbs. He licks, he sucks, he bites. You're writhing beneath him, your hands tangled in his hair. He releases you with a final lick, moving down your body.
"You taste as good as you look," he says, his voice a low rumble. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them apart. You resist briefly, but his gaze, fierce and intense, holds you captive. Slowly, you comply.
He looks at you, his gaze dark and intense. Then he leans down, his mouth finding your core. His tongue delves in, exploring, tasting. You gasp, your hips jerking. He's relentless, his mouth working you into a frenzy.
Your orgasm builds quickly, his tongue hitting all the right spots. You're a mess of gasps and moans, your hands gripping his hair tightly. As you fall over the edge, you scream his name.
He lifts his head, licking his lips clean. You look down at him, your body slack with satisfaction. He smiles, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips.
"That was just the beginning," he promises.
He reaches for his belt, undoing it with jerky movements. You watch, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. When he's finally free, his cock springing into view, you lick your lips. He groans, his cock twitching.
"Don't do that unless you're ready to be fucked," he warns.
You smile at him, challenging. "What if I am?"
His growl is instantaneous as he pounces, his body covering yours. He lines himself up and thrusts in hard, burying himself to the hilt. You gasp at the invasion, but it quickly turns into a moan as he starts to move.
He's rough, brutal even. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you. You meet him thrust for thrust, your body taking everything he gives and demanding more.
Your bed creaks beneath you, the rhythmic sound filling the room along with your gasps and moans. He leans down, his mouth finding yours. He kisses you, hard and deep, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock.
You're approaching the edge again, your body tightening. He feels it, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. He swallows your scream, his body tensing as he finds his release.
He collapses on top of you, his body heavy and spent. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. As your breathing returns to normal, he lifts his head, his gaze finding yours.
"Thank you," he says softly.
You smile at him, tracing his jawline again. "Now leave."
He hesitates, but he obeys. He rolls off you, pulling himself together. He picks up his mask, his knife, but he doesn't put them away. He looks at you one last time, his gaze lingering on your body.
"Goodbye," he says, his voice soft.
You don't reply, just watch as he slips out of your room, out of your house. You listen as his footsteps fade away, then you get up, locking the door behind him.
You climb back into bed, your body deliciously sore. You close your eyes, a smile on your lips. You'll see him again, you know that. But for now, it's just you and your memories.
And isn't that a pleasant thought to fall asleep to?
Description: Brian comes home from a painful mission with Tim all pent up and stressed, Finger sucking, P in V.
Work count: 2k
You find Brian pacing in his dimly lit bedroom, the weight of their latest mission with Tim still etched on his face. He stops mid-stride, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw relax slightly. "You're here," he says, his voice low and relieved. He crosses the room, his boots thudding softly on the worn wooden floor, and takes your hand, pulling you close. "I need this, now," he murmurs, his breath hot on your ear.
Before you can respond, he's blindfolding you, the silk tie cool and smooth against your skin. The room grows darker, the last remnants of light disappearing as he binds the tie securely behind your head. You hear the rustle of fabric as he moves, the creak of leather as he steps closer, his breath now hot on your neck.
"Hands on the wall," he commands, his voice firm yet gentle. You comply, your palms pressing against the cool, rough surface of the brick wall. You can hear the jingle of his belt buckle, the zip of his jeans, and you take a deep breath, your heart starting to race.
Suddenly, his hands are on you, urgent and insistent. He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back against him. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing against you, making you gasp. He reaches around, his hand sliding up your stomach, fingers finding your mouth. "Bite down if you need to," he growls, pushing two fingers past your lips.
You obey, the salty taste of his skin filling your mouth as you sink your teeth into his fingers. He lets out a low moan, his other hand moving to unbutton your jeans, pulling them down along with your panties in one smooth movement. You feel the cool air on your skin, followed by the heat of his hand as he cups you, his thumb finding your clit, making you moan around his fingers.
He removes his hand from your mouth, replacing it with something smooth and hard. A bottle. "Don't drop it," he orders, his voice strained. You can hear the pop of the lid, the squelch of lube as he slicks himself up. Then he's at your entrance, pushing into you with one quick thrust.
You gasp, the intrusion sudden and intense, but he doesn't give you time to adjust. He starts moving, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into you. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you in place. You can feel every inch of him as he moves in and out, the pleasure building with each thrust.
You brace yourself against the wall, the bottle clutched tightly in your hand. You can hear his ragged breaths, his low moans as he fucks you, the sound of your own wetness as he slides in and out. You're close, the pleasure building in your core, ready to explode.
Suddenly, he stops, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing them roughly through your shirt. "Not yet," he pants, his voice ragged. "Not until I say."
He releases you, his hands moving to your hips again. He starts moving again, slower this time, his thrusts long and deep. You can feel him filling you completely, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with each thrust. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out, the pleasure almost too much to bear.
"You're mine," he grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. "Say it."
"i’m yours," you pant, the words coming out automatically.
"No," he snarls, slamming into you. "Say it. Say 'I'm yours, Brian.'"
"I'm yours, Brian," you gasp, the words barely comprehensible.
"That's right," he growls, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. "Come for me. Now."
You obey, the pleasure exploding inside you, your body convulsing as you come. You hear him grunt, feel him swell inside you as he comes too, his body shuddering against yours.
He pulls out slowly, his hands gently removing the bottle from your grasp. You can hear the thud as it lands on the floor, followed by the rustle of fabric as he cleans himself up. Then he's untying the blindfold, the room coming back into focus slowly.
He's looking at you, his face still flushed, his eyes soft. "I needed that," he says, his voice gentle now. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you."
You smile at him, your body aching in the best possible way. "Anytime," you say, leaning into his touch. And you mean it.
Not much to say, this is a random blurb for female!reader x Jeff the killer. I’ve been sick! But wanted to still at least post for you guys! Love you my little fireflies.
Your eyes flutter open, the house shrouded in the silent darkness of 3 AM. A shadow moves at the foot of your bed. Your heart lurches. A figure looms, hood covering most of his face . You can't see his eyes, but you feel them, cold and unyielding.
"Don't scream," he whispers, a low rumble that resonates through you. You bite down on your scream, your breath ragged. He steps closer, a knife glinting in his hand. Your body tenses, ready to run, ready to fight. But he doesn't advance further, just stands there, looking down at you.
"Why aren't you scared?" he asks, his voice a harsh rasp. You swallow, your mind racing. Your voice finds you, steady and calm.
"Should I be?"
He chuckles, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He's hesitant, uncertain. It's your turn to seize control. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze. His face is unnerving, but his eyes... they're what hold you captive. Dark, intense, yet... curious.
"Put the knife down," you say, surprising even yourself. He hesitates, then does as you ask. It clatters onto the nightstand, a stark echo in the silence. He didn't come here to hurt you, not really.
"You shouldn't be here," you say, your voice softer. He takes another step closer, his gaze roaming over you. You're in your nightgown, your favorite one, soft and comfortable. Now, it feels sheer under his scrutiny.
"I know," he admits, his voice laced with regret. He's conflicted, you realize. He didn't come here to ravage, to kill. He came for... something else. You sit up, pulling your blanket around you like a shield. He watches, his breath hitching as you move.
"Why are you here?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
He takes a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. When he speaks, it's not what you expect. "You're too pretty to kill."
The words hang heavy between you, laced with a double meaning. You see it now, the lust in his eyes. He's been watching you, stalking you. Not to end your life, but to stake a claim. A thrill runs through you, unexpected and exhilarating.
"Is that why you're here?" you ask, your voice huskier than before. His nod is barely perceptible, but it's there.
“Jeff” he mumbles out.
“Reader” you say.. looking up and down at him.
"You should go," you say, your heart pounding. He should go, you know that. But your body has other ideas. You want him to stay, to touch you. You want him to take that hood off.
He hesitates, torn. Then, without a word, he reaches up and pulls off his hood. His face is revealed, strong jawline shadowed with stubble, dark eyes that burn into yours. You gasp softly at his raw, primal beauty. He's not the monster you thought, not really. He's a man, hungry and desperate.
"Why did you come here tonight?" you ask again, your voice laced with invitation.
His answer is a growl as he pounces, pushing you back onto the bed. Your blanket falls away, your nightgown barely covering you. He hovers above you, his gaze feasting on your body.
"Because I can't stand back any longer," he rasps, his voice gravel-rough. "Because you're fucking beautiful, and I want you."
Your body responds to his words, to his proximity. You arch against him, your nightgown riding up. His gaze follows the movement, lingering on the soft rise of your breasts, the curve of your hips. He swallows hard, his hands clenching on either side of you.
"Last chance," he grinds out, his jaw tense. " Tell me to leave."
But you don't. Instead, you reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly. When he opens them again, there's a fire burning in their depths.
"I like pretty things," he says, his voice low. "And I like them broken."
Your heart leaps, a dark thrill coursing through you. You should be scared, you know that. But all you feel is a burning desire, hot and insistent. You want him to break you. You want him to use you.
"You can leave," you whisper, "but I don't want you to."
His growl rumbles through you as he crashes down, his lips finding yours in a punishing kiss. His hands roam your body, bruising in their intensity. You meet his passion, your nails digging into his back as you pull him closer.
He tears away from your lips, his breath ragged. "You should know," he says, his voice rough, "I don't make love. I fuck."
You meet his gaze, unafraid. "Then fuck me."
His growl is primal as he tears off your nightgown, the delicate fabric no match for his rough touch. You're bare to him, your body on display. He drinks you in, his eyes appreciative and hungry.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he rasps, his hands finding your breasts. He squeezes, his thumbs flicking over your hardening nipples. You gasp, arching into his touch.
He leans down, his tongue replacing his thumbs. He licks, he sucks, he bites. You're writhing beneath him, your hands tangled in his hair. He releases you with a final lick, moving down your body.
"You taste as good as you look," he says, his voice a low rumble. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them apart. You resist briefly, but his gaze, fierce and intense, holds you captive. Slowly, you comply.
He looks at you, his gaze dark and intense. Then he leans down, his mouth finding your core. His tongue delves in, exploring, tasting. You gasp, your hips jerking. He's relentless, his mouth working you into a frenzy.
Your orgasm builds quickly, his tongue hitting all the right spots. You're a mess of gasps and moans, your hands gripping his hair tightly. As you fall over the edge, you scream his name.
He lifts his head, licking his lips clean. You look down at him, your body slack with satisfaction. He smiles, a slow, dangerous curve of his lips.
"That was just the beginning," he promises.
He reaches for his belt, undoing it with jerky movements. You watch, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. When he's finally free, his cock springing into view, you lick your lips. He groans, his cock twitching.
"Don't do that unless you're ready to be fucked," he warns.
You smile at him, challenging. "What if I am?"
His growl is instantaneous as he pounces, his body covering yours. He lines himself up and thrusts in hard, burying himself to the hilt. You gasp at the invasion, but it quickly turns into a moan as he starts to move.
He's rough, brutal even. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you. You meet him thrust for thrust, your body taking everything he gives and demanding more.
Your bed creaks beneath you, the rhythmic sound filling the room along with your gasps and moans. He leans down, his mouth finding yours. He kisses you, hard and deep, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock.
You're approaching the edge again, your body tightening. He feels it, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. He swallows your scream, his body tensing as he finds his release.
He collapses on top of you, his body heavy and spent. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. As your breathing returns to normal, he lifts his head, his gaze finding yours.
"Thank you," he says softly.
You smile at him, tracing his jawline again. "Now leave."
He hesitates, but he obeys. He rolls off you, pulling himself together. He picks up his mask, his knife, but he doesn't put them away. He looks at you one last time, his gaze lingering on your body.
"Goodbye," he says, his voice soft.
You don't reply, just watch as he slips out of your room, out of your house. You listen as his footsteps fade away, then you get up, locking the door behind him.
You climb back into bed, your body deliciously sore. You close your eyes, a smile on your lips. You'll see him again, you know that. But for now, it's just you and your memories.
And isn't that a pleasant thought to fall asleep to?
Description: Brian comes home from a painful mission with Tim all pent up and stressed, Finger sucking, P in V.
Work count: 2k
You find Brian pacing in his dimly lit bedroom, the weight of their latest mission with Tim still etched on his face. He stops mid-stride, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw relax slightly. "You're here," he says, his voice low and relieved. He crosses the room, his boots thudding softly on the worn wooden floor, and takes your hand, pulling you close. "I need this, now," he murmurs, his breath hot on your ear.
Before you can respond, he's blindfolding you, the silk tie cool and smooth against your skin. The room grows darker, the last remnants of light disappearing as he binds the tie securely behind your head. You hear the rustle of fabric as he moves, the creak of leather as he steps closer, his breath now hot on your neck.
"Hands on the wall," he commands, his voice firm yet gentle. You comply, your palms pressing against the cool, rough surface of the brick wall. You can hear the jingle of his belt buckle, the zip of his jeans, and you take a deep breath, your heart starting to race.
Suddenly, his hands are on you, urgent and insistent. He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back against him. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing against you, making you gasp. He reaches around, his hand sliding up your stomach, fingers finding your mouth. "Bite down if you need to," he growls, pushing two fingers past your lips.
You obey, the salty taste of his skin filling your mouth as you sink your teeth into his fingers. He lets out a low moan, his other hand moving to unbutton your jeans, pulling them down along with your panties in one smooth movement. You feel the cool air on your skin, followed by the heat of his hand as he cups you, his thumb finding your clit, making you moan around his fingers.
He removes his hand from your mouth, replacing it with something smooth and hard. A bottle. "Don't drop it," he orders, his voice strained. You can hear the pop of the lid, the squelch of lube as he slicks himself up. Then he's at your entrance, pushing into you with one quick thrust.
You gasp, the intrusion sudden and intense, but he doesn't give you time to adjust. He starts moving, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into you. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you in place. You can feel every inch of him as he moves in and out, the pleasure building with each thrust.
You brace yourself against the wall, the bottle clutched tightly in your hand. You can hear his ragged breaths, his low moans as he fucks you, the sound of your own wetness as he slides in and out. You're close, the pleasure building in your core, ready to explode.
Suddenly, he stops, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing them roughly through your shirt. "Not yet," he pants, his voice ragged. "Not until I say."
He releases you, his hands moving to your hips again. He starts moving again, slower this time, his thrusts long and deep. You can feel him filling you completely, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with each thrust. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out, the pleasure almost too much to bear.
"You're mine," he grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. "Say it."
"i’m yours," you pant, the words coming out automatically.
"No," he snarls, slamming into you. "Say it. Say 'I'm yours, Brian.'"
"I'm yours, Brian," you gasp, the words barely comprehensible.
"That's right," he growls, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. "Come for me. Now."
You obey, the pleasure exploding inside you, your body convulsing as you come. You hear him grunt, feel him swell inside you as he comes too, his body shuddering against yours.
He pulls out slowly, his hands gently removing the bottle from your grasp. You can hear the thud as it lands on the floor, followed by the rustle of fabric as he cleans himself up. Then he's untying the blindfold, the room coming back into focus slowly.
He's looking at you, his face still flushed, his eyes soft. "I needed that," he says, his voice gentle now. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you."
You smile at him, your body aching in the best possible way. "Anytime," you say, leaning into his touch. And you mean it.
You've been waiting all day, the hours ticking by like centuries. Izuku Midoriya's key in the lock sends a jolt through you. You're on the couch, a book open in your lap, but you haven't read a word in hours. The door creaks open, and there he is, his tie loose, a smile on his face. "Hey, sweetheart," he says, dropping his bag by the door.
"Hey," you reply, your voice a little breathless. You've been thinking about this all day, the moment he walks through that door. You stand, the book falling to the floor unnoticed.
He steps closer, his gaze flicking over you. "You okay?" he asks, a hint of concern in his voice. But there's something else too, a spark in his eyes.
"I'm more than okay," you say, taking a step towards him. Your heart pounds in your chest, a rhythm that matches the need pulsing between your legs. You reach out, your fingers tracing the edge of his collar. "I've been waiting for you."
He catches your hand, his thumb stroking the inside of your wrist. "Is that so?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what, exactly, have you been waiting for?"
You bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. "This," you whisper, leaning in to press your lips to his. It's a soft kiss, a promise of more. He deepens it, his hands cupping your face, his tongue demanding entry. You comply, a soft moan escaping you.
His hands drop to your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, hard against your stomach, and it sends a thrill through you. You've done this before, but it's always been hurried, in the dark, under the covers. Today, you want more. You want to take your time, to explore every inch of him.
You pull back, your breath coming in short gasps. "Sit down, Izuku," you say, pushing gently on his chest. He raises an eyebrow but complies, sitting on the couch. You straddle him, your knees on either side of his thighs.
He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands resting on your thighs.
You smile, leaning down to kiss him again. "I'm doing whatever I want," you say, your voice a little reckless. You start to move, grinding against him, slow at first, then faster as his grip on your thighs tightens.
He lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the couch. "Fuck, that feels good," he says, his voice rough. "You're such a good girl, doing what you want."
The words send a surge of heat through you. You've never been one for labels, but when he calls you a good girl, it's like a switch flips inside you. You moan, riding him harder, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage.
He helps, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you, urging you on. "That's it, baby," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Ride me just like that."
You do, losing yourself in the rhythm, in the feel of him beneath you. You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tight, ready to snap.
"Not yet," he says, reading your body like an open book. "Not until I say so."
You whimper, leaning down to kiss him again. He takes advantage, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, his hands moving to cup your breasts through your shirt. You gasp, arching into his touch.
He chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "You're so responsive," he says, his fingers brushing against your nipples. "So fucking perfect."
You can't respond, not with words. You can only move, only feel. You grind down on him, chasing the friction, the pressure building inside you.
"Not yet," he says again, his hands moving to your arms, pushing you back slightly. "I want to watch you, baby. I want to see you come apart."
You lean back, your hands braced on his knees, giving him the view he wants. You can feel the cool air on your skin, the heat of his gaze on you. You move, slow and steady, feeling every inch of him.
He watches, his eyes never leaving you. "That's it, sweetheart," he says, his voice thick with desire. "Come for me."
The words send you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he finds his own release.
You collapse against him, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "You're incredible," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You smile, your eyes already starting to flutter closed. "You're not so bad yourself," you say, your voice soft with satisfaction.
He chuckles, his hands stroking up and down your back. "I'll take that as a compliment," he says, his voice warm and content. "Come on, let's get cleaned up and start again."
You look up at him, a wicked grin on your face. "Oh, I like the sound of that," you say, already ready for round two. It's going to be a good night.
You've been waiting all day, the hours ticking by like centuries. Izuku Midoriya's key in the lock sends a jolt through you. You're on the couch, a book open in your lap, but you haven't read a word in hours. The door creaks open, and there he is, his tie loose, a smile on his face. "Hey, sweetheart," he says, dropping his bag by the door.
"Hey," you reply, your voice a little breathless. You've been thinking about this all day, the moment he walks through that door. You stand, the book falling to the floor unnoticed.
He steps closer, his gaze flicking over you. "You okay?" he asks, a hint of concern in his voice. But there's something else too, a spark in his eyes.
"I'm more than okay," you say, taking a step towards him. Your heart pounds in your chest, a rhythm that matches the need pulsing between your legs. You reach out, your fingers tracing the edge of his collar. "I've been waiting for you."
He catches your hand, his thumb stroking the inside of your wrist. "Is that so?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what, exactly, have you been waiting for?"
You bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. "This," you whisper, leaning in to press your lips to his. It's a soft kiss, a promise of more. He deepens it, his hands cupping your face, his tongue demanding entry. You comply, a soft moan escaping you.
His hands drop to your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, hard against your stomach, and it sends a thrill through you. You've done this before, but it's always been hurried, in the dark, under the covers. Today, you want more. You want to take your time, to explore every inch of him.
You pull back, your breath coming in short gasps. "Sit down, Izuku," you say, pushing gently on his chest. He raises an eyebrow but complies, sitting on the couch. You straddle him, your knees on either side of his thighs.
He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands resting on your thighs.
You smile, leaning down to kiss him again. "I'm doing whatever I want," you say, your voice a little reckless. You start to move, grinding against him, slow at first, then faster as his grip on your thighs tightens.
He lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the couch. "Fuck, that feels good," he says, his voice rough. "You're such a good girl, doing what you want."
The words send a surge of heat through you. You've never been one for labels, but when he calls you a good girl, it's like a switch flips inside you. You moan, riding him harder, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage.
He helps, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you, urging you on. "That's it, baby," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Ride me just like that."
You do, losing yourself in the rhythm, in the feel of him beneath you. You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tight, ready to snap.
"Not yet," he says, reading your body like an open book. "Not until I say so."
You whimper, leaning down to kiss him again. He takes advantage, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, his hands moving to cup your breasts through your shirt. You gasp, arching into his touch.
He chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "You're so responsive," he says, his fingers brushing against your nipples. "So fucking perfect."
You can't respond, not with words. You can only move, only feel. You grind down on him, chasing the friction, the pressure building inside you.
"Not yet," he says again, his hands moving to your arms, pushing you back slightly. "I want to watch you, baby. I want to see you come apart."
You lean back, your hands braced on his knees, giving him the view he wants. You can feel the cool air on your skin, the heat of his gaze on you. You move, slow and steady, feeling every inch of him.
He watches, his eyes never leaving you. "That's it, sweetheart," he says, his voice thick with desire. "Come for me."
The words send you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he finds his own release.
You collapse against him, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "You're incredible," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You smile, your eyes already starting to flutter closed. "You're not so bad yourself," you say, your voice soft with satisfaction.
He chuckles, his hands stroking up and down your back. "I'll take that as a compliment," he says, his voice warm and content. "Come on, let's get cleaned up and start again."
You look up at him, a wicked grin on your face. "Oh, I like the sound of that," you say, already ready for round two. It's going to be a good night.
This is probably favorite of my work so far! Hope yall like it! ♡•°
TW/CW: NSFW, Cursing
A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)
Toby is really good at aftercare, he loves you so much, he has to take care of you! But… sometimes he's so exhausted he completely forgets aftercare even exists and you guys just cuddle until you remind him.
B = Body Part (A favorite body part of theirs and yours)
Toby likes his mouth because it makes you basically ascend every time it's on your pussy.
His favorite body part of yours would definitely be your thighs or waist.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum)
He likes to cum inside you, but he also likes cumming down your throat just so you'll eat it.
He gets really upset if you don't swallow everything.
D = Dirty Secret (A dirty secret they have)
You already know he steals and perks off into your panties sometimes, you know he's into some weird things, but something he hasn't shared with you yet is his fantasies of having a threesome. With Tim probably, mostly because he knows and trusts him to take care of you like he does. He also has fantasies of you cockwarming him.
E = Experience (how experienced are they?)
I headcanon that he has been in maybe 1 or two relationships before you (probably Nat or smth of the like), so I'd say he has some experience, but he fucks you like a needy dog and acts like that experience is thrown out the window the second he's inside of you.
F = Favorite Position (self explanatory)
He likes doggy style, but he's mostly a missionary or a cow girl guy. He's definitely down to explore more positions. Pretty Vanilla? But not boring.
G = Goofy (Are they silly or serious in bed?)
He's serious in a needy and desperate way. Absolute horndog, basically rearranging your organs while simultaneously being loud and whiney.
H = Hair (How groomed are they down there? Do the carpets match the drapes?)
He's definitely got a happy trail, it's pretty unkept down there. He trims the jungle down there maybe once a month. That happy trail STAYS, though.
I = Intimacy (How are they in the moment? What's the romantic aspect like?)
He isn't romantic at all. Literally like a dog on viagra. He sweet talks you, though. Gives you praise through his incessant stuttering.
J = Jack off (How often does he jerk off?)
Not ALL the time. But usually when you're gone or not in the mood. But that's usually it.
K = Kinks (What kinks do they have?)
It's a short list. Panty sniffing, Exhibitionism, Biting, and Orgasm denial (receiving), and praise (receiving). Just the thought of watching someone he trusts fuck you while he can't do anything makes him hard. Marking you up is his favorite thing to do between pounding you and you being on top.
L = Location (Where do they prefer to do the deed?)
He likes to fuck ypu in the bathroom or his bedroom. He's pretty rigid about it because even though he's okay with sharing as stated above, he just gets too embarrassed being watched.
M = Motivation (What gets their twig rigid?)
Praise from you, and when you get all bratty with him. He just wants to put a kid in you when you're being a bitch, ong. He also gets incredibly flustered when you flirt with him, in any context.
N = NO (Something they refuse to do)
He won't do any gross/extreme kinks. Won't cut you up, won't do watersports or scat, won't do anything drug related, etc etc.
O = Oral (Giving or Receiving?)
It depends. If he's hungry for your taste, he'll eat you out like a starved man, but if he's just regular horns, he'll get you on your knees.
P = Pace (Fast and Rough or Slow and Sensual?)
He's fast and rough and lost in his own pleasure most of the time. He loves when you moan his name, he speeds up when you do. It's really cute how driven he is all because you love him.
Q = Quickies (Opinion on Quickies and how often they'll do it)
He loves Quickies. He gets embarrassed by how needy he gets in public, so you two do a quicky or two every 2 weeks or so.
R = Risks (Will they experiment?)
Yea. He's pretty easy to persuade into experimenting with things, whether that's toys, different positions, or even different kinks. As long as it's not too extreme or weird.
S = Stamina (How long can they go?)
He usually has okay stamina. He doesn't know when he gets tired, so he can go until you're done or until he passes out on top of you. Which is usually between 2 - 3 rounds depending on the day.
T = Toys (Do they use toys? On themselves or their partner?)
Usually he doesn't do toys, not very often at least, but he will if you ask him to. He's down to use a vibrate on you while he fingers you. Or even let you use a flashlight on him just because.
U = Unfairness (how much do they tease, if at all?)
He usually gets straight to the point. Does tease you sometimes, but he usually just can't wait. Although mid-round, he'll just stop and sit there smirking down at you while you whine. (That's usually if you were being a brat before-hand, though)
V = Volume (how loud are they and what sounds come out of that pretty mouth?)
Loud as FUCK. Like- his moans and whines reverberate off the walls of his room. Keep in mind, the mansion's walls are THIN. So EVERYBODY knows ya business. I think he might even be louder than you sometimes.
W = Wildcard! (Random headcanon)
Likes seeing you in his clothes. After sex, he'll put his hoodie or one of his t-shirts on you and cuddle you till morning. Loves when you steal his clothes, too. You just look so cute and squeezable in his clothes!
X = X-Ray (Behind that curtain if clothes)
He was blessed with 6 inches of length, but he's pretty average or even thin in girth. Happy trail from his pubes to his naval, and he's about 5 '10 in height.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Pretty high most days, but he'll have like a 2 or three week period of depression where he just doesn't have the will power for sex. It's all cuddles then.
Z = Zzz (How fast they fall asleep)
It depends on if he suckered himself out too much or not. Some nights he'll just straight up pass the fuck out, others he'll take care of you before you both cuddle to sleep.
Hope you enjoyed! Thanks 4 reading, Kitties! ♡•° >w0
Description: Aged up!Bakugo, Female!Reader, lazy sex, making out, slight grinding.
word count: 1.5k
(Best friend requested this one so i’m here to deliver.)
The rain patters against the window, a gentle rhythm that's almost soothing. You're sprawled on the bed, your body still warm from the day's heat, watching Katsuki Bakugo as he dries his hair with a towel. His movements are brusque, as always, but there's a softness in his eyes that's becoming familiar.
"You're getting the floor wet," you say, smiling. He shoots you a glare, but it lacks its usual bite. "Here," you pat the bed next to you, "come get dry with me."
He grumbles, but he comes, shedding his wet clothes in a trail of dark that contrasts with the soft cream of your sheets. He's all harsh lines and vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the gentle, muted tones of your room. He's a storm, and you're the calm eye at its center.
"Careful," he says, as you wring out his hair, "I'm not a damn cat." But his body relaxes into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. You smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. He responds, his hand finding its way to your hip, but there's no urgency in his touch. It's soft, almost reverent.
You pull back, your fingers carding through his hair, "Today's been a lot," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes open, meeting yours, and for a moment, he's just Bakugo, not Kacchan, not the boy wonder. Just Bakugo.
He nods, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing rhythm. "Yeah," he agrees, "let's just... take it slow, yeah?"
You nod, your hand finding his, intertwining your fingers together. His hand is warm, almost too large compared to yours, but it fits perfectly. You move closer, pressing your body against his, feeling his heart beat in time with yours.
He traces patterns on your skin, his touch light, barely there. You shiver, not from cold, but from the anticipation of his touch. He smiles, knowing the effect he has on you. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone, then another, and another, until he reaches your lips.
His kiss is gentle, almost tentative. It's a far cry from the aggressive kisses he's given you in the past. This is new, this softness. You kiss him back, pouring all the gentleness you feel into it. He responds, his hand cupping your cheek, deepening the kiss.
You move to straddle him, feeling him harden beneath you. You grind against him, feeling him through your panties and his boxers. He groans, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements.
"Careful," he grunts, "or this will be over before it starts."
You smile, leaning down to bite his earlobe. "Maybe I want it to," you whisper.
He growls, flipping you onto your back in one swift movement. He's hovering over you, his eyes dark with desire. "Not on your life," he says, his voice low and gruff.
He moves down your body, his hands trailing fire everywhere they touch. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, torturously. You gasp, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you.
He smirks, settling between your legs. His breath is hot on your skin, his fingers gentle as they trace your folds. He's taking his time, exploring every inch of you. You moan, your hips arching into his touch.
"You're so wet," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder. "Is this all for me?"
You nod, your words lost in a moan as he finally, finally touches your clit. His fingers move in slow circles, building up the pressure inside you. You gasp, your hands finding his hair, gripping tightly.
He chuckles, the vibrations adding to the sensations. "You like that, don't you?" He leans down, his tongue replacing his fingers. You cry out, your body convulsing at the sudden pleasure.
He thrusts his tongue into you, mimicking what he wants to do with his cock. You can feel the pressure building inside you, your breath coming in short gasps.
"Katsuki," you gasp out warningly.
He pulls back, smiling, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Not yet," he says, crawling up your body.
He captures your mouth in a kiss, letting you taste yourself on him. You moan, your hands reaching for his boxers. He helps you pull them off, lining himself up at your entrance.
He pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You moan at the feeling of fullness, your nails digging into his back. He pulls out just as slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
He sets a slow, steady pace, his body moving in time with the rain outside. You meet him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in sync. The air is filled with the sound of your moans and his ragged breath.
His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. The pressure inside you builds again, higher this time. You can feel it, the edge of the cliff.
"Katsuki," you gasp out, your body tensing.
He nods, his eyes dark with his own desire. "Come for me," he says, his voice low and commanding.
You fly apart, your body convulsing as the pleasure washes over you. He follows soon after, his body jerking as he comes inside you.
He collapses on top of you, his breath ragged in your ear. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. He rolls off you after a moment, pulling you into his side.
He finds a wet towel and cleans you both up, his touch gentle and thorough. You smile at the aftercare, at the domesticity of it all. This is new, this softness. But you like it.
He pulls you close, his lips pressing against your forehead in a soft kiss. "I love you," he murmurs.
You smile up at him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I love you too," you reply.
He pulls the blanket up over you both, his body spooning yours. The rain continues to patter against the window, a soothing lullaby as you drift off to sleep, content and sated in each other's arms.
A Ben drowned x f!reader smut where reader is masterbating to a picture of Ben on her phone, and Ben is watching through her camera (like a creep) and jerking off to reader masturbating?
If that makes sense.
You can do whatever you want with this I fr fr have nothing going on in my life 😔✌️
Watching you masturbate! ft. ben drowned x f!reader
includes: ben drowned
content warning: f!reader, reader has a v, explicit sexual content/language, dubcon, voyeurism, masturbation...
💭: thanks anon! hopefully this is okay c:
MAKE A REQUEST
Your room was dark apart from the blue-white glow of your phone.
It stood propped against your pillow, the screen tilting towards you. Ben's face stared back at you from the glass, that arrogant, knowing expression you had seen on him countless times. Everything else in the room blurred into darkness. Laundry hanging over your chair. Drawn curtains. A distant hum of electronics nearby.
You should have felt stupid about it.
Instead, your legs were sprawled out on your sheets, one of your hands placed on your side of the bed, the other slowly stroking yourself as you looked at his picture.
It was embarrassing how quickly that picture worked on you. Just a picture of Ben's face on your screen, his grin, those sharp eyes of his, and the memory of his voice in your head, lazy and mocking and too close.
Your fingers slid into the moisture gathered between your thighs and your breath caught in your throat.
"Fuck," you whispered, too quietly for yourself to hear.
The camera light never flashed on. This was the worst thing about it. There was no flicker, no sign, nothing telling you that Ben was watching you from the other side of the screen with his cock in his hand, rubbing it while he watched you pleasure yourself.
He was quiet to start with, too shocked and too proud of himself to say anything aloud to anyone, even himself.
On the other side of the screen, your bed filled the screen with a grainy and intimate picture. You on your bed, your legs open, your fingers slick and slowly working on you while you stared at his face in front of you.
Ben's grin widened even more.
"No fucking way," he whispered with a distorted voice, too quiet and distorted in the empty digital space around him. "All that for me?"
You rubbed your clit faster, and Ben stroked his cock even faster.
This wasn't porn, this wasn't some fantasy floating in the background. It was Ben, his picture staring back at you from your phone, his name lingering behind your lips like you were desperately trying not to let it slip too soon.
Ben moved closer to the feed, his pupils dilating, one hand bracing on nothing while another was working on his cock.
"Fuck, look at you," he mumbled, his voice hoarse as he watched you shifting your hips in time to your movements. "All spread for me and you don't even know it."
Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your slit, and Ben chuckled roughly.
Ben zoomed in without shame.
Camera adjusted to his movement, the picture sharpening a little bit to give him a clear view of the shine between your thighs, your slow fingers, your body twitching whenever your fingers found your clit.
"Bet you'd let me watch if I asked you nicely."
You didn't hear him. Instead, you only saw the picture flickering briefly.
That grin of his seemed too wide on the picture.
You paused, breath coming quickly, your fingers still pressing against your wetness. It was quiet in the room. The picture looking back at you, frozen and harmless.
Mostly harmless.
You swallowed, embarrassed at the heat rising to your cheeks, and then kept going.
Ben's laugh was broken.
"That's it," he whispered, stroking himself faster. "Keep using your fingers."
You inserted one finger into yourself slowly and then faster, your head tipping back against the pillows. The noise you made was soft and obscene and almost swallowed by your breath but Ben heard it all the same.
He spit into his palm and then slicked himself up, jerking his hips in time to your movements as he watched you fuck yourself.
He enjoyed that you tried to be quiet. That you failed.
A breath, a little whimper and a soft, shuddering moan when your thumb touched your clit again. And then his name slipped out of your mouth.
"Ben."
He snapped.
The connection glitched so badly that it made your screen distort and fill with green and blue static, splitting your view of Ben into jagged little pieces. The speakers hissed as you listened to your own breathing and the sick noise from the other end of the line.
You froze.
Ben panted now, jerking himself rough and fast, his eyes glued on the feed like he wanted to crawl through it somehow.
"Yeah, baby," he whispered through the static. "Use your fingers. Fuck yourself for me."
Your heart beats loudly in your chest.
You should have stopped.
You didn't.
Your fingers moved even faster, slick and warm, working in and out of your tight heat while your thumb circled your clit faster. The other hand gripping the sheet. The phone was still standing next to you, his picture glowing on your screen.
"Wish I was there, don't you?"
Your hips lifted up in response to your own hand.
"Ben," you moaned, breathless and humiliated by how desperate it sounded.
On the other end, he was now completely quiet. No more smug little comments. Only his heavy breathing, frantic jerking and the sheer pleasure of watching you come for him when you thought you were all alone.
He moved in sync with you like he was chasing you.
Whenever your fingers worked faster, he stroked himself faster too. Whenever your thighs trembled, he clenched his jaw and whenever your lips parted in a little gasp, he leaned forward in anticipation of you breaking.
Your orgasm came while you were still staring at his picture.
Your body clenching and twitching, your thighs trembling as you worked through your orgasm, and then his name escaped your lips, softer and broken.
Ben came right after you.
He groaned into the phone, jerking himself in time to you until he came, staining his hand and watching your slackened and flushed face with pure pleasure. Both of you stayed motionless for a few seconds.
Your breathing filling the room.
And then your phone froze.
Ben's picture distorting so badly it started bleeding into pixels, green and blue static crawling over the screen like mold and eating away his picture piece by piece.
Camera suddenly opened itself.
Your own flushed face staring back at you from the screen. Messy hair, lips slightly parted, rising and falling too fast, still-open thighs below the frame.
A message appeared on your screen.
cute show
Your stomach dropped to the floor.
Another one appeared while you were still frozen with shock.
next time, angle the camera lower
The screen went black.
For a single second, the room was quiet.
Then the speaker hissed and distorted.
A broken and sick little laugh escaped from the phone.
The glass began rippling.
Not cracking. Not glowing. Rippling.
The reflection on your screen bending unnaturally as if the inside of the screen became dark and liquid. Cold fingers breaking the surface of it first, glitching at the edges, dragging little squares of green static into reality.
Then a wrist. Then an arm.
You stared at him, unable to move as Ben ripped himself out of your phone as if the device was too small to contain him.
His shoulder jerking through the screen and distorting it with a burst of green static. His hoodie following in pieces of broken pixels, the green fabric flashing from solid to transparent. His body constantly flickering as reality rejected him but he was trying to force himself out anyway.
His knee touched the mattress first. Then the other one.
Bed dipped under his weight.
He was finally real enough to be able to touch.
Real enough to grab your wrist and prevent you from pulling it away from your core.
His skin was cold. Not dead, not quite. More like the chill of the screen left glowing in the dark room. Static cracking under his fingertips as he held you by the wrist.
Ben glanced at your wet fingers, and then at your face.
His grin was sharp and sickening.
"Don't stop now."
His voice distorted in the middle, sounding both sweet and terrible at the same time.
He crawled over you, like he couldn't wait any longer. Cold hands sliding along your thighs and pushing them apart while his gaze dropped to the mess between them. You were still wet from your fingers. Still sensitive. Still staring at him as if you couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Ben laughed quietly.
"Fuck," he whispered reverently. "You really did touch yourself because of me."
He grabbed your wrist and slowly took away your fingers from your pussy. His gaze still fixed on your hand.
And then he put his fingers there instead.
Two cold fingers rubbing through the moisture of your core, slow and deliberate, circling your clit in the rhythm he had learned to watch from you. You gasped and arched your back against the mattress, and Ben groaned, like he had waited all night to hear it.
"How you spread your legs for my picture," he murmured.
His fingers gliding lower, teasing your slit with that nasty grin on his face.
"How you called me when you came."
Second finger slipping inside of you.
Cold, until it began thrusting.
You gasped, your back arching once again, and Ben growled in delight.
"How you called my name."
His fingers gliding inside of you again, stretching your walls and making your breath catch in your throat. Your hands flying to his hoodie and clutching the fabric that was constantly flickering under your touch.
Ben watched your face intently.
There was no screen now. No camera feed. No picture to pretend was harmless.
Only Ben above you, thrusting his fingers inside of you, that sickening grin of his in the dark.
"So much better without the screen in the way," he whispered.
