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plxnets · 3 years

Note

One of the best fics I’ve read so far something about Bakugou just hits diff here

Pro-hero BAKUGO with his own agency obsessing over his new sweet perfect little assistant, just needing to have her all to himself, the JELAOUSY

yandere boss ! BAKUGO KATSUKI x assistent

Tip-jar

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, misogyny, obsession, dubcon/noncon, profanity, this got looong, Kirishima is such a jock, abuse of power, not that much jealousy per se, but Bakugo being protective and obsessive and horny af, uhm slight mommy kink kinda

WANTS & NEEDS

Bakugo stormed towards the elevator, not letting the sliding doors of the entrance to his agency slow him down, making a dedicated beeline towards his office on the sky-floor.

Anyone else would have thought he was grumpy as per usual, therefor keeping their distance, but like always, it didn't stop Kirishima.

"I don't want another wide-eyed snivelling slutty ditzy assistant, Shitty-hair." The explosion-hero grumbled in the elevator, still visibly pissed off that he wasn't allowed to simply explode his way to the top, reduced to wasting a whole two minutes standing still, forced to listen to the makeshift red-head's yapping whining on about what he can and can't do, what he must and mustn't, what he needs and needn't, what's best of him and what's best for him, with a thousand means to no end.

"Give her a try-" The red-head pushed in a drawl, only barely having lost any of the enthusiasm he started off with when they were on the first floor. "I heard she’s supposed to be great!" He beamed, teeth shiny like razors in his mouth. "And pretty."

Bakugo didn't even bother giving him a glance, rolling his eyes beneath his eyelids, the toothy smile of his friend and coworker too bright an annoying light to face in the morning.

"I don't understand why you bother..." He sighed.

The ash-blonde allowed himself to calm down, knowing it was about another minute left in the tight space, and how no one else could hear his crude words, nor the insecurity hidden in them.

"If it’s a lady she’s gonna be too sensitive anyway." He mumbled.

He always sent them crying. This one would be no different.

"One; you’re the one who’s too insensitive." Kirishima raised his finger, another one following, marking his additional argument. "And two; that’s wicked misogynistic, Bakugo."

"It’s been true so far." The ash-blonde grumped.

"Yeah, but please don't say that shit in front of anyone but me, yeah?" He urged. "At least not when we reach the top floor."

Katsuki turned to look at him for the first time that morning. "What's on the top floor?" He did not look amused.

Kirishima twirled his fingers innocently. "Well... I might have gone and taken the liberty of hiring you a new assistant-"

"Fucking dammit, Kiri, I told you! I don't want a new assistant!" The pro-hero groaned, whining like a child only with the growl of a man, trying to keep his breath calm while carding his fingers through his hair, yanking on it, feeling the need to rip it from his scalp to hold himself back from punching the apologetic smile off of Kirishima's face.

"Man, you need one!" The red-head defended, finally stopping at treating his friend like a piece of glass, seeing that his shell had already broken.

Katsuki only grunted in return, shaking his head, sighing. Giving Kirishima the cold-shoulder. Knowing that if he opened his mouth to say anything now, it would be far pretty. He instead opted for reducing his anger to mere growling and brooding for the remaining minute stuck beside the pest that was his bothersome friend.

"You'll love her." The sturdy-hero insisted, putting his fists to his hips while puffing up his chest, chin raised in a way that told Bakugo he couldn't be told otherwise.

The brute huffed as he folded his arms back over his chest, wordlessly disagreeing. Looking up with glaring alarm-red eyes to the lit numbers above the door while tapping his combat-boot-wearing foot loudly against the floor, frustrated with how Kirishima stood beside him optimistically drumming his fingers on his thigh to the beat of the brain-rotting elevator-music, yet slightly uplifted to see he was closer to being allowed to lock himself away in his office and stay there unbothered by the likes of pesky meddling friends and dumb fragile assistants.

She stood there, awkwardly awaiting her new boss where the red-head had left her to go receive him.

Kirishima was nice, a type of friendly she knew she shouldn't be expecting from the explosion-hero. Which is why her palms were sweating so embarrassingly much, making her wipe them down her skirt, also in an effort to straighten it, where the ding of the elevator only aided in making her heart skip along faster, looking down to see if her blouse was still perfectly situated.

She swallowed her anxiety as the two men neared her, trying to wipe her face free of timidity, knowing how such fragility would not survive here, in Pro-hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight's Agency.

She reached her hand out first, wanting to make a strong first impression, the intent almost leading to her leaping forward into the man. "Hie! I'm-" But her offered hand was disregarded before she could do as much as finish her introduction.

Without giving her so much as a glance, the tall muscular male didn't even slow down, but continued to walk straight past her, leaving her only one curt cruel comment.

"Listen, kid, I don't need another snivelling crybaby getting tears in my coffee. Don't bother unpacking." He grouched, cutting her off, trying to stomp off in direction of his office, yet stopped by the other male who had his mouth gaping in disbelief at his rude friend.

"He doesn't mean that." Kirishima rushed to assure. "He really needs you-" He tried defending, but apparently it wasn't needed.

She was ambitious to prove she could handle herself.

"I'll be sure to put a lid on the cup, sir." She made her voice sound cool and unbothered, face relaxing nonchalantly though still with a small soft smile to compliment her pretty face.

Bakugo gaze went from glaring at the red-head to offering the snippy thing a side-look.

Kirishima looked stunned for a moment too before giving a loud grin, eyes glinting. "See? She can handle you!" He nearly shouted, enthusiastically giving Bakugou a punch to his shoulder. "Come with me! I'll help you settle in."

The man placed a massive gravely hand to the small of her back, guiding her, taking her box from her without asking in order to carry it for her. She would tell him she could manage on her own, but she'd already come to terms with his slightly domineering acts of manliness and opted for simply smiling in gratitude instead of going full feminist on his out-dated acts of chivalry.

"You'll be primarily Bakugo's assistant and receptionist. But, to be completely honest with you, you'll probably have to be a bit of a babysitter and maid as well."

The ash-blonde gave a sigh as he stalked on, leaving Kirishima to take care of the new office pretty addition, not happy with how his friend was describing him, yet not bothered enough to stop him.

"He's very needy, lazy in a sense, he can't be bothered with fixing his calendar and getting his coffee, addressing the public and that sorta thing, so you'll take care of it for him." He informed as he walked her to the glass desk placed lonely outside Bakugo's transparent office.

"Of course-" She nodded her head, listening and agreeing. "I'm here to make his life easier."

"Exactly!" Kirishima said with a smile. "I knew you were perfect!"

Bakugo shook his head with little thrill.

Kirishima said that about every assistant he'd gone and hired on his behalf.

He looked at her before closing the door to his office, analysing what he saw with an uninterested face, taking in her straight posture, standing there like a doll with her knees together, hands on her lap, nodding her head pliantly to Kirishima's every word.

He allowed for his scarlet-eyes to judge.

Mundane pencil-skirt tight-fitted, yet appropriate, reaching just beneath her knees, showing off calves and nothing more as her boots hid her ankles. It was the first time he'd seen a woman in an office without stilettos or any other annoyingly loud power-heel on. Her blouse was modest too, no see-through fabric, no bright pop colour, no cleavage, just boring rose-beige reaching up beneath a set of pretty collarbones and an un-necklaced throat.

Pretty in a plain sort of way.

If she was wearing makeup, it couldn't have been much. But her lips had a certain shine to them. Not much colour sept for natural, but glossy in a way making them look pillowy and soft.

He made a note of how she wasn't dressed like a slut, how she looked nothing like those other assistants that came before her, who curled their hair to crispy meanders bouncing as they fake-laughed, with pink manicured nails curling around Kirishima's bulging biceps as he flirted with them.

Fucking disgusting.

He's pretty sure the red-head had banged about every bratty bitchy lazy assistant he's had, knowing how the toothy moron has it as some type of wager with himself, a goal to make each dumb pretty-girl even dumber on his dick.

This one looked sweet though.

Not at all like some brain-dead plastic bimbo hoping to be swept up by a sugar-daddy, or a power-hungry manipulative bitch looking for fame and publicity.

This one simply looked happy to be there.

No ulterior motives sept to do her job.

He nearly felt bad for her, knowing how his dumb-as-a-rock friend was going to abuse his popularity yet again and play her like a football match; first base, second base, third base, and home run, only to then kick her to the curb. Leave her as a crazy ex-girlfriend, bitter and sour with a thirst for vengeance, or a brokenhearted mess, whiny and snotty with mascara streaming down her face, ending up just a complete ghost in a shell, featherbrained and simply useless. Making him do the dirty work of firing a poor snivelling mess only because his stupid friend couldn't control his sadistic carnal urges.

Bakugo sighed.

With just one more glance, he clicked his tongue and huffed, closing his door with a mumble. "She'll be gone before the week's up."

First day went by without speaking to the boss, but she was adamant on making a change the day after.

Realising she couldn't expect him to meet her halfway, she recognised how he needed her to do most of the talking and approaching all on her own.

So, she ran her hands through her hair a couple more times like a comb, straightened her skirt and fixed her blouse, cradled her tablet in her arm for quick easy note-taking and pulled her bag onto the other shoulder.

Holding the boss' coffee in one hand, she took a deep breath and knocked on his door with the other.

He made a grunt, which could have just as easily meant go away instead of enter, but she decided on the latter.

"Good morning, sir."

She trotted inside the spacious office, allowing for just one brief moment to take in the breath-robbing panoramic-view of the entire skyline of Japan shown through his curtain-windows. Refraining from gulping at the vastness of it all as she placed his cup down on the clear glass of his desk.

"Coffee, snack, newspaper, agenda for the day." She listed, placing each item down neatly on his desk, having organised and printed out his schedule the day prior in order to come in prepared. Feeling slightly like she was baby-sitting, rethinking that the snack might have been a touch too much, giving he was a grown man and not a toddler. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling he'd either skimmed or hadn't gotten his full-amount of breakfast. Her sixth-sense telling her he was hungry.

He didn't look up, busy studying his gauntlet, struggling with cleaning out the insides of his gloves, but took a second to reach towards the newspaper, face scrunched in concentration and mild frustration.

She'd picked up the inkling feeling that he preferred the paper-version news above electronic, something that seemed to prove as true as he wordlessly started flipping the pages.

Understanding she wouldn't be getting much more of a reply, she continued explaining the agenda. "Pro-hero Deku filed to have your ten o'clock meeting moved down to twelve. He's awaiting our reply." Short, sweet and impersonal is what she'd decided the best tactic when speaking to her new boss, leaving all pleasant but unnecessary chit-chat in the dust.

"Tell him to fuck off." He mumbled, still not looking up, however apparently listening.

Without much hesitance she replied. "Sure thing, I'll proceed to tell the number-one-hero to fuck off." She repeated, scribbling down the note on her tablet. "I'm sure he'll understand the meeting will be held at ten like originally scheduled, and no later."

At least she doesn't cry over curse-words, Bakugo thought, pretending to read with an unfazed expression on his face. She brought him a snack? That's kind of weird, no other assistant had ever done that... but he was hungry. Strange she knows how he prefers things in a physical form, both the newspaper and the schedule printed out instead of e-mailed to him. Kirishima had probably shared the knowledge.

He reached for the coffee, making a note how it wasn't poured in some flimsy plastic or paper cup, but a glass mug, just the way he likes it.

Her and Kirishima must have been talking about him for a long time if she already knows all this about him, or maybe it was just all on her whim.

That seemed unlikely.

But still, even with Kirishima's guidance, it was impressive how everything had gone strangely perfect so far.

He put the cup to his lips, taking a sip. What the.... hell?

The coffee tasted different. Good, but different.

But... really good.

"The HPSC has filed for a call at two-" She continued, not noticing the puzzlement hidden beneath his gruff expression, too occupied with quietly studying his fairly barren office, noting how it was just his desk and a bookshelf and an absurd amount of empty space. "But I believe I can handle the meeting on my own where we're most likely to discuss your public face." She offered, getting a feeling he didn't enjoy discussing trivial maters on call with a room full of suits. "I could tell them to fuck off as well, but I suggest we offer something that'll ease their worries."

Bakugo scoffed. "Who the fuck knows what they want? Nothing's ever enough for those asshats." He nearly chugged the rest of the coffee after his statement, setting the cup down with a bang on the glass table-top, going back to tweaking at the gauntlet leaking oil all over his desk.

She noticed the mess. Dirty clean-wipes scattered everywhere as though he were sick, but clearly made dirty by grease, crumpled and tossed aside when no longer useful.

Cringing, she decided to walk about and pick up after him while speaking, feeling awkward simply standing there.

"I could tell them that you're willing to colab more with pro-hero Deku."

He made a sound, but she decided to push on, dumping a sum of a dozen clean-wipes into the trashcan beside his desk.

"Unlike you, the public adores him. And lucky for you, he seems to adore you." She explained, fishing a new container of clean-wipes form her bag, placing it on his desk. "I would think giving the media a piece of your upbringing as childhood friends to rivals to coworkers will be an easy way of giving your likability a boost."

He scoffed, reaching for the fresh wipes she'd placed down in front of him, pulling out a handful to rub away the sweat of his quirk smeared on the insides and clogging up the mechanism of his gauntlet.

"Deku'd get a real fucking hard-on if I ever agreed to some pussy-shit like that."

She didn't pay his swears any mind. "It's just a thought. Perhaps something you can bring up at your ten o'clock meeting if you change your mind on the matter." She professionally dismissed his unprofessional choice of words. "I'll think of other less crucial options that you might favor until then." She made some more notes on her pad before continuing. "Other than that, Red Riot wished to relay a message: he's taking the one to five patrol, and requested you take the morning. I have already made arrangements for another hero to take on the patrol between nine and one where you'll be caught in your meeting with pro-hero Deku. I can do further arrangements to clear up you're entire day if you wish to prepare-"

"Nah, I'll do it." He stood up, stretching with a yawn. "Anything else people need from me today?" He grabbed the snack, ripping loose the paper before stuffing his face.

She watched the crumbs fall to the floor and made a mental reminder to vacuum while he was out. "Not at this moment, but I'll be sure to let you know."

"Fine. Leave." Mouth full as he ordered, giving a half-hearted swat of his hand in the direction of the door, shooing her off as though she were a bug buzzing about him.

She didn't take offence, rather finding her first day going off to quite the good start seeing how he hadn't yelled at her yet. "I'll see you at nine, sir." She turned, walking off just the way she came, opening and closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Bakugo watched her go.

That wasn't terrible.

"Fuck's this?" Was the first thing the boss said as soon as he walked into his office, back from his patrol, pointing a straight finger to the steaming cup on his desk while she was busy organising the documents stuffed hap-hazardously into the bookshelf, fixing the scotch bottles and glasses that laid hidden behind trash and other documents, fan mail and gifts she'd taken the liberty of opening, most of them written and drawn by little kids.

Looking back over her shoulder, she answered. "Tea." Refraining from turning around completely to acknowledge him, otherwise busy dusting the shelves.

"I ain't ask for tea." He grumbled, ridding his arms of his already dirty gauntlets on the table she'd just rubbed clean. In spite of it, she didn't let herself fret.

"Your nerves are static, tea will smooth them over before Pro-hero Deku arrives." She explained, finishing up with the bookshelf, turning around, taking in the muddled look on his face. "You needn't drink it, I just thought I'd give you the option of..."

She wanted to find a better word for it, but figured the straightforward boss probably favoured straightforwardness.

"A sound mind." She picked her bag from the floor, and started heading out. "Drink, if you wish, I'll go see to it that the conference room is-"

"What's this for?" She stopped, looking back to see him lifting the suit she'd picked from the dresser beneath the bookshelf, dusted free of rubble and other dirt, ironed to perfection by herself just half an hour before he arrived.

"The suit?" She tilted her head to the side, looking puzzled. "Well... it's a business meeting."

She looked him up and down, smog coating his otherwise tan sand-coloured skin, some small cuts still bleeding red.

Her brows furrowed. "You weren't planning on going like this, were you?" Her finger pointed at him, bobbing at his hero get-up, trashed and tethered and in no way presentable.

"I ain't dressing up for Deku."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Think of it this way." She threw her hands up in a wordless request he hear her out. "One picture."

She looked him in the eye, needing to make sure he was listening, even though he'd hadn't proved himself to be one that doesn't pay attention.

"One lousy picture on Pro-hero Deku's snapchat feed or instagram or facebook of the two of you in suits would do wonders to your reputation."

It was Bakugo's turn to sigh now, groaning out in exasperation.

"Don't get me wrong-" She defended quickly, noticing him slipping on his focus, needing to real him beck in. "Greasy sweaty pictures of you and Pro-hero Red Riot grant you many fans. The media loves your bromance, but that would double if you prove yourself civilised and friendly to the number-one-hero." She argued, fishing for his agreement, feeling as though she was loosing him to his irritation. "He talks of you constantly, how you were the inspiration for his hero-name, how you made him the man he is today-"

"I ain't gonna freeload of Deku's cheesy poster-boy smile." He insisted, throwing the suit to the desk and plopping down like a sack in his chair.

She huffed, small fists balling at her sides, not ready to give up and not done stating her case, stomping up to him.

"That's not what you would be doing." She denied. "As it stands right now, the way the public view you is as a bully who cares only for one thing-" She chastised. "But sit down with Pro-hero Deku, he'll ask for a picture, like he always does, probably an autograph as well, and all you need is just grin that trademark smirk that have the girls go weak in the knees and suddenly all of Japan will know that there are plenty of sides to pro-hero Dynamight aside from being an explosive in the field."

She picked up the suit so it wouldn't wrinkle, hanging it on the minimalistic mute servant by the door.

"Furthermore, the HPSC will get off your back and won't get back on it, because that one picture with Deku will have such ripple-effects in your carrier that no one can chastise you for being too scary or unapproachable or-"

"Fine." He stopped her rambling, seeing her point. "Where exactly am I supposed to change?" He had an attitude about his tone stating he didn't really enjoy being forced to see reason, despite it being for his own good.

"First-" She picked up the remote she'd found stuffed in one of the drawers of the bookshelf, forgotten in the mess, clicking on the button she'd found out opened up for a built-in shower at the corner of the office. "Shower." She pointed like a strict mother, or a master ordering her dog around.

"You expect me to shower in front of the entire office?" He asked, tone rather childish in its aggressive sarcasm.

But she only giggled at his attitude, clicking another button on the remote he had no idea controlled anything more but the lights.

"I'll leave you to it."

The blinds rolled over all four of his window walls, the office carpeted and the lights of Tokyo city snuffed out, his glass-cage turned into a blackbox, dim moody lights brightening on their own.

She placed the remote on his desk and turned to leave.

"Call on me if you need help with your tie."

Why did she have to say that?

Almost as though she knows he couldn't tie one even if his life depended on it.

He hated wearing suits.

Too tight and constricting, too easy to rip.

And warm and sweaty.

The cotton and wool doesn't breathe enough.

And it's loud.

The polyester-lining swishing and rubbing when he walks.

It's the same type of embarrassing as when girls where heals that echo through the hallways with each pounding step.

He felt like a fucking show-pony.

An uncomfortable show-pony at that.

He thought of his assistant. How it had only been a day and she was already forcing him to act like some bloody dance-monkey, and succeeding no less.

Why the fuck was he taking advice from some brat in boots anyway?

Dressing up for a dipshit like Deku just because she told him to?

What the fuck has happened?

What the fuck did she put in that tea?

Calm his nerves?

What the fuck does that even mean?

He's always calm! He's never not calm!

He's the fucking definition of calm!

He stormed out, but stopped immidiatly at the giggling behind his door.

"So, any plans for the weekend?" Kirishima sat on her desk, bright smile plastered on his face, the one that makes people feel as though they can tell him anything, as though they can trust him with their deepest darkest secrets.

"Why yes, actually." She replied, small secretive smile curling her lips, making her dimples pop.

"Hmm, let me guess..." The red-head chuckled a playful light-hearted laugh, wiggling his brows at her. "A date?"

She gave am impressed look, mouth slightly parting before giving him a smile. "How'd you know?"

"My excellent people-reading-skills." He boasted with a grin, before leaning down to her level, voice significantly lower, the voice Bakugo had heard him use too many times on countless poor unsuspecting ladies, each one hanging off his words like moths to fire, so quickly to burn themselves. "You've been smiling to yourself all day."

She turned red. "Have I really?" She hurried out in a whisper, eyes timid like a baby-deer, bashfully looking down at her lap. "Is it that obvious?"

Dorks are so fucking cute.

Kirishima had to stop himself from licking his lips.

"You're blushing like a schoolgirl." The goofy smile on his face turned sharper and sharper, almost amounting to that hungry smirk Bakugo knew always lied in wait like a predator, waiting for the moment he felt he'd played enough with his prey. "Been a while, buttercup?" He saw the way Kirishima's eyes gleamed, thrilled and basking in making the little assistant blush, flustered and embarrassed by his questions and flirty devil-eyes.

"No..." She said sheepishly, obviously lying, but Kirishima just found that cuter.

"But this one's different?" He pried, adoring the way she pressed her knees together beneath the clear glass of the desk, toes pointed inward at each other meekly.

"I don't know..." Her smile was gone, eyes shy under Kirishima's domineering charisma, resisting the urge to bite her lip.

But someone had heard enough of their conversation to allow it to continue.

"Keep your fucking personal life to yourself." Bakugo barked, announcing himself, rescuing her from getting caught on Kirishima's teeth.

"Wow, Bakugo, dude-" The red-head feigned innocence, but Bakugo gave him a look.

"You got that?" He looked to the girl who wore an expression that seemed oddly happy to see him, relieved in some sense.

"Yes, sir." She nodded, feeling her heart slow to its normal pace.

"And quit taking up Kirishima's time, he's got better shit to do than flirt with you." He seemed angry, but she remained bright nonetheless.

"Of course, sir."

Red Riot rolled his eyes with a smirk on his face, throwing his head back with a laugh. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"I ain't fucking around, Shitty-hair." The boss bit out through grit teeth. "If you're gonna stay at my agency, you gotta make yourself useful." Bakugo's voice was gruff and final, words spoken in a tone no one would ever dare defy.

All except Kirishima, of course.

"Grouchy ouchy." He commented, pushing himself off her desk with an unbothered chuckle. Giving her a wink while flashing a grin, eyes seeming a deeper more bloody shade of red than before. "See yah."

She only gave a stiff smile in return, finding the male's disregard for her personal space less and less charming for every moment she was caught alone, forced to share intimate moments with him, watching his mask chip and flake away, revealing the man she got the unsettling feeling had less pearly-white ulterior motives lurking behind that perfected pearly-white smile on his face.

"You." Her boss's piercing voice cut her from her thoughts, making her take her eyes off the retreating muscular back of the topless hero.

Gaze snapping to the tall broad figure still standing in the threshold to his office, groomed free of his usual coat of battle-rubble and instead clad in a velvet-red silk-shirt, oblivion-black vest hugging him perfectly, tailored to perfection with vines of pale-roses adorning the sides.

His scarred calloused hand gripped onto the complimentary tie in visible frustration.

"Tie this."

She sprung to her feet, pondering whether or not she should thank him for chasing the rowdy red-head away, but decided not to while fingering the soft silk-tail to his tie.

She needed to tip back and forth on her heels and toes in order to get the height on him, still whole heads shorter, arms reaching almost as though she were to embrace him as she swung the tie around the back of his neck.

And, with having tied a couple hundred ties in her life, she made to look up instead of focusing on her handiwork.

"Your hair does that naturally?" She asked, viewing the way it had already poofed to all corners all without being gelled or blown with a hairdryer.

Looking explosive.

"Like a Pomeranian." She commented, getting the feeling he needed a distraction, where between being stuffed into a suit and awaiting the number-one-hero he seemed far too tense for her to simply ignore.

He made a grunt, but she swore his face softened just a bit. The knot set deep between his brows loosening, his gaze set forward, skimming the top of her head as she looped his tie once then twice.

"Don't ever say shit like that again."

A giggle bubbled from her throat as she smiled up at him. "Of course, sir." Tweaking his tie to sit perfectly beneath the collar of his burgundy shirt, brushing his shoulders down when she was done. "I meant a proud lion, obviously."

It was disarming having someone other than the likes of Kirishima and the devil himself be so calm around him, especially a person who wasn't even a hero, especially a woman.

A small cute woman who brought him snacks and tied his tie for him, who compared him to a cuddly fluffy couch-dog the size of a football and teased him when his pride was hurt by it.

He refrained from swallowing or coughing or stuttering on his words when she caught him staring at her for just a moment too long.

He looked off to the side, serious frown returning. "What time is it?" He grumbled.

"The current time is nine forty-eight." She answered while walking to retrieve his jacket that was left back in his office, stopping abruptly in her tracks.

The floor was absolutely flooded.

He certainly hadn't bothered trying to maintain the water to one part of the giant space, but rather spread it out to every which corner of the room.

He observed as she tiptoed about the puddles on the floor, manoeuvring to reach his desk in her cute flat-heeled boots, small delicate hands reaching for the last edition to his suit. Again looking to the floor to avoid slipping and falling on her butt, smiling once having made it back safely to the threshold of the door.

He was half-waiting for her to throw the jacket around his shoulders and help him into it, taking a moment longer than what he was proud of to receive it as she handed it to him.

He tread on the jacket by himself, but the nitpicky assistant followed shortly, coming to his aid with smoothing and straightening it over his shoulders and sleeves, pulling forth a pair of cufflinks she'd kept safe in the pocket to her bag, attaching them to decorate his wrists.

"You have about ten minutes before pro-hero Deku arrives."

He groaned, carding his warm hands through his still damp locks in hope to dry them faster.

With closed eyes he sighed, wanting to go punch something, but with the tiny assistant standing right there, so intimately close, and smelling so enticingly good while looking so adorable and pleased with her handiwork, he didn't want to disappoint her with ripping or ruining his suit with scorch marks.

So, he opted for a less nuclear option.

"What animal is he?"

Her eyes widened as she peered up at him, his question muttered but still clear, causing her smile to widen. "Animal?" She gave a false puzzled look. "He's no animal... Green hair? He's obviously a vegetable."

Giggling, she kept tampering with the suit, making it sit perfectly, touching him so softly he wished she wouldn't touch him at all with how much he was beginning to sweat under her gentle hands stroking delicate touches over his tense and abused muscles, being so fearlessly careless around him despite his reputation for being a temperamental asshole, where aside from that, additionally, she was also doing something so daring as mothering her own bloody boss.

"Something between a celery and a broccoli." She mused. "Though-" She giggled, and his heart seemed to stutter in his ribcage at how endearing he found the fruitful sound. "There was this one time he'd been on vacation and came back looking like a carrot."

Bakugo cracked on smile.

"That fucking idiot." He laughed.

The boss was laughing.

And it wasn't at all in the same gut-wrenching manor the other pro-hero had chuckled when squeezing her thigh.

Sure, Pro-hero Dynamight was rough around the edges and a bit colourful with his language, but he was by no means the raging demon others had made him out to be.

She was left smiling like a goof, feeling as though she'd fully completely and utterly crushed it on her first real day as Mr. Bakugo's new assistant.

She walked on ahead, taking the express elevator straight to the bottom-floor in order to guide Deku to the destination of the meeting, having told Bakugo to go along with Kirishima to the conference-room.

"The fuck was that about?" Kirishima asked with his normal jockish attitude, dressed in a grey suit and a black shirt, wearing his signature apologetic toothy grin, having his hands up in defence as he followed Bakugo into the elevator.

Annoyed, he didn't bother giving the red-head a glance, standing strictly straight, eyes locked on the closing elevator doors, hands balled at his sides, a growl in his tone as he spoke. "Keep it in your pants for once, will yah?"

Kirishima cocked his head, looking at his friend slyly. "So... you finally like the assistant I picked out for you?" He had that playful tone of voice that Bakugo hated, the one that was always so adamant on embarrassing him.

"She's fine." He answered curtly, still with his focus on the clean view of Tokyo city through the glass walls of the elevator.

"Cute too." The red-head pushed, just like he always did, pushing his buttons, pushing his temper, pushing his sanity. "Don't you think?"

The ash-blonde could hear the type of salacious, almost sadistic, mockery kept on Kirishima's tongue, how it seemed to drip with venom, those sharp teeth waiting to spot a weakness, only to pounce and sink them in deep.

"I guess." Bakugo offered, knowing ignoring the red-head was just as much use as indulging him, thinking that keeping his words short and arbitrary would help put an end to his friend's bloodlust.

But alas, the curt answer was more than enough to have the stars in Kirishima's red eyes go supersonic.

Kirishima smirked. "Come on..."

The boss was stupid if he thought the sturdy-hero was going to let his obvious lack of dislike towards the pretty little helper go on unchecked.

"You're subtle but I see you." His grin glinted, eyes shining with an eager will to tease. "The way you look her up and down when she isn't looking."

Kirishima chuckled.

"I always knew you were a momma's boy."

Bakugo sighed with a rust, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to tune the mocking jeering of the stubborn rowdy male out of his mind, trying to grab onto the calm he felt after talking to the assistant. The laughter of making fun of Deku now tainted by his own friend pulling his leg.

"You love seeing her clean up after you. Pick out your clothes, give you snacks... bet you wanna button up that blouse, give her tits a suck."

"For fuck's sake, Kiri, would you shut up?" The ash-blonde snapped and turned, brows set deep on his face, eyes narrowed to mere red slits as he glared at the grinning asshole he was stuck with.

"I worry about you, man!" Kirishima said in defence, worn hand coming to pet the seething threatening angry blonde's face, with no concern for being bitten, pinching and pulling on the chub of his cheek with a smile. "It's not natural to be this good looking and not fuck."

Bakugo pushed him off with a hand grabbing his collar, a snarl on his lips like the face of a wolf. "Maybe I just ain't a hyperactive hormonic spaz like you." He seethed, letting him go with another shove.

"Yeah yeah, insult me all you want, you angry dandelion."

Kirishima pulled himself off the glass-wall, still bearing his smile.

"But you know I'm right."

He straighten his tie and pulled on his jacket to flatten the wrinkles made by Bakugo's split-second hands-on anger.

"She's perfect for you, man. Sweet and nice, smart and tough, cute as a fucking button, and so professional, so eager to please..." The red-head listed, trying to get another rise out of the explosion-hero. "I mean... could you imagine her down on her knees-"

"Stop." Bakugo's voice was definite, carrying the type of tone that made goosebumps spring to the surface, but as usual had no effect on the sturdy-hero.

"Oh, so you have already?" He teased, smiling knowingly.

"I'm this close to punching you, shitty-hair."

Bakugo showed two fingers that were touching, but his threats hadn't spooked Kirishima in a long time.

"I'm just calling 'em like I see 'em." The red-head said, knowing they were as thick as thieves despite all the empty-threats and crude name-calling, and how the elevator was their boys locker-room where they could share all wolfish dirty secrets. He just needed to give the blonde a little nudge and he'd soon fold. "You wanna tap that, zip her out of that skirt, bend her over your lap-"

"I swear, Kiri-" Bakugo growled, but with less acute anger this time, a difference Kirishima had learned meant he was lowering his walls, granting him enough of an opening to cut him off.

"If you're scared, we can do it together, Kachan~" He laughed, and the blonde sighed heavily, closing his eyes, exasperated to the point of defeat.

"I fucking hate this elevator." He mumbled.

"What?!" The red-head feigned offence, clutching his chest. "We have our most important conversations in here!"

"Fuck you." Dynamight drawled, body slumping, hunching forward as he rolled his eyes.

"No, fuck her." His friend urged in a whisper like the devil on his shoulder.

"She's useful." The ash-blonde argued, but the red-head merely clicked his tongue at the weak statement, offering a solution.

"Then fuck her and marry her."

"Just don't touch her." Bakugo was serious, more so than what he usually was, and Kirishima could tell by the way he looked him directly in his eye, pools of red bleeding into a set of equally red puddles.

The sturdy-hero laughed, slapping a hand on the other man's shoulder and giving it a firm reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, boss."

Kirishima smiled, a smile lacking the childish mockery from before, a friendly trustworthy smile, the smile Bakugo knew was reserved for only the very few that knew him through and through.

"She's all yours."

Next day, Bakugo walked into his office. His schedule, newspaper, coffee and snack already lined up on the desk which had his gauntlets looking just shy of brand-new if it weren't for the marring in the paint-job. His hero-costume too, which he'd left in a heap on the wet floor the day prior, was not only hung to avoid creasing but washed free of rumble and smoke from yesterday's patrol.

"Bloody hell... is she a suck-up or a work-a-holic?" He breathed, noting how the floors had been polished as well, strictly clean, and that the mess that had littered the bookshelf with fan-mail and other documents he hadn't bothered to sort out was now tidy, papers neatly placed in binders labeled with easily understood titles, organised after importance. "Probably afraid I'll fire her..."

Not before he'd taken in the total lack of chaos, coming to terms with how it was still his office, getting over the feeling that he wasn't welcome in the sheer tidiness of everything, shook from the questions he voiced out loud about the assistant, was the vixen herself standing outside his door, drumming a little tune on the glass separating them.

"Come in." He granted, watching as she popped open the handle and stepped inside, same practical boots from the day before, but accompanied by white-knitted leg-warmers this time as it was a colder day. The blouse was swapped out for a warmer sweater, large on her small frame, but the skirt remained the same, tight over the curve of her ass, formfitting running down her thighs, a slit in the overlapping fabric, giving for a peek at her one knee.

It was enough to make his throat tighten.

"Did you see?" His eyes traveled up to her face.

"What?" He nearly stuttered, nearly tripped on his tongue and the water pooling beneath it.

"The popularity poll!" She squealed, walking with hurried enthusiastic steps over to his desk. "You've already risen five places! And it hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet!"

She supported her tablet on her forearm, resting her elbow on her hip, similar to how one would hold a toddler.

He didn't know why he was making the comparison.

Or he did...

"I always thought GEMGD was a bully, turns out he's just a bit rough around the edges. That smirk has me weak. Explosion-boy looks even hotter in a suit! Dynamight makes my heart go boom!" She read aloud. "All the comments are for you! And they're endless."

Her finger scrolled through the display on the screen, eyes running over the fan-comments beneath Deku's post of the two of them. The green-haired freckle-faced hero smiling a big gritted grin, eyes scrunched closed from the force of it, whereas her ash-blonde boss bore a more crazed expression, open-mouthed smirk stretched across his face, way huskier than his goofy counterpart who'd also had the audacity to throw up a a peace sign behind him, looking like a pair of bunny-ears; Deku's trademark.

She decided not to comment on how cute they looked.

"They're begging pro-hero Deku to post more of his quote on quote best friend."

"You said one lousy picture?" He raised a brow, looking displeased.

She bit her lip, and he really wished she didn't as he felt the pull in his pants immediately, something twitching by the display of her looking down at her feet, something so unfairly sexy in the timidity of her grinding the tip of her toe into the floor.

"Well... what I meant was that... one lousy picture could spark something..." She explained sheepishly. "We'll still have to feed the fire a bit from time to time."

She bent down to gather the cardboard shipping package he'd ignored once stepping inside his office, dropping the large box down on the desk with a thud.

"But you're a big boy- you can survive a photoshoot every now and again, and a couple of ten minute interviews."

He should tell her to fuck off with the name-calling, but damn... he really didn't want to.

"Oh- that reminds me-" Hands flat on the top of the box, she drummed on the cardboard with her fingers. "Heroes Fashion Magazine request you model for them."

"Modeling?" He nearly shouted, face twisted in confused disgust, offended she'd even suggest such a thing. "Fuck no."

"Well-" She ignored his outburst. "I said we'll consider it and they already sent over a box." She patted the package put down on his desk with a smile. "I took the liberty of taking a look and I think you'll actually find what they've come up with in your image quite amazing."

Her attitude was a nice thing in the morning, he thought, despite talking about things he didn't give a shit about.

"They've done some designs based around your trademark skull, which I think will be a huge aid, given right now it's associated more with villainous things rather than heroic, when we want to give the image of a badass and not a bully."

There she goes with the fucking nicknames again, making his head hot.

"Also, Pro-hero Deku would like to post a picture of the two of you in your youth."

"He's already posted the class-photo." The boss mumbled.

"I believe this one is more in the time of your kindergarten days." She informed, searching through the files kept in her bag, pulling out a sheet of paper. "Here, I printed it out for you."

Laying the picture on the desk, she smiled with a tilt of her head, looking over the two boys' bright faces, her boss wearing a black T-shirt with a skull-print on it, similar to the one the paparazzi so often catches him wearing when dressing casually. She found it quite adorable and amusing how the design seemed to have grown up alongside him. Then there was the All-Might trading-cards the two of them clutched so protectively in each their small hands, their ambition of following the great hero in his footsteps clear in their large eyes.

"It's cute." She stated.

And though it was put simply, the comment nearly had him blush if he hadn't given his thigh a rough pinch to control himself, head pounding from yesterday's conversation with Kirishima in the elevator, unable to look at her or listen to her without twisting everything into a something dirty.

"I think it'll be good to show the public you were a bit of a geek."

And then there was the fucking teasing name-calling again.

He could prove to her how much of a geek he was. He went to the boy-scouts. He still remembers every knot in the book.

He would love to try them all out on her.

"Fine." He gruffly voiced his approval, quitting his own raving thoughts.

She made a couple movements on the screen to her tablet, noting his answer. "Very well, sir, I'll inform him." And at that she turned on her heel to leave.

"Oi, toots." He called. "Stay." Stopping in her tracks, she spun around and blinked, preparing herself for a correction or a scolding in the form of a loud slew of curse-words. "Something's been bothering me."

She felt her heart climb up her throat, as though she'd swallowed some living creature who fought to claw its way to freedom through her mouth.

"My coffee’s different every time." He stated, voice strangely serious to be discussing coffee. "It’s... not bad. Just weird." He informed, and she was left with another deafening pause to wonder what she'd done that was an issue. "Is your quirk making coffee or something?"

She blinked. "Oh-" Her heart rested and she exhaled in relief, smiling while giving a short laugh. "My quirk." She repeated, resting her focus, forgetting her anticipation of being shunned and fired. "Well... uhm..."

Her brows knitted, pondering what way best to describe her rather mundane quirk to the man who literally sweats explosives.

"Boring and stereotypical, or ironic, as it may sound, it's called Assist." She informed, hands displayed in offering. "Basically... I guess... you could say that I naturally know what people need and how to assist them." She explained, but came to her own correction quickly. "It only counts for small things though..." She blurted out. "You know, like... what type coffee you'd prefer and... whether you wish for your schedule to be printed out or sent to you."

The man gave a huff, indicating he understood. "Obviously, you wouldn't be working here if you could cure cancer." He wore a new type of smile she hadn't seen yet, a type of smug grin she'd expect to see on haughty jocks back in middle-school, eyes jaded, relaxed as he looked at her. "Practically made for this job, aren't yah?"

She nearly pouted, but sucked it up and stiffened her upper lip. "It might sound mediocre, but it sure comes in handy." She defended herself, raising her chin proudly. "So while you’re off keeping the world safe, I’ll be here tending the fort, keeping you happy."

He gave another smile and a small amused chuckle, eyes gleaming in a way she found deeply unsettling, the same type of eerie focus she'd seen displayed on Kirishima, the type of look she wanted to run from.

"Hate to break it to you, buttercup, but it’ll take a lot more than a good cup of coffee to make me happy."

She swallowed thickly, trying to keep up appearances despite feeling her face drain. "Ah- of course, sir."

She didn't want her mind to stray to what indecencies she felt were suggested in his tone, knowing she was being ridiculous for even thinking that her esteemed boss was hinting at something of the sort, knowing it was all due to her own stupid female instinctive fears for twisting his words.

Needing to remind herself that this was a public servant who protects. An honourable man. A hero.

His focus left her and she felt like she could breathe properly again, his hands aiming for the newspaper, eyes skimming the headings.

"At least you’re not useless like the last one." He offered and she gladly accepted, too thankful to be let off his stare to pick up the derogatory substance of his sentence.

Face brightening a smidge. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She brushed the icky feeling of his former attitude off on the fact that boys gotta be boys sometimes, just the same as girls will be girls at moments too.

"Sir." Dismissing herself, she turned her back, red eyes looked up from pretending to read as she opened the door and slipped out, leaving her boss to his own thoughts.

Her quirk should be called Housewife.

Following his schedule, he left early, the little assistant wishing him luck from where she sat working at her desk, waving him goodbye with dancing fingers as the elevator doors slowly closed and sent him down to ground level.

Patrol was uneventful in its boring four hour-long walk. A couple of small-fry villains quaking in their boots, regretting picking Pro-hero Dynamight's district as he sent them flying, leaving them to be scraped from the sidewalk up by his sidekicks. Finding himself counting the minutes until he'd be back in the office.

Good thing it was a quiet day in the streets, what with him being so very distracted and all, conjuring up dirty pictures of his cute little assistant. Sitting at her desk with her knees glued together, squeezing her thighs close, so oblivious to his stares. Lost in her own world when planning his itinerary for him, making herself so useful for him, his pretty little helper, doing her best to keep her promise, to make him happy. Hand holding onto her pen, tip of it caught in her mouth, plump lips having no issue sucking on the small thing, making his head spin, thinking of how she'd handle something bigger.

He came back just shy of ten o'clock, happy to miss getting caught with Kirishima in the elevator again.

But, the study-hero had already sowed his seeds in the muck of the explosion-hero's head, and the roots had already twisted their way through his gut, flowers blooming, nectar oozing and dripping, spilling down the vines, sweetening his senses, pollen fogging up his mind, only allowing him to think of one pretty little busy worker-bee, and how he wanted her to lick up his honey-spill.

"The fuck are you wearing?"

This was the last fucking straw. She couldn't be fucking serious with her innocent act, she had to be doing this on purpose.

She looked up from her tablet, eyes round as she processed his lack of greeting, before looking down at her clothes, trying to spot what he was attacking. "Oh- I tripped with my coffee and spilled it all over my sweater, so I decided to- uhm- test out the product." She explained, pulling on the black fabric to the oversized hoodie she'd pulled on. His trademark large white skull plastered on the front.

His head pounded, growing hotter, boiling, palms sweaty at his sides, tongue feeling heavy and large with the sting of sweet saliva pooling beneath it. Something snapped in his pelvis, drumming, pumping, growing warm and heavy, thankfully kept hidden in the expanse of his large cargo-pants.

"You should model." He let slip, eyes kept on the hoodie thrown on her tiny shape.

The cut was definitely finer, skull tweaked to look uniquely and unmistakably Dynamight. The edges were rough, decidedly unfinished. She'd tied the strings to the hood into a little bow on her collar, but he hadn't the time to bask in the details, when he was too caught up in thinking how it looked as though she'd put on one of his hoodies, mind forcing forth the thought of him having fucked her good first, made her sweaty and dumb on his dick before finishing up with dressing her up, showing the entire world how she belonged to him.

He cleared his throat, brought back to reality by the blank face she gave him, puzzled by his prior comment, undecided whether it was an inappropriate compliment or not.

He wouldn't give her any more time to think about it too much. "Tell the magazine people they have a go on the merch."

She let his former comment slip, deciding to forget about it. "And the modelling?"

"Thirty minutes tops." He answered, walking towards his office.

"Very well, sir. I'll inform HFM right away." The cheeriness in her tone had him curl his brows and squeeze his eyes shut, fists clenched at his sides, stiff as he opened the door.

"I have reports, don't bother me." He informed coldly, not waiting for a reply before he shut his door, never giving her second glance, even as he handled the remote that had his blinds gliding over his windows, leaving him alone in the darkness of his office, no pretty assistant with adorable doe-eyes giving him anxious flickering looks as he unbuckled his belt and popped the button to his pants, zipping open his fly to free the painfully erect large tented bump in his boxers. "M'fuuhck..."

His mind reeled, letting his eyes glide close.

Where would he take her first?

Hmm...

His hand dipped beneath the band of his expensive black briefs, running over a bush of mousy blonde curls to wrap around the warm thickness fighting desperately against its confinement.

On the desk?

Lay her down on her back, hand on her throat, thighs spread by his hips, legs tangled over his back, keeping him close, moaning so prettily for him, perky tits bouncing on every thrust up into her tight cunt, nipples hard between his lips. She'd gasp as he bit down on the little nubs, cry out for him, eyes large and glossy looking up at him, waiting for her orders.

"Fucking hell..." He groaned, tugging slowly on his base, so sensitive he had to hiss when his thumb brushed over a particular pulsating purple vein, bulging tip blushed an angry red, a drop of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit, running down his shaft, getting caught on his fingers as he smeared the wetness up and down his length.

Or maybe he should bend her over it instead?

Pretty tits mushed against his desk, her small wrists caught in a cross behind her back, held tightly in his fist, cute face blushed red and dewy with sweat, pressed against the cool glass, lips parted and panting for breath, crying just a bit by how her hips would ache against the edge of the table, but blissful nonetheless with his cock filling her up snugly form behind, cute ass smiling at him, begging for him to give the soft plush flesh a squeeze or a little slap that would have her yelp, hiccup on her moans.

"Fuck..." He chewed his bottom-lip, fucking up into his hand slowly, savouring the feel of his fingers wrapped tightly, rubbing over every vein, squeezing on them just like her tight pussy would.

On his black Italian-leather-chair?

Have her kneel on the seat, back curved like a pretty little kitty, ass arched up into him, rubbing against his crotch, teasing him desperately for his cock. He'd have his hand yanking her hair back, strong fingers tangled in her soft locks, making her stare up at him, her hands gripping onto the plush chair for support, nails marring the leather as he rocks into her, make her drool at the curve of his cock brushing up into her cervix, his other hand slithered around her stomach, coarse finger painting cruelly delicious patterns into her throbbing little clit.

"Nah..."

He'd fuck her against the window.

All of Tokyo at his feet, laid bare before him, just like his tiny tight assistant wrapped around his cock, clinging to him so needfully, small soft hands holding onto him, thrown around his shoulders and down his back, warm doughy thighs hugging around his torso, squealing for him each time he snaps his hips forward, buried deep in her grateful little wet cunt, pretty words on her lips.

Am I doing good, sir? Please, sir, I want to make you happy... I want to give you what you need~ I want to help you, sir. I want to be useful to you, sir. Please, let me be useful~ Thank you, sir~

I love you, sir.

"Holy fuck-"

He bit his tongue.

Good thing she'd been a doll and placed a new packet of clean-wipes on his desk... what with the white mess decorating it.

The boss remained in his office well beyond working hours. She contemplated whether or not she should knock on the door and tell him she was clocking out, but decided it was unnecessary in the end as he'd given her strict instructions not to bother him.

Coming back early next morning, walking into the spacious floor only to find her desk, not exactly cleaned out, but gone entirely.

The blinds where still drawn before Mr. Bakugo's office, where she, anxious as it made her, walked to the door and knocked.

He was prepared to bark at anyone to leave him the fuck alone, but recognising the tune drummed on his door, he would make an exception. "Come in."

"Morning, boss..." She stated timidly, as though something was amiss and he felt his gut wrench in fear that she might have heard him moaning her name all day long the day prior when he was supposedly doing paperwork reports. "I hate to ask... but have you seen my desk-" She asked, before turning her head to look over what was taking up the former empty corner-space in her boss' office.

"It's been moved." He informed while she took in the relocation of her usually lonely desk, still positioned four meters away from mr. Bakugo's desk, yet no longer separated by neither glass wall or blinds. "Is that a problem?" He dared.

"No..." She replied, still confused as to what purpose the change would benefit, but mostly if he at all would like it this way, be it beneficial or not. "But are you sure I won't be a bother?"

She's been a bother from the start.

"I ain't here too often." He explained.

"Well then..."

She fiddled with her fingers, braiding hem together as she briefly thought it over, thinking she actually wouldn't mind a space of her own where she could escape the lingering stares of one certain conversational red-haired hero.

"This is perfect!" She cheered then, not in need of more convincing. "Saves me the time of knocking."

She smiled, placing her bag on her chair, already liking her little nook in the office, gratefully admiring how whomever had moved her desk had made sure everything was still in their designated place, eyes skimming the digital clock stating the time, brows furrowing.

"You're here very early?"

Her question gave him just enough of a warning before she turned around to look at him, allowing him the time to take his eyes off her ass and wipe his expression free of the sour look he'd adopted when spotting how she wasn't wearing the skirt he'd come to love.

"I didn't leave." He confessed, flipping the page of the hero-magazine he was pretending to be absorbed in.

"Have you not slept?" She sounded worried, and his gut warmed at her sweet motherly tone, hand twitching, wanting to pet his cock despite having wrung it for every drop his balls were worth all night.

He sighed heavily, a type of growl that sounded fed-up. "I have."

"Not well, I gather?" She pushed, as though scolding him, placing his coffee, newspaper and schedule down on his desk.

"It's fine." He reached for the coffee, stomach fluttering for the taste of what new flavour she'd concocted for him today, though letting none of his excitement show on his face.

She hummed in thought. "Well, you don't have patrol until two o'clock, which isn't for another eight hours." Tapping her pointer-finger on the schedule placed before him, she continued. "And as you have the time, where there are no ongoing big cases that require your attention at the moment, I could make arrangements for you to sleep on the couch in the conference room, or you could go home and have a nap before returning-"

"I ain't a child, toots." He glared at her, face in a frown.

She took it lightly, which only served to frustrate him even more, with how she seemed to brush away his anger like a mother does her temper-tantrum-throwing child. "Of course not, sir."

"Then quit suggestion shit like naps." He ordered.

"Very well, sir." She nodded, still with that small soft smile that seemed unshakable. "Have you eaten?"

Why ask if she already knows the answer!?

He gripped the arm-rest, knuckles turning white in his frustration. "No..." Voice in a muddled grumble, childishly admitting defeat.

"Well then..." Her tone so charmingly patronising, eyes soft as she looked at him. "Does the grown man want a snack?"

Who the fuck does she think she is!? Poking fun at her own boss like it's nothing?! Not just her boss, but one of Japan's greatest and toughest heroes! Ridiculing him in his own fucking office!

He ought to teach her a little lesson...

But fuck- just give him his fucking snack already!

He snatched the offered food from her palm with another grunt, slumping back in his chair. "Wipe that fucking smile off your face."

Her lips pulled further up into a smile, making her eyes shine. "I'll try my best, sir."

It was late, roughly seven o'clock, and everyone had long gone home for the day. But, with the rising her boss had done in the popularity ranks, he'd received a ton of new fan-mail, which she felt the need to go through before calling it a day.

Meaning, she was there alone.

However, not for much longer, for as she was slipping the last fan-letter into it's designated binder, was someone staggering into the office.

She nearly screamed, jumping from her seat, needing to squint for a moment or two to recognise who it was, not having noticed she'd been working in the dark for the last half hour. But, as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room did she not only identify her boss, but also the blood staining him.

"Oh my goodness!" She squealed, hurrying over, helping him to the chair. "Are you okay!?"

It wasn't fair to him that she was this perfect.

"It's nothing." He brushed off, groaning as he repositioned himself in a strive to get more comfortable with the ache in his body.

"Are you sure?" She sounded too sweet, too worried when looking at him, brows knitted all hopelessly, eyes large and shimmering, lips formed into a little pout.

If she kept looking at him like that he was sure to do something he might regret.

"What?" He snapped, shaking her from her blank-staring state.

She gave a little whimper. "Nothing." Shaking her head just a bit, yet remained just as distressed. "It’s just..." She bit her lip, eyes skimming over the many bleeding cuts decorating his upper-body, no mind to the blood staining her own clothes from helping him sit down. "It's just- uhm- your needs are all over the place."

He chuckled, unable to hold it back, finding her absolutely adorable.

"Then get to them."

It feels good having a pretty little thing fuss over nothing more than a couple of scratches.

"Isn't that your job?"

She drew in a breath, trying to toughen up with a nod. "Of course, sir." Walking to the bookshelf, she started pulling out drawers, mumbling some to herself. "Assistant, receptionist, maid, baby-sitter- Mr. Kirishima should have put nurse on the list of qualifications as well..."

Coming back, she slid a rocks-glass onto the desk, lifting the diamond lid from the crystal whisky-bottle before pouring him a drink. Proceeding to pull out cotton-pads and disinfectant, resting her butt against the desk as she reached out small pretty hands, softly caressing his chin to steady him when with the other hand dabbing softly at the cut on his brow.

"Does it hurt?" She asked, eyes focussed on her task. "I'm sorry, stupid question, obviously it hurts." Dismissing herself with a shake of her head, she shut up in favour of focussing.

He didn't care much that it was a stupid question to ask.

Not when she was this sweet with him.

She continued working, placed between him on the chair and the desk she leaned on. Her knees between his knees, right in front of him. Tight black jeans, form-fitting around her thighs, over the curve of her hips, tightened in a stop at her waist with a black belt, where his large hands would sit so perfectly, squeezing her, pulling her close.

He didn't know what he was doing before it was done.

Hands placed exactly where he'd imagined them, hoisting her up to sit on the cool glass surface of his desk

"Sir? wha-"

He grabbed her chin before she could finish, fingers pressing into the adorable chubs of her cheeks, squishing her lips into a soft pillowy welcome, greeting his lips with ease as he pushed forward, sinking in, mushing his face against hers, kissing softly, slowly and yearningly, without teeth and without aggression, but deeply, with passion, with an urge to stop breathing, incessantly, with a mellow yet disturbingly hungry bottomless obsession, with a thirst to put a fire out.

Her brows furrowed. Hands dropping the blood-dirtied cotton pad when needing to meet with the warmth of his chest, steadying him in his needy pursuit.

She had been so adamant on making it.

So determined on succeeding at this job so many others had failed in.

She was so certain she could survive crude merciless curse-words flung at her face, completely aware she wouldn't be receiving any form of appreciation back for her hard work.

She'd heard Kirishima would try his best to have his go and was prepared to block any of his advances, having made peace with the fact.

But... she wasn't at all expecting to have to deal with choking on her own boss forcing his tongue down her throat as well.

She couldn't pull away, wasn't allowed to, only able to keep her eyes wide as her boss sucked her face, finally detaching with a thick string of drool connecting their tongues, his heated gaze troubling her, suddenly feeling very small, stuck and caught before his tall massive muscled form.

"Ah- I- I think I should leave, sir." She tripped at the taste of his tongue, keeping her lips parted, hesitant on swallowing the mixture of his and her spit caught dripping, smeared and painted on the walls of her mouth.

His breath was warm on her face, panted on her glossy wet lips.

He didn't pull any further off, finding it quite amusing how small her tiny little hands were, placed on his chest as though it would do her any good.

Looking into her large anxious little eyes, he could only think of two things.

She'll definitely quit if he let's her leave...

... and he can't afford to lose her...

And with that in his mind his hands moved from the chubs of her cheeks to her throat.

"Ah- sir?" She gasped, but the breath caught in her throat, kept from her by the way his hands slowly and carefully squeezed her free of air.

Her hands clung to his arms, trying to push him off, tears given just enough time to slip from her moon-wide eyes, but he remained happy when she gave out quickly.

Like a flower in a forest fire.

She woke up softly. Looking like a scene in a movie.

A way too cute girl laid down in a bed of expensive black sheets she didn't belong in.

He'd brushed the locks of hair out of her face, half-way submerged in the dune of his pillow, small hand clutching the air in her sweet dreaming.

Soft snores left the rise and fall of her chest where he'd done the dirty deed of removing her blood-stained clothes, leaving her in a pretty pink lace-bra, cupping the light weight of her breasts in a rosey pattern just shy of being see-through, and her cute matching panties, a simple and chaste piece, but still so very tempting in it's innocence.

He'd needed to stop himself before going too far, his rough hands running over smooth plush flesh, becoming addicted to the softness before backing off with a groan, pulling his armchair up to the bed, reduced to simply watching her, studying every freckle adorning her flawless shape. Every curve, every dip, noting down some unexpected scars marring her skin, cocking his head at the marks, wondering what caused them, if she was a clumsy little thing who snagged herself on sharp things or if she somehow was a tiny little brawler at some time. He chuckled at the thought, thinking the former was more likely.

She made a moan, humming out a tiny pretty whimper as her brows furrowed, scrunching as she grasped for the light seeping in through her eyelids.

"Morning."

He rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he hunched forward with his lips kissing his knuckles, monitoring her with keen eyes.

"How're you feeling?"

He knew she was fine. He'd choked her out with expertise, knowing with out-most certainty he hadn't hurt her, only merely forced her into a safe temporary loss of consciousness.

Her eyes fluttered open, stirred by his gravely tone, met with blurry surroundings. Brows remaining curled as she blinked slowly on repeat, confused and adorable as she tried adjusting her eyes to the light, most definitely disoriented.

The poor thing.

"Scared shitless, I bet."

With eyes growing larger, and breath picking up speed she flushed and shivered on a coat of goosebumps upon the voice, finding her boss sitting in an armchair a rough meter away from the soft but foreign bed she was placed in.

"Mr. Bakugo?" She croaked, eyes growing more and more swivelled with panic, mind crumbling, spinning and splitting until it ached when peering down at herself, seeing she was in nothing but her flimsy undergarments. "I don't understand-" She spluttered. "What happened? What-"

Panicking, she tried covering herself up with the Egyptian-sheets, a type of soft comfort he bet she'd never had the luxury of feeling against her skin.

"Where am I?"

He pushed himself up from his chair and come to her side, trying to calm her down once she started hyperventilating at the sight of her bound hands.

"You're safe. M'sorry I tied you up-" His attempt at soothing her wasn't appreciated, only aiding in making her even more panicked.

"What's going on- sir? What did I do? What did... what did you do?" She tried scurrying away from him, pushing with the balls of her feet digging into the mattress. "You... tried to kill me."

"No." Grabbing her conjoined wrists he climbed after where she tried to worm herself away from him, pulling her back to rest on the pillow. "I just knocked you out." He defended, tone casual as though it was the most obvious thing, as though she was overreacting.

"Knock me out? Why- You-" Tears sprung to her eyes as she writhed beneath the large man, feeling smaller by the second, weak and helpless as he loomed above her.

"Quit being scared, I ain't gonna hurt you." He cooed, trying to control her struggles by gripping her waist, needing to tighten the grip where she thrashed around like a fish out of water, aiming to fend him off with hitting at him with her bound hands.

"Please let me go, please, I- I won't tell anyone, I promise, I promise, sir, I-" She pleaded, but Bakugo couldn't care for the hysteria cooped up in her ditzy little head, annoyed with her pathetic rambling, needing to make her understand the new situation.

"Shut up, toots." His fingers found the plush of her cheeks roughly and squished them to make her still, chuckling crudely at how large and hopeless her eyes shown up at him. "You think you can play perfect little housewife and not own up to it?"

His eyes had her frozen, glowing scarlet with crazed predatory heat, the carved knifelike smile on his face looking like that of a hyena in a hunting frenzy, eyeing cornered prey.

"Uhm- sir?" She whimpered, twisting at the stench of his breath wafting over her face with warmth.

"You stopped wearing that skirt I liked." He dismissed her. "Got tired of your quirk telling you how I needed to bend you over my desk?"

She gasped, eyes widened even more, going completely silent, dead-still under his touch if it weren't for the heavy sporadic rise and fall of her chest. "You're scaring me-" She whimpered and his smile grew, eyes going dull, lazy with awe at her adorable little pitiful face.

"And the lipgloss-" He ignored her outcry again. "You stopped wearing that too."

He scrunched her face tighter between his fingers, making her whimper beneath him.

"Too freaked out by how your boss needed you to come into his office and lock the door behind you? Huh?"

She hiccuped at the feel of her heart jumping to her throat and how his eyes seemed to want to drown her in red.

"How I needed you down on your knees in that tight pencil-skirt, plump pink lips wrapped warm wet tight around my cock."

"Mr. Bakugo-"

"What? You gonna make me some tea? Help me calm down?" He teased, drawing in closer, face less than an inch form hers where tears spilled rapidly from her poor glass-eyes. "Nah... what's your quirk telling you that I really need right now, huh?"

She trembled, shaking her head.

"I- I don't understand-"

"You don't understand?" He interrupted, voice pouty in mockery. "Just so innocent, huh?"

She thought she might faint when feeling his hand drumming thick sand-paper fingertips down the soft skin of her stomach.

"'Cause... to me it feels like I need to be eight inches deep in my tiny assistant's tight twat."

She started sobbing then, wanting to push him off or hold onto her underwear when he hooked his fingers into the flimsy band and starting running them down her thighs. Unable to do anything when kept levelled by the eyes staring her deep in her little terrified soul and the hand holding her cheeks, forcing her to face him. Where no amount of struggling would loosen the rope keeping her wrists together, only succeeding in chaffing the delicate soft skin found there.

"Sir, please- think about this- ah- please- don't- don't do this."

Her legs kicked, but small as she was all he needed to was push her knees aside, spread her wide, the cool air kissing her bare cunt, quivering beneath him.

"You're too obsessed with giving people what they need." He drawled, body sagging in awe at the pretty sight in front of him, her cute face torn with anxiety, caught in his hand, lips juicy wet with tears as she sucked in her breaths, in full focus on him and his hand coming to play with her scared little sex. "How about I give you what you need for once?"

"No- sir, please, stop." She tried twisting away, tried inching further up on the bed, scurrying away from his touch, but wasn't given the freedom. "You said you wouldn't hurt me-" She accused, voice wet and broken with hopeless betrayal, desperate to make him stop.

"And I ain't gonna hurt you-" He reassured, though acting as the farthest thing from assuring as he dipped his roughened fingertips into her soft tender folds, messaging the slit gently. "I'mma take care of you, proper care."

She felt like she was suffocating, throat tightening, tongue a heavy foreigner in her mouth, the room a taste of blood.

"Truth is, little assistant, you make me hate being alone." Tone so very gratingly overbearing, burning in her head, words like flames licking at her ears. "Only right you fix it."

She whined in protest. "Please, sir, stop." Insisting in small prayers, blubbering like a little bawling toddler, lips quivering, shaking on each sob.

He lifted his hand and put two of his fingers into his mouth, gathering a thick coat of saliva on them before motioning it back between her thighs. "I need you warming my bed more than I need you running errands anyway." He whispered, smearing the thickness of his digits between her folds, running over her clit before skewering his middle-finger inside her tight little hole.

She wrenched uncomfortably. "Please, sir-" Quaking on her shaking sobs with her breaths hitching in her throat, thighs jolting, squirming in small pitiful hopeless struggles.

"Shh, baby." He cooed, but she only cried harder. "I won't hurt you- promise." Repeating the vow, he placed a chaste kiss to the side of her mouth, tasting the salt of tears on his tongue. "It's just like you said..."

He continued laying a trail of wet slobbering kisses down her neck, nipping at her skin playfully with the teeth of his smirk, watching with idle eyes her chest heaving in shallow panicked breaths.

"You just keep up the good work..."

His finger pumped into her slowly, thick and boney, crooked by many years of breaking bones, both his own and others, reaching in deep, hooking into the tender spongey wall, so sensitive at the hand of his brazen confident touches.

"You keep me happy, while I go save the world."

Tip-jar

#fic q

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plxnets · 3 years

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hexadic

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader, Bokuto x Reader, Hinata x Reader, Meian x Reader, Sakusa x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ NSFW, time skip spoilers, multiple orgasms, squirting, fingering, overstim, cum-eating, DP, oral (m&f receiving), impact play (spanking and light slapping), spit kink, creampie, daddy kink, masturbation, gang bang, PWP, some d/s undertones, praise kink, slight degradation

A/N: I told @shadowkunoichi I was planning on writing an MSBY gang bang and she just started giving me ideas and I started writing and got carried away so uh. Yeah. Go touch some grass after reading this.

The title literally means “relating to a group of six” and I thought it was extra funny because…dic(k).

WC: 10.7K

There are a few things that tell Sakusa exactly how this evening is going to go.

For starters, the ‘hidden key’ is just a set of keys shoved under the welcome mat, the volleyball and fox-shaped keychains creating a conspicuous lump in the middle of the c and o.

Next, the keys turn out to be entirely unhelpful because the front door is unlocked, something that makes him sigh, long and loud, brow pinching together as he debates even stepping inside.

“Tadaima.” Carefully, he shucks his shoes and sets them neatly to the side of the pile of shoes flung every which way in the entryway; there’s a wayward sneaker flopped sadly upside down in the living room, another one from a completely different pair peeking out from the kitchen. He gives it a minute, shrugs his duffle bag higher on his shoulder, but there’s no returning okaeri to be heard. Instead, as he moves further down the hall of his teammate’s apartment, there’s the deep rumble of a collection of voices floating from the open (open—do these heathens not know how to close a goddamn door?) bedroom door, high, breathy sighs and squeals punctuating scattered laughter and strained swears.

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#so so so good #fic q

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plxnets · 3 years

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Pairing: Bro!Megumi x f!reader (ft. Toji)

WC: 2.9k

Tags/tw: mutual pining, jealousy, incest, slight somno (light touching), sloppy seconds, non-penetrative sex, overstim, praise kink, pinch of hurt/comfort, references to a manga only character

A/N: Here’s my piece for Nura’s Decadence collab 💞 I’m on a bit of Fushiguro brainrot 👅

There’s this old saying, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Megumi thought it was a stupid saying. As far as he was concerned, he would fall as far as he damn well pleased. He had dedicated so much effort, so much time in making sure he fell as far as he possibly could.

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#fic q

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plxnets · 3 years

Text

𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙸𝚃

you love your big brother too much to get sick of playing his games. that's a type of luxury you're not allowed. for the intoxicated collab from the whorehouse! i'm so happy i got to join this one, please go support the amazing writers there as well ♡

.wordc. 4.5k+ tw incest, noncon/dubcon, manipulation, mafia meian, underage drinking, drug use, organized crime msby, implied violence/murder, mention of blood, reader is sick at the end

You’re almost instantly scared into silence when you offer a gentle hello, and your words are stomped into the floor with a glare. Sakusa, you only know his name from hearing it in passing, simply stares at you until you move out of the way, walking past you as you hang your head a bit lower.

To his credit, Sakusa doesn’t bother you. And you don’t bother him, that seems to be the unspoken deal you’ve come to. You only trail behind him as he walks through the living room, waiting at the stairs for you. And you fist your hands into your skirt, but bite through the anxiety of it to walk him to the second door and motion your head. “They’re waitin’ for you, I think.”

The noiret manages to give you a small nod, and you look from his handsome face to your feet. That’s probably all you’re going to get out of him, but still your mouth cracks open. “Go niichan was in a pretty bad mood earlier.” You watch as he seems to consider this, before knocking his knuckles onto the door and watching with only mild surprise as it swings open to reveal another man.

Big, buff, grey-haired, and looking straight past you as he drags Sakusa inside with a wide smile and some excited chatter. You don’t mind him barely seeing you, it’s almost better that way. Before you can go though, a dark gaze finds you at the door and Shugo calls your name. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel the pairs of eyes on you now, multiple, and glance across the room for him. You’re used to being treated as invisible by his friends, and while it used to bother you while you were younger, now it just scares you when they don’t.

You hear the things they used to say about your big brother and his friends in highschool, and now even years later, it’s only gotten worse. The rumors are no longer just that, and you’re more than happy to just shrink away from the spotlight when it comes to having them around your place. But Shugo’s still your big brother, he loves you, you know he does. The fact that he cares only makes it harder to pretend like all of this isn’t happening.

You’ve seen the way he comes home with blood splashed on his shirt and a darkness in his eyes that doesn’t belong to any sane person. You’ve seen the way his friends talk about death with a smile, like they’re on top of the world. You always stayed away from it all, only acting like a hostess from time to time, letting the heaps of men in. Watching when they carry guns into your home, or the occasional bloodied person. Those days are especially hard to sleep. Those days are the ones where you crawl into Shugo’s bed and cling to him for a semblance of normality. At least he lets you.

Where the men normally ignore you, probably Shugo’s order, they always dare to sneak glances when their leader calls for you. They sneak glances now, sharp eyes following the skittish way you walk in as he motions you over. Shugo nii is sat at the very opposite end of the dimly lit space, the furthest away from your escape to your own room, one arm swung over the back of the couch and flanked by two other men that scare you too much to really acknowledge.

You stare at the ground as long as you can, until a figure meets you halfway. You look up. Shugo sends you a wide smile as his hand drops on your shoulder, leaning down to level his eyes with you. “Hey, little bunny. You came just in time, niisan needs a little favor. Ya can do that, yeah?” The whispers in the room seem to swell until he lifts a hand, and then everything is suddenly deathly quiet. It feels like every ear is trained on hearing you two now. Your swallow feels too loud, and Shugo takes your hand with his free one. His fingertips are rough under yours, squeezing your hand slightly.

But you bite your lip and nod, keeping his eyes as long as you can. You remember when it used to be just you and Shugo, when you’d curl up in his safe arms and he’d stroke your hair ever so gently. When he would wake himself up with his nightmares and have to come find you for comfort too. It’s not that long ago, but it seems lifetimes apart from the way he carries himself now. Maybe that’s what power does to a man. He’s not bothered by your mental struggle, if he even notices at all. The smile only widens. “We need yer opinion.” Again you nod.

The hand around your shoulder seems to squeeze tighter in anticipation for your answer, and he peeks out his tongue a bit before he speaks. “Who do you think is the most dangerous here?” His voice is almost a whisper, it sets your hairs on end. You hate this. But you oblige his request by turning and looking around the room, trying to avoid looking at any of them for too long. But even if you don’t, the way their gazes seem to travel the exposed stretch of your skin and the intrigue in their eyes don’t stay away. You’ll never understand why Shugo likes making you a target.

Bokuto and Atsumu are both grinning too much to be safe options to pick, you definitely don’t want to feed into their egos more. The wide-eyed expression on Hinata’s face is even scarier, and you’d rather not have any more of his attention on you than you have to. You end up at a figure slumped into one of the seats at the side of the room, unbothered with the whole thing. Dark, curly hair, and a safer choice if nothing else. You take a deep breath. But when you turn back to him he has straightened out, towering over you as he waits, his eyes narrowed just slightly. He’s still smiling, but a bit too wide.

Whatever you were going to say would be the wrong answer, clearly. You bite your bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth to soothe your nerves just a little. And you instead point up at him, breathing tight under his stern expression. The room is still so quiet. Shugo just hums and moves his hand to instead cup your cheek, his warm palm enveloping your now cold skin, making you meet his eyes. “And who’s the least dangerous here?” he coos, thumb stroking the soft curve of your face.

“I am,” you breathe out the words, barely having enough strength to voice them, and again Shugo hums in agreement. He lets go of you now, instead turning you to face everyone else, and loops his heavy, strong arms around your waist to pull you close to him.

“If any of you say somethin’ like that about my little sister again, I’ll kill ya myself.” His hands roam down your waist to grab at your hips instead, as if anchoring you in place when he hovers his lips over your ear, making your embarrassment flare even more. “And if yer gonna be whoring yourself out to anyone, it’ll be me. Yer mine,” he presses a little kiss to the skin behind your ear, “don’t forget it.”

You only learn a couple days later what he really means, when your boyfriend’s phone keeps going straight to voicemail. You’d tried your very best to keep him out of everything, you never even introduced him to Shugo or anything. But you should’ve known better than to assume your big brother wouldn’t know. When you come back home that night, he’s sat in the couch, one hand hanging over it with a knife that drips blood in thick, heavy drops onto your floor. For a moment you consider just ignoring him, trekking back to your room without a word.

But he’s looking at you through heavy lashes where you stand, before you drop your bag at the door. There’s a slash from his collarbone down and spilling red into his shirt, as he pushes himself up onto one elbow to watch you approach. You don’t say anything as you take the knife from his hand and put it aside, not wincing at the strong scent of iron that fills your nose. You only get in between his thighs to start unbuttoning his shirt, carefully peeling it from his sweat-covered skin and pulling a few threads out of the wound. “Yer mad at me, right?” his deep voice comes, as you finish unbuttoning the shirt. You look up at him.

Blood is splattered and dried on his cheek, his deep blue eyes meeting yours, almost black in the dimness of the room. Despite everything, there’s still something there you want to believe is gentleness. Care. You just hope you’re not imagining it. “If this is about that kid, I did that for yer own good, ya know?” he starts, wincing a little when you maneuver his arm out of the shirt too sharply at the topic, pulling it out of the way. You hate having to patch him up, but if you don’t, no one will. And then you won’t have anyone. You’re not sure you can handle that.

No, you know you can’t. “He would’ve hurt you.”

“He wouldn’t have done anything, Go nii,” you snap, standing to get a rag and some disinfectant, before kneeling back between his legs. “He was a nice person. He cared about me.” As you start wiping down the blood, you take a moment to stare at your brother, chest shining with sweat and his head thrown back. Large, black tattoos going from his waist and chest all the way to his neck. His hooded eyes still on you when you sit up to scrub his neck too, a hand coming to the small of your back. When you pause, he leans into you until his forehead is pressed to yours, and lingers there.

You can feel the puffs of air on your lips while you look at him, stare, really. You’re always known that Shugo was attached to you. Even when he cut all of his old friends out of his life and started causing trouble every other day, he was there for you. He was yours, as you were his. But that was then, and now it no longer feels so platonic. They way he leans into the motion and hovers his mouth right over yours, lips brushing yours ever so softly, it shouldn’t— you should pull away. His hand winds up to your neck to keep you in place, before he dips down to close the last bit of distance.

And though it’s a soft kiss, as gentle as you know his big body can handle it, you feel wrong. His mouth on yours and the way he clings to you like you’re a lover is so wrong, and you pull back with a sigh. He doesn’t let go of you until you shove at his arm, separating your lips and falling back on your butt. It stings, but you don’t care. You just stare at him like he’s suddenly grown two heads, and scramble back up. “God, what is wrong with you?! Yer such a piece of shit, niichan! You just killed-”

“We belong together!” he snaps back, eyes hardening when you throw the rag towards him and look around the space. You don’t know what you’re doing, really, because hiding in your room when he’s mad at you doesn’t help. He’s kicked down the door before without hesitation, and you know he’ll do it again. Your eyes fall to the bottle of alcohol he must’ve taken out before, grabbing the glass.

“Is this expensive?” You shove the glass forward and some of the amber spills out onto the floor, and you’re glad when his frown leaves his face to stare at you. “It is, right?”

“That’s not for you,” he tries, but you’re already bringing the glass to your lips and chugging down the contents. Something you regret almost instantly when the harsh taste and the burning hits your throat, making you cough. You put the glass down and take the bottle anyway though, still trying to swallow down the vile taste as you glare at him. “I told you.” He just looks a bit defeated now, and you just hope it isn’t by your rejection of him. But you’re mad, and this is about the only time you dare to stand up to him.

“Screw you, Go nii!” you bite out, shaking your head at him. Your voice cracks a little when tears start to well up, from either the burn or his expression you don’t know. “You can’t just meddle in my life any time I do something you don’t like.” You walk out of there, but resist the urge to slam the door as you climb the steps and already feel a slight warmth spread from your belly to your lungs, hiding out into your room.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, your hair is matted to your forehead. It’s too warm, and you’re a bit dizzy. But most of all, there’s a distinct pit in your stomach that seems to dig deeper with every breath. You throw your blankets off of you and get out of the bed, staring at the heavily decorated bottle of liquid to your side. The moonlight catches the deep amber color and makes it shine a little, and you grab it with a sigh. You can’t in good conscience do something to hurt him, not really. Despite his overbearing nature, he’s always protected you. Maybe your boyfriend really did deserve it.

It’s a small fight you’re too drowsy to think about. Instead you just tiptoe out of your room and down the hall to the bigger bedroom, and push open the door. Your eyes have to adjust to the darkness for a split second, but when they do, you notice niichan is sitting up in bed. Slumped but clearly showered, and his gash has been stitched up. His chest rises and falls a few times. “Can’t sleep?” he asks. You’re not surprised he’s awake, but you are a little surprised he’s so soft as he asks it. You thought he’d be more mad, at least.

You walk over, put the heavy bottle on the bedside table, and crawl onto the mattress. Shugo lifts the blankets for you to crawl in. You do. “I’m sorry for earlier, niichan. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad, or drank your stuff.”

He chuckles a little when you shuffle closer until you’re able to rest your head on the uninjured side of his chest. The beating of his heart is calm, comforting against you. “How was it?” he smiles as he asks it, and even wider when you tilt your face to look at him.

“Horrible.” That makes him nod, and pull you a little closer by your shoulders. As you listen to the silence of the house, bathing in his warmth, he leans over to take a little box in hand and pop it open, taking one of the rolled papers and putting it between his lips. He’s quick to light it too, bathing himself in the faintest orange glow. He takes a few pulls, before blowing the smoke away from you, and you snuggle closer. It only makes you feel more guilty for earlier, though you can’t really figure out why.

Maybe it’s that despite everything horrible you know he does, you never have to see too much of it. He’s careful to keep most of that stuff away from you, knows you couldn’t watch a guy getting shot or worse. When everyone abandoned you two, you only had each other. Of course he’d learn to be reliant on you, and reliance builds love. It’s the way things go. You turn your head so you can comfortably watch him as he fills his lungs with smoke and then lets it slip back between his lips so casually. He smiles when meeting your eyes. “You can’t have this one, bunny, don’t even try it.”

“If yer gonna be like that I don’t want it anyway,” you pout, barely a second before he dips his face to yours and nudges your chin a bit more up with his finger. His lips press back to yours, but this time you don’t pull away. And he blows a bit of smoke into your mouth when you open it, before pulling back. Most of it escapes from your mouth, as you stare at him in surprise. His mouth corners pull up a little, but it stays at that, and the dart is back to his lips before you can say anything.

“You can try something else though,” he suddenly says, between pulls. “Don’t want yer first experience with alcohol to be that shit. If yer gonna do it anywhere it’s better to do it with me, right?” He moves you off of him to slip out of the comforter and leave you missing his heat, searching between all the bottles displayed next to the mini bar to pick out one with pink liquid in it. “Here, this is sweeter. You can have it.” He takes two pulls, before twisting open the cap and handing it to you, then slipping back into bed with you.

You give it a cautious sniff, but it does indeed smell nice. Fruity. You take a mouthful under his watchful eyes, wincing a little. The heavy alcoholic taste is still present, and it doesn’t sit well on your tongue, but the sugary coating does help. It’s not nearly as bad as that other demonic drink. Watching you keep it in your cheeks only makes him laugh more, grabbing your face and keeping his so close. “Swallow it, go on.” There’s a darkness in his hooded eyes as he watches you struggle to swallow the entire mouthful, but eventually you manage.

And though the taste isn’t pleasant either, the fruity sweetness that stays in your mouth after almost convinces you it wasn’t that bad. “Better,” you end up saying, though you poke out your tongue to wet your lips, and he nods. You take another gulp, and another. When you start feeling a little wobbly, he takes it out of your hands, but you reach for his arm with a whine. Your belly and chest feel warm, and your feet endlessly cold, and you just want to nuzzle your face into his chest.

“Wanna finish the bottle, do ya?” he smiles, and you only give a sloppy nod. In truth, you don’t really know if you do. Your stomach feels full and the burn in the back of your throat still hasn’t gone away, but it makes you feel so comfortable. So easy. You feel warm and nice, and his hand on your thigh feels really, really good. “Just slow down a little,” he says, before handing you it back and letting you take another smaller gulp.

Your tongue is heavy by the time he takes the empty bottle from your clammy hands, room spinning and your heartbeat seemingly pounding on both sides of your head. You don’t know when he took off his shirt, but when you crawl further onto him for more warmth, or closeness maybe, your cheek is resting against bare skin. You throw your head back to look up at him, the blown out pupils so wide they swallow up any color left. “Niichan,” you pout, and for a few seconds he waits for anything to follow after, but you don’t even know what you want yourself.

A large hand slides up and down your thigh a few times, before the long fingers curl closer to the inside of your leg, and that feels even better. Your entire body seems to cling to that little bit of touch, shivering when his voice breaks through our bubble. “Feeling good?” A little hum and a nod is all you can give him. The hand is joined by another, softly starting to part your legs so they’re either side of his waist, still rubbing the skin so comfortably. It feels so nice, the slight roughness of the pads of his thumb dragging along the most sensitive part of your thighs, higher and higher.

Until you shift back for the touch a little, pushing yourself up onto your forearms, and your center comes to his waist. You take a deep breath, now suddenly too aware of how sticky your underwear has become. Shugo’s still looking at you, his hands on your hips. He must notice your problem, because he rolls his hips against yours and you throw your head back with a soundless moan. And then again, and your palm lands on his solid stomach, shaking a little. “Nii—san,” you whine, unable to help it, it just feels so fucking good.

You rub yourself against the bump in his underwear, shifting a little until it hits right at your clit, moaning his name and trying your very best to keep yourself upright, and he chuckles. “Yer totally gone, hm bunny?” Before you can answer, he flips you over so his giant body can cover yours and keep you under him on the bed, and you just blink up at him with your mouth still cracked, shifting when his hand drags up your leg and he slots two fingers against your covered slit. Your camisole is thin and sticks to you, as your big brother descends on you.

No longer careful, he’s quick to pull his underwear down and reveal his hardening cock with a few simple tugs. It’s big— really big, you think too slowly as he spreads your legs, rubbing the flushed head of it between your lips and collecting some of the wetness there. “So fuckin’ wet, yer a little slut.” But he still takes a second to kiss you, melding his tongue with yours and taste you, humming into it.

He tastes better than your tongue does, still coated in the overly artificial sweetness, rubbing his cock between your legs over and over. “My little sister, so pretty.” He grabs for your tits through the fabric, pinching the pointed nipples and rolling his hips all at once, letting you mewl into his mouth. You can feel yourself dripping down to your ass, moaning when his balls press up against you each time he rubs the base of his cock against your slit and clit. “Knew you’d be mine. Yer made for me.”

It’s almost impossible to hear anything over the pounding of your own heartbeat between your ears and the swelling feeling of nausea in your stomach, making you hesitant to even move, let alone open your mouth. And Shugo nii is too busy lining his fat, hard cock up with your slit to notice, already pushing into you little by little. “Niichan!” you think you say, clinging to his shoulders and tearing up and the immeasurable stretch it requires to take even the first few inches of his cock, but he doesn’t stop.

“So tight,” he grunts, lifting one of your legs towards your chest. You shake your head side to side again, pushing at his chest, but he only pushes deeper. And it feels so good, because despite the ache he’s hitting inside you so much farther than you ever could’ve imagined. Your stomach tightens more as he bottoms out, hips slapping against yours and leaving you feeling so overfull it makes you tear up. But when he pulls back and bottoms out again, every fiber of your body suddenly seems to tell you no all at once, and you try to turn on your side.

“Don’t you dare be sick,” he growls under his breath, pulling you back to him, “shouldn’t have drank that much then.” He pumps into you again, and again, until it’s almost impossible to feel your toes and your breathing is so tight it hurts under your ribs. Shugo above you, focused on the way your tiny slit is taking his fat cock so well, glistening all around it and leaving a ring of white at the base of it. He only picks up the pace on your poor body more at that, and grabs your throat tightly. Not too tight to hurt, but enough to have your eyes rolling back and your brain even more vacant than before.

It’s just his breathing and moans that fills the buzzing of the room, and your occasionally garbled squeak for him to give you a second. Loud paps each time he bottoms out, filling you up. “Yer niisan makes you feel this good, and no one else. Got it?” You can’t even nod as you’re bounced on his cock, one leg over his shoulder and the other shaking pathetically, head lulling back and forth. “When ya wake up yer gonna tell me thank you, right?” Another thrust so deep it makes you moan out, walls pulling him back in each time he leaves.

“Yer gonna tell me how much you love me— hmng, how good I take care of you. Ah- And you’re never, ever going to look for anyone else -hng- again.” He grunts when kissing you, dragging his lips along your cheek and neck, all wet with tears, before getting onto his forearms and fucking into you so hard it slams the headboard into the wall with each thrust. Your back curls from the bed and rubs your tits against him, while he angles his cock into the soft, spongy part of your walls more, until you cum without any warning.

It hits you so hard your legs cramp and the pleasure zaps all through your nerves, vision going black with spots. You can’t even hear anything, but when you come back to the world Shugo’s ramming his cock into you with a sloppier pace before he cums too, biting down on your neck and shooting hot, white ropes of cum deep inside you. You’re both sticky with sweat and breathing heavily when he pulls out and collapses beside you, one arm around you. You lay in silence for a few minutes.

You don’t know when he leaves, but when he comes back he has a cold towel to press to your face, and helps you up sit over the bed, placing a bucket in front of you. Almost instantly when you try to lift your head you grip the bucket tighter, and he gathers your hair to keep out of your face.

“Stupid girl. What idiot drinks a whole bottle by themselves? Yer lucky it was me here with ya, at least.” You hear yourself cry before you feel it, and he rubs the cold towel down your spine. “‘S okay, I’ll take care of you if you’re hung over.”

“They say getting a few loads of cum in ya helps it. We can try that.”

#fic q #I love this one

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plxnets · 3 years

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READ THIS READ THIS READ THIS

If You Give a Dog a Bone* — Eren Jaeger

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Puppy! Reader

Word Count: 19.4k (I'm so sorry omg)

Content: College! AU, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Smut/ Nsfw (DubCon due to Intoxication, BDSM, Pet Play, Collars, Choking, Face-Fucking, S&M, Spit Kink, Oral Sex, Oral Fixation, Breeding Kink), Intoxication (Alcohol)

Summary: There's been a blooming tension between Reader and Eren for the longest time, and when she shows up to a halloween party in a cute little puppy costume, the tension finally snaps.

Notes: Beta'd by the sexy bitches in my groupchat

If Miss Sasha Braus knew one thing, it was how to stand out. She somehow managed to pull off the most insane things without making it annoying or obnoxious. Her clothes, her makeup, her personality… it was all a step above what everyone else was doing, and you absolutely adored it for her. She made it work.

No, she didn’t just make it work… she worked it.

So it was zero surprise to you when you learned that her favorite holiday, out of all that could be celebrated, was Halloween. Of course, it was Halloween! It was one of the only times of the year where being over the top was praised, celebrated, embraced. Sasha loved it.

Every single Halloween from the time she was nine years old to now she’s done something so extravagant to the point where some stranger has asked for a picture with her, of her, or of her costume. At least that’s what she told you when she was reassuring you that I’ve got the costume handled, don’t worry about it.

You weren’t too sure if that was the full truth, but knowing her, you couldn’t call it out as a lie either. For the two-and-a-half years that you’ve known her, the two full celebrations of her favorite holiday, she provided solid evidence that her reputation was true.

The first year you knew her, the same year you met her in your English literature course, she showed up to your freshman dorm in a costume that had you blinking a few times to take it all in. She was dressed to the nines in a black-and-white striped fitted suit, her formerly tanned skin was flushed white, and atop her head was a white and green-root wig that was straightened down to her waist.

“Guess who we are!” She bounced on her toes excitedly while Mikasa’s figure slipped into your vision as well. She wore a slim, black, long-sleeved dress, and atop her head rests a large black brimmed hat. Underneath the brim, her faux bangs are spiked together against her forehead.

“We’re Beetlejuice and Lydia,” Answered a girl that you eventually learned goes by the name Mikasa.

They went to another Halloween party that year, switching up their costumes to be Napoleon and Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite, and then another party but that time as Cher and Dionne from Clueless. That year, and the year afterward — which almost mirrored her actions of the previous — were what made you realize that Sasha loved duo costumes.

You never thought that you were going to find yourself victim to Sasha’s infamous duo costumes; Mikasa was always there, Historia was there, Connie even stepped in a few times, but much to your dismay, Mikasa had an exam tomorrow, Historia was going in her own duo with her new girlfriend, and Connie was planning on going as a group with the rest of the guys.

So this year, you were the other half to Sasha’s antics; the Lydia to her Beetlejuice, the Pedro to her Napoleon, the Dionne to her Cher, and now… the dalmatian to her Cruella De Vil.

On Sasha’s bed, laying before you, was a long-sleeve mini-dress that was adorned with black and white polka dots. The neckline seemed to plunge into a low U shape, and there’s a strange shape sitting underneath the dress that you hope and pray is not a tail. You glance at her with an ounce of worry in your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sasha shoves your shoulders playfully before reaching past you to grab ahold of your costume.

She looks over it as she lifts it up off of the bed, trying her best to hold it properly so both of you could get a decent idea of what it truly looks like.

The neck did plunge low, just as you assumed, and you knew that the tops of your breasts were going to be exposed by the lack of fabric. Then, you sigh and close your eyes after you catch a glimpse of the object that was hidden beneath the dress.

So it was a tail.

Sasha turned the little dress around, shifting her arms to give you a full view of the front, back, and sides. The tail seemed to be built into the dress, so it was safe for you to assume that this dress truly was a costume and not a questionable fashion choice. It was polka dots all over aside from a tiny little red bow in the center of the neckline that would rest right where your cleavage sat once you put it on.

“See? It’s so cute!” Sasha smiles, still looking over the fabric.

“Then why don’t you wear it? I could be Cruella,” You cross your arms over your chest as she begins to lower the dress down away from her face.

She rolls her eyes, “Because I got this and all the little accessories fitted to your liking,”

You can’t argue with her on that, but you weren’t even trying to argue on who wore what in the first place. You were planning on wearing the dalmatian costume no matter what, for a few reasons.

Firstly, Sasha was right; the mini-dress was cute when you looked at it through a costume sense rather than an actual dress sense. Second, was that you didn’t have a backup costume, you had committed to Sasha no matter her choice of attire. Third, was that you didn’t want to break Sasha’s heart by telling her no, even if she had shown up with the ugliest get-up on the planet.

“You’re a menace,” You snatch the dress from her hand with a soft laugh, looking it over once before tossing it back to the bed. “Now show me the accessories.”

Sasha claps twice with excitement before giddily making her way across the room to grab a few plastic bags that sat at the base of the closet door. Each one of the bags had different logos on the front, further enunciating the lengths she was going at to fulfill this Halloween fantasy. One of the bags appeared almost empty, while the other sagged low and made a series of clinking sounds as she walked as if metal was clacking together.

She peers into each bag before looking up at you with a sly grin.

“I should have never trusted you with this,” You mumble, shaking your head as she makes her way back over to the bed.

One by one, she pours the contents of the bag out onto the sheets, shaking each bag to make sure it was properly emptied. All you can make out before she’s covering the accessories with her body is a flash of black, white, and silver.

“Don’t look!” She giggles while her hands aimlessly search around beneath and behind her for her first object of choice.

You stifle a laugh at her excitement, faking peeks around her body to draw a reaction of “I told you no!” from her, followed by a fit of giggles. She begins to settle once her hands still, holding onto her first reveal but keeping it behind her back.

“Okay, this one came with the dress but it’s still an accessory,” She says before pulling it from behind her.

She looks up to you from her sitting position, holding it out in front of her like she was presenting it to you. It was a pair of spotted ears, black-and-white just like the little dress was, with triangular ears that were folded over themselves as they would on a real puppy, in the form of a headband.

She doesn’t give you the chance to respond before she’s pulling forth the next item. She’s a little less enthusiastic about this one than the puppy ears, but her smile is still split wide on her face. From behind her back, she pulls out a pile of black sheer fabric and holds it in her hands. She has to shift it around in her hands a little before she can properly show it to you.

It’s a pair of sheer stockings and a matching garter belt. Where the stockings end, where they would presumably reach your mid-thighs, the even sheer fabric turns into dark black lace that litters the brim. The garter belt is made out of the same semi-translucent, spidery lace as the brim of the stockings, but you only realize that the crotch section is equally as translucent as the rest when she holds them up to observe them.

“I know this probably isn’t optimal, but you can just wear another pair of panties under it or something,” She quickly moves on to the next object, refusing to give you time to protest.

You try your best to take it in, looking over the revealed objects as she sets them to her side.

“Okay, last one. This is my favorite,” She giggles, and from behind her comes that series of clinking metals. You look to her wearily.

She slowly, so slowly, pulls the last object — objects — from behind her. The metal jingles as she sets on half of it into her lap and takes the other in her hand. A thick, silver chain connects the two accessories, the one in her hand and the one sitting in her lap. But then you realize that the chain itself and the thing in her lap is actually one object. It’s a leash, and in her hand is its matching collar.

The loop of the leash and the neck of the collar is made out of thick black leather, solid and sturdy; and the chain and snap-hook are metal along with the collar’s buckle and D-ring. It looked… way too provocative to be a genuine appliance.

“Sasha… is that from a…” You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows with concern, jerking your chin towards the set in her hands.

Sasha lets out a laugh, “Yeah! I couldn’t find any cute ones at the pet store so I just went to the sex shop off of Rose Street!”

She says it like it’s nothing. You weren’t unfamiliar with the subject of sex shops. In fact, you’ve visited a good handful over the years for terms of your own pleasure and exploration, but you would have never expected Sasha to be so comfortable with the idea of one. She wasn’t judgemental, no, but she seemed so bubbly, so naive — it didn’t seem like something up her alley.

“Oh my God,” You give her a playful roll of your eyes before reaching forward and grabbing the collar and connected leash from her hands.

You watched the handle of the leash swing near your knees as you observe and hold the thick leather of the collar in your hands. It’s cold, almost heavy under your touch, and you give subtle raises of your arm to test the weight of it. It was about two inches thick in the width of it, and for a moment you’re concerned that it will cover too much of your neck for it to be considered comfortable.

With your free hand, you hold the chain in your fingertips, letting the cold metal run along your hand and snake back down it until you can grab ahold of the loop of the leash. It was the same fat leather as the collar, equally as wide, but the leather was double-looped for durability.

While you’re looking over the scene before you — the entirety of the costume, the dress, and all its accessories — Sasha pulls out her own costume and shows and explains it to you while you half-heartedly listen; much too distracted by the BDSM paraphernalia in front of you.

The entire costume was nothing short of intimidating. Even without the BDSM leash and collar, you would still have had a hard time growing the courage to wear the dress and stockings alone. It was absolutely sultry, despite the coverage it gave you. Yeah, the tops of your breasts and thighs were going to be visible, but it was pretty tame compared to what the masses wear on this holiday. It was teasing, alluring, and for a moment you were worried about even being able to pull it off.

Sasha would have no problem with hers. Each year she outdoes herself, her most recent costume always better than the last, and her Cruella De Vil costume seemed to be no different.

From the glances you stole away from the leash and collar, you could see that her costume was made up of a snug black dress that would come down to her mid-thighs, a giant white faux fur jacket that was cropped up to her ribs, and shiny red latex gloves that were elbow deep.

If someone didn’t know the reference, it would very much look like you were taking part in a BDSM scene. And although you were expecting the most from Sasha, you weren’t exactly expecting something so… kinky. It was even worse once the both of you slipped the clothing on. Even without the latex and leather, the costumes were extremely suggestive.

You were correct when you guessed that your dress was going to be short, it sat just over the apex of your thighs, and the lowest lace of the garter belt was just peeking out. You hadn’t attached the straps to the stockings, but you knew that it would grow that much more visible when gravity was pulling the garter down. The tiniest hint of your cleavage was exposed, not enough to make it slutty — although there was nothing wrong with that — but just enough to tease.

But the worst part was when Sasha told you that it would be best to not wear anything under or over the garter belt, even though it was semi-transparent.

“Spandex will be too bulky and panties will show through the dress,” She said, and you listened.

“You were all worried for nothing,” Sasha calls from her spot sitting on the floor in front of a little mirror sat on the carpet, she could see you in the reflection. She had her makeup splayed out on either side of her and was working on blending out her blush when she spoke.

You let out a deep exhale as you look at yourself in a long mirror, one that’s almost as tall as you. The dress fit nice, and so did the stockings, you have to admit to that.

“‘don’t even have on the actual dog stuff yet…” You remind her, pulling at the lower hem of the dress to try and cover the garter belt, but every time you tug low, more of your breasts get exposed.

She turns her head to look at you clearly, holding a fluffy makeup brush in her hand. Her hazel eyes scan over you from head to toe before she smiles, “It’ll look even better with it on, don’t worry”

You look over her through your mirror. She’s already done up her hair, fluffed it, and back-combed it until it decently replicated the woman from the movies. She had on the little black dress, but the jacket and gloves remained beside her on the floor. And even with an incomplete costume, she still looked great.

“And even if it doesn’t… I don’t think Eren would mind,” She murmurs, turning back to the mirror.

Your eyebrows raise and you whip around from your own mirror, “What?”

She snickers, “Nothing,”

But it wasn’t “nothing”, you heard her quite clearly although her words were just above a whisper. And the mentioning of his name already was having a response on you, so you knew you heard her correctly.

“No, say it again,” You take a step closer to her, “You little brat, I heard you,”

You can see her lips press into a hard line as she tries to hold back a smile that would reveal her guilt. She seems to hyperfocus on fluffing out her blush, blending it out far more than it truly needed to be.

“Then why are you telling me to say it again?!” She exclaims with a nervous laugh, turning towards you and lowering her brush.

“Because I want to know why you said it,” You say, taking another step towards her until you're looking down at her.

You already have a good idea though, because your face would be heating up if you didn’t; and you have to admit, the thought of him seeing you in this outfit crossed your mind more than once while you were slipping the dress over your head and tugging the sheer stockings up your legs.

Sasha’s comment only confirmed and actualized the thickening tension between you and Eren. You and he knew about it, but the revelation that the others were aware made you ten times warmer than before.

As self-conscious as this costume had you feeling, you were equally, or even more so, excited to be able to gauge Eren’s reaction when his eyes first land on you. You could already feel the weight of his gaze dragging over your skin, your curves, looking over you like he was a shark and you were his next meal. Hungry. But you couldn’t even fathom the thickness that’ll fill the air as well like a rubber band pulled tautly and threatening to snap.

That little rubber band wrapped around you two has been stretched to its limits on multiple occasions; it’s been abused, bullied, tortured to the point where the tan rubber has begun to crack under the strain.

There’s been a handful of moments where hard stares have threatened to turn into hands groping over your bodies, teeth clacking and biting at your mouths; where lips have gotten far too close together for comfort, hands have gravitated far too close towards far too intimate areas; where the poor rubber band has been pulled to its limit.

Everyone has refused to address this push and pull, at least until now. Sasha was the first to mention anything out loud, although you don’t doubt the idea that the others talk about it in secret. It was obvious, but the topic seemed sensitive, and if you and Eren were avoiding it, they thought they should as well.

You and Eren were okay with how things were. You were okay with the stolen glances, sexual tension, and suggestive teasing; because it worked like that. That level of relational intimacy was safe, it was a traveled path. To go farther, to go on the road less traveled, was nerve-wracking and unpredictable. And if Eren was okay with going with the well-known path of the fork in the road, you were too.

“Because you practically eye-fuck each other whenever you see each other… everyone notices too, you’re not subtle,” She fakes frustration, but a smile still teases her lips.

“We do not!” You turn away from her and back towards the mirror, trying to hide the grin that threatens to show knowing that it wasn’t just you who saw how he wanted you.

“Yeah, you do. Maybe tonight, the liquid courage will finally allow the two of you to get together.” She smirks and catches the reflection of your smile between the two mirrors.

You shake your head with fake disapproval.

Yeah, maybe… but you wouldn’t complain if it didn’t. You’d love to get a chance to be alone with Eren, to be in his bed, in his arms, to have him inside you… but, as you said before, the road less traveled is far too scary.

She finishes up shortly after applying dark smokey liner to her eyes along with a bright red tint to her lips, and when she does, she moves over to you without cleaning up the mess she left on the floor.

Her hands are gentle as they help you with the makeup of your own. You never expected such a rambunctious girl to have such a feather-light touch. The brushes tickle your face and send shivers down your spine, and her attentiveness has your heart swelling with admiration.

She’s equally as gentle when she’s knelt to her knees before you, nimble fingers attaching the clasps of the garter belt to the top lace of the stockings; and again when her knuckles are brushing against the fragile skin of your neck, moving your hair out of the way to give her room to buckle the collar properly.

You can see her in the mirror, standing behind you with her tongue between her teeth, focusing hard to get the collar to the proper tightness. Not enough to hurt you, but enough so it stays still on your neck.

The leather is just as thick, just as heavy, just as wide as you thought it was, but much more comfortable. It’s a little cold against your flesh, and the raw ends are a little rough, but you internally thank Sasha for not getting one that’s for an actual animal, for you don’t know how rough one of those would be.

She fastens the leather end into the buckle and gently places your hair back into place, using her fingertips to fix any stray hairs. Then, she leaves you by the mirror to look over yourself while she retrieves the puppy ears from her bed.

“I mean…” You begin, bringing your fingers up to feel over the curves of the collar, letting them softly brush over it. You search for the cool metal of the D-ring with your hands and watch your fingers meet while you watch in the mirror.

It looks nice… sexy even, and you finally see what she was talking about when she insisted that the costume will look better once the accessories are on.

“Pretty, right?” She murmurs, holding each end of the headband in her hands and coming up behind you slowly. She looks over the softening expression of your face before lifting her arms up towards your head.

She picks and pulls at the hairs atop your head to give her an adequate base for the headband. She’s careful to not disturb your already prettied-up hair as she wiggles the headband into place. The base of the ears meets flush to your head and you can feel the ends of the headband rub against the soft skin behind your ears.

Sasha looks into the mirror before the two of you, she tilts her head and smiles like a mother watching her daughter put on a wedding gown. Her eyes are full of admiration and excitement, and you can finally feel your anxiety involving the costume dissipate at her gaze.

“Okay, now for the leash,” She bends down a little to snatch the leash off of the bed, the metal clinks together as she runs it through her fingers and moves in front of you towards the ring on the collar.

You watch her bend her knees, carefully taking the clasp between her fingers and snapping it open. She guides it to the collar carefully and you can hear a click of confirmation when she finally closes it.

Sasha grabs ahold of where the leash is attached and holds onto the chain, she lets it slide through her hand as she backs away from you, all the way down until the leather loop meets her hand.

“Perfect,” She states, still holding onto the leash as she comes up beside you, “Here, hold this while I finish getting on my other stuff… I wanna take a picture,”

You take the handle from her while she rushes about the room to through on her puffy jacket, slip on her bright red gloves, and grab ahold of the little heels she has resting by the door. Now that both of you have the entirety of the costumes on, you feel much better about this whole deal.

Sasha stands behind you, looking at your reflections and nodding her head with approval. Then, she takes the leash from your hand.

“Alright puppy, sit,” She giggles, bringing a hand up to your shoulder and pushing you down. You listen to her, letting her hand guide you until your stocking-covered knees hit the carpeted floor.

“Now make yourself look like a little dog -- stick your tongue out and beg and all that,” She says while shifting her jacket around on her shoulders.

You do as you’re told, sitting back onto your calves and bringing your hands up towards your chest, you stick out your tongue as well to try and replicate the image of a puppy begging for a treat.

Sasha claps excitedly while she pulls out her phone, fumbling with it for a moment before holding it out to take a picture of your reflections.

“Look up at me,” She says, “And……… perfect!”

You slowly bring yourself back up, careful to not snag the stockings or cause the skirt of the dress to expose you. Once you’re up, you smooth out your thighs.

“Can I send this to Connie? He came up with the idea and I wanna show him how good the costumes are…”

You narrow your eyes a little at her question, “Hmm… fine, but just Connie,”

Sasha squeaks with joy and taps away at her phone, nails clicking against the glass.

To Connie Springer: *Attachment: 3 Images* ur a genius for this one

***

“Armin, you agreed to be Spengler in the chat yesterday… give it over,” Eren reaches for the beige jumpsuit that’s currently being held in Armin’s arms as he turns away from the other boy in an attempt to avoid it being taken.

“I did not! I agreed to being a Ghostbuster… not to being Spengler,” Armin continues his shielding with his back while Eren tries to sneak his way closer.

Jean gives the two boys a look of disgust as they half-nakedly slap at each other for the much-desired Venkman costume. Jean’s already finishing up putting on the costume of his own, his assigned Ghostbuster being Stantz, while Connie sits on a beanbag that the four of them bought for Christmas the first year they started living together.

It wasn’t the smartest idea -- to have the four of them huddled up into a little apartment downtown -- but it was smart financially. They ended up learning that all four of them usually aren’t in the house at the same time most of the time, so the situation worked itself out.

But for times like these, when all four of them are horsing around in their little living room, is when they regret choosing their living situation.

Connie’s already finished pulling up the jumpsuit, keeping the front of it only half-zipped until they decide to leave. He’s avoiding the ruckus, tapping away on his phone when Sasha’s message finally comes through.

Jean is making his way over to him as it does. He has the torso of the jumpsuit hanging on his waist, exposing the white tank top underneath while he tries to wiggle his arms into one of the sleeves.

“Connie I told you that we needed to get a bigger size, it’s not my fault I’m six foot — oh fuck, man,” Jean mutters the last part under his breath when he catches sight of the image that’s projected onto Connie’s phone screen.

On the face of the screen is a pretty little picture of you down on your knees, pink tongue hanging out of your mouth — the flash showing the glisten of your saliva, hands hovering before your exposed tits that were given a good shot down the front of your shirt thanks to the camera angle, the fat of your thighs creasing near your hips and accentuating the fat of your ass that’s hidden by the little dress…

But that’s not even the best part…

The best part is the cute set of speckled puppy ears that sit atop of your pretty head, and the collar that’s so obviously from a sex shop that’s wrapped around your neck… and the leash that’s attached to it.

Neither Connie nor Jean have taken notice of the quieting argument of Armin and Eren, for Armin’s settled with letting Eren have the Venkman costume and takes the Spengler one from the floor. And while Armin was working on gathering the jumpsuit in his arms, he wanders over towards the other boys to catch onto the commotion.

“Is something wro — oh… wow,” Armin has to blink a few times after he gets his own glimpse of the image before him, followed by a few hard swallows.

Connie turns his head up towards the boys quickly, pulling his eyes off the picture and noticing their gawking.

“Stop, stop, stop. No. Nuh-uh,” Connie quickly shuts off his phone, the screen turning black, and jumps off the beanbag to step away from Jean and Armin. He refuses to let them sexualize his best friend!!

But what Connie didn’t know, is that as much as they thought Sasha was beautiful… it wasn’t Sasha who they were salivating over. It wasn’t Sasha that was causing their cocks to twitch in their pants… it was you. You were the one that had their faces turning warm and had their jaws clenching.

You were attractive — Christ, you were gorgeous — but seeing you in this light had something dark and sinister turning in both of their stomachs. They knew that Eren had this silent little claim on you, but that had gone completely out the door just a moment ago.

“I don't think it's Sasha we’re talking about…” Jean mumbles, bringing his hand up to his brow and rubbing his forehead with a deep exhale.

“Yeah — I wasn’t - it isn't Sash…” Armin stutters, fumbling to try and pull on the jumpsuit before his nakedness and inappropriate thoughts cause a certain uncomfortable situation.

“What?” Eren asks from across the room, tugging the Venkman jumpsuit up his legs but watching as the boys begin to look over each other in a panic.

Eren only made out a few words here and there, but when he heard Armin’s stammering he knew he should have been paying closer attention to the conversation.

The three boys eye each other, trying to figure out what to say. They didn’t want to piss Eren off with what he saw from their reactions, but they knew that hiding it from him would make it even worse. But showing Eren, showing Eren that costume, could pull something from him that they aren't sure they want to see.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Jean holds his hands out in front of him, making his way between Eren and Connie and reaching to help Eren finish pulling up the jumpsuit over the white tank top.

“No, c’mon. I wanna see,” Eren tries to push past Jean, sidestepping away from the taller boy and reaching for Connie.

Armin intervenes before Eren can get a hold of Connie’s phone, catching Eren’s forearm in his hand, “It’s just _____, it's her costume,”

“‘Just _____’, Armin? ‘Just _____’?” Jean raises his eyebrows at Armin’s choice of words, completely disregarding the fact that they're trying to refrain from riling Eren up and opting towards speaking in your favor.

Eren doesn't grow worried, per se, but his brows quirk in not only confusion. He drops his hands back to his sides, eyeing each boy one at a time until one of them cracks.

Why won’t they tell him what's up with you?

“I didn’t mean it like, Jean —” Armin states.

“What about her?” Eren asks

“Not her, man…” Jean says, scratching his head, brows raised, trying his best to not poke the dragon.

“Well it's kinda her —” Connie begins, but Jean interrupts him with a slap to the shoulder.

“It’s her costume.” Jean finishes

Eren feels his stomach turn. Although he had no clue what your costume was, he knew that Connie made it a whole big deal out of making it a secret. Eren knew that Connie came up with it, and whenever someone would ask he would turn down their questions way too quickly for it to be dismissed.

And now, he's hearing his friend’s voices get tight at the sight of your Halloween costume, only confirming his thoughts that this was going to be good.

He was already excited about seeing you dressed in a slutty little get-up. All his fantasies about your costume involved you being in a little school-girl costume, maybe dressed up as an angel or a devil, perhaps a slutty nurse…

But this didn't seem like it was tossed in that stereotypical college girl costume basket… This seemed different. The boys were acting differently, and it kinda freaked Eren out.

His chest begins to grow tight with jealousy, not being too fond of the idea that you're having this great of an effect on them. He doesn't like that they got to see you and he didn't, that they got to see you exposed and prettied up and he didn't.

“What’s wrong with it?” Eren asks, searching for more, eyes flitting to and fro.

“Nothing is…. wrong with it…” Connie’s eyes widen as he looks to Jean and Armin for backup.

Eren looks to Armin, searching for an ounce of honesty. Armin quickly catches on and lets out a held breath.

“She…. she looks… really good.” He says softly, knowing that Eren was searching for truth, but also not wanting to provoke him too much.

But Eren only nods slowly, realizing that his infatuation towards you was far more obvious than he thought it was if the boys were trying to hide their attraction to you like Eren had some sort of claim on you or something.

Eren settles, taking a moment to slip his arms into the sleeves of the jumpsuit. He’s almost so calm that the other boys are worried he’s going to jump them for a moment… but he doesn't, and he only mutters a few words to them.

“Alright then, let's go see her.”

***

You knew that Eren was already there, Sasha told you herself that Connie and the guys just left, we should get going in a little. So you were preparing yourself for the absolute worth (best) when you’re all together again.

The drive was a bit longer than you had expected, but Sasha also got herself “lost” in the maze of roads in the campus suburbs, so that contributed to the almost twenty-minute trip that should have been ten at the most. At least there were some cool Halloween decorations — which you think is the reason Sasha got lost in the first place — littering the front yards to help satisfy the time not spent drinking.

It was obvious that there were at least a couple of other holiday parties as well, the faint thrumming of a bass guitar and influx of cars parking on the shoulders of the road was a good giveaway. None of them seemed too big though, just a group of friends or two having a night in that involved a little bit of loud music and a little bit of hard alcohol. But what was big, was the party gathering around a larger and more expensive-looking fraternity, which you had only realized would be the party you were attending when Sasha began to slow in search of a spot to park her car.

You could feel the deep bass vibrating subtly through the concrete of the street, and you can hear the upbeat music of early generational throwbacks leaking through the cracked windows of the house. From what you could see so far, the party has already begun to run out of room on the inside, for every person that seems to slip into the house, one will come out in return.

“Ymir and Tori said they’re here already, we just gotta find ‘em,” Sasha’s already opening the driver’s side door before you can realize that she’s parked the car, “Told them to save us some of the good liquor before it’s gone,”

You nod as you step out of the car and onto the grass, your white sneakers getting slicked up by the cold dew of late autumn as you make your way to the sidewalk. Sasha’s just behind you, smoothing out the front of her dress. Once she’s satisfied with her appearance, you hold out the leather handle of the leash that’s still attached to you and she takes it from you with a grin.

It’s only the smallest walk down the sidewalk until you met with the walkway that leads up to the front porch of the fraternity, and Sasha’s little black heels click against the pavement with her every step.

The front yard is decorated with various Halloween-themed blow-ups, ranging from spiders to vampires to mummies. There’s even some synthetic cobweb spread across the bushes that border the porch that you know will be an absolute burden to clean up. Across the front door is fake, bright yellow caution tape, plastered in the shape of an ‘X’ and reading “crime scene, do not cross”.

You and Sasha slip inside the house at the same time another two girls exit it; like it was some sort of mechanical set-up that limited the house’s occupancy. It was already stuffy and humid inside, the lights were dimmed, and you couldn’t take a couple of steps before bumping into a sweaty body.

You received lingering gazes from bystanders as Sasha guided you to where you assume Tori and Ymir said they would be. Peoples eyes would flit to the jingling of the leash, then to the girl holding onto the end, then to you attached to it; and for a moment you were worried that they were silently judging you before you noticed their costumes were almost of equal extremity and the smiles they wore on their faces.

You’re feeling better, much better than you were just over an hour ago while getting ready. Yes, you were going to wear the costume, but now you’re ready to wear it.

“There they are!” Sasha glances back at you for a moment before tugging you along, the leash being pulled taut as she pulls you to the other two girls that are sitting together on a burnt-red, vintage couch.

Historia sat in Ymir’s lap, sitting on her right thigh while her legs hung over the left one, but in between Historia’s thighs are two solo cups being protectively guarded. Ymir held a careful hand on Historia’s thigh, holding down the hem of her burgundy skirt, while her other hand was wrapped around her waist, covering what her little black crop top won’t.

Right away you could guess their costume choice, going for the classic Angel and Devil, but their little spin on it was having the nicer of the two girls be the Devil and the meaner of the two as the Angel.

Both of their eyes light up and they straighten in their seats when they see you and Sasha weaving your way through the crowd of people towards them. Historia immediately grabs ahold of the cups she had squished safely between her thighs and holds them out to the two of you as you make your way over.

“You are not!” She smiles widely, brows rising with incredulity.

She must have been referring to your costumes, for Sasha takes the hem of her dress between her fingers and curtsies bashfully, bowing her head to the two girls sitting before her.

“We did,” Sasha straightens back up and takes the two cups from Historia’s hands, taking one for herself and handing the other to you.

“Cruella De Vil and her little dalmatian, how cute,” Ymir’s voice is patronizing and her lips are turned into a smirk, but you know she honestly appreciates your little get-ups.

“Angel and a Devil? I’ve seen it a thousand times,” You tease her back and her uptight expression breaks into a genuine smile.

“You guys look… really good, like really good,” Historia gushes, “Why didn’t we come up with that?” She says sheepishly to Ymir, pouting her lips and furrowing her brows.

Ymir gives her a gentle pat on the ass, chuckling at Historia’s sulking, “Because we wouldn’t be able to get out of the house with you dressed like that”

Historia’s face flushes red from Ymir’s suggestive comment, and she gives Ymir a gentle slap on her shoulder to punish her for the embarrassment she’s caused.

“We actually... didn’t come up with it. It was Connie’s idea,” Sasha says glumly like she was happy that the two girls were under the impression that she had been clever enough to think of the costumes.

Ymir and Historia give a shake of their heads with faux disappointment, their lips comedically pressed into lines as they do so. But amidst their teasing, Historia perks up a little in her seat, raising a finger as if she has something important to say.

“Oh! Speaking of Connie, I think the guys were looking for you earlier. Ber and Reiner are in the backyard doing God-knows-what, and I think I saw the others in the kitchen trying not to be felt up by the freshman,” Historia giggles.

There’s the slightest pang of jealousy deep in your gut at the thought of another girl’s hands on Eren because although he’s not yours and you’re not his, that doesn’t mean you’re comfortable with people running their hands over his body.

You refuse to ask for clarification if Eren was one of the guys who was having to avoid wandering hands, but you can’t bring yourself to do so for a multitude of reasons. But before you can even weigh your reasoning, Sasha’s tightening her grip on the leather handle and tugging you along like you were some kind of dog…

“C’mon! Connie’s gonna love the costumes!”

She pulls on you a little too hard at some moments, sending your upper half lurching forward and your legs stumbling after you so your head doesn’t get pulled off by the overly enthusiastic girl that you somehow agreed to let have you on a leash. You laugh, nonetheless, even as the thick leather digs into the nape of your neck, and as you step on your toes trying to keep up. But you’re thankful when you realize she’s slowed her hurrying and is now casually walking into the kitchen, the leash getting slack.

“Connie Springer, you’re a fucking genius!” Sasha says, and as you peer around her body you can see the man she’s calling to, turning around quickly from his conversation and smiling widely.

Sasha shoves his chest playfully, going on again on how smart Connie is for this idea and how happy she is with how it’s turned out. Their conversation drones to a low hum as you carefully flit your eyes across the room in search of the one person whose opinion on your attire truly matters to you.

Your eyes flit over to the people who Connie had seemed to be talking with before Sasha excitedly interrupted them. It was Jean and Armin and a few other guys that carried on their conversation after you and Sasha came over. The two boys that you were familiar with gave you a smile that told you that they’d be with you in a minute.

As your gaze circled the room, as your fingers rubbed at the plastic of the solo cup in your hands as a nervous tick, you finally land onto a group of people you had managed to pass while Sasha tugged you far too quickly towards Connie.

Near the kitchen entryway as a group of guys, including Eren, leaning up against a countertop, talking amongst each other while the girls standing before them try desperately to butt their heads into the conversation. Thankfully, Eren was unamused with their antics, and deliberately ignored them whenever they tried to stir up a conversation with him.

You refuse to stare for too long, not wanting to draw attention to yourself or the tension between you and the man you’re staring at; but you do watch long enough to run your eyes over Eren’s figure. You feel your body react to the way his sleeves are rolled up his forearms, how the front zipper of the beige jumpsuit he was wearing was only a quarter zipped up his chest and the way his pretty gold chain rests softly on his collarbones and dips down to sit atop the white undershirt he wears.

You don’t even bother to try and guess what his costume is, far too distracted by how good he looks in it to even care. You only realize that your distraction was noticeable when Sasha nudges your arm to bring you back.

“Here, try this. ‘s better than whatever Tori gave us,” Sasha holds out another cup to you, and you glance at its contents before taking it. It’s a pale pink shade, like pink lemonade that was diluted with water; but you know that whatever it is isn’t nearly as family-friendly.

“What is it?” You ask her, looking back up, missing the way your staring at Eren was traded for Eren’s staring at you.

You had caught his eye once you entered the kitchen, and he could feel your gaze over his body while he distracted himself with the people before him. Now that you’re distracted the way he once was, he’s going to take the liberty to stare at you the way you once were.

He’ll hate himself for the fact that he did.

Eren feels his pants tighten as he looks over your attire and the way it shows off every inch of you that he wants to get his hands on. His jaw clenches as his eyes run over you, from bottom to top, starting with the sheer black thigh-highs that were wrapped so nicely around the curves of your legs.

It was teasing, enticing, intoxicating with the way the sheer fabric turned into dark lace at the tops of your thighs. It was a warning, an insinuation of what laid just inches past the hem of the spotted dress you wore; what laid underneath the intimate portion of the garter belt his eyes caught on.

The dress was typical, a little short, but typical for a college girl to wear out to a party. He’s seen something just like it a thousand times over and simply brushed over it. But with you, he couldn’t tear his eyes off. Eren was almost salivating at the curves of your body that the dress accentuated, and your neckline that swooped into the tops of your pretty tits that the dress showed off.

He didn’t expect it to get better than that. The main event of the costume seemed to be over once his eyes slid up your waist.

But my God was Eren Jaeger so wrong.

A groan gets caught in his throat, and contemplation swarms in his head to take you then and there when he gets stuck on that cute little piece of leather that was wrapped around your neck. The leather that looked like a coll — the leather that was a collar, with a chain leash clasped onto it as well.

His stare has gone hot, and like you can feel his eyes burning against your skin, you sneak a sly glance over to the man resting his elbows on the counter behind him. There’s only a brief moment of eye contact before your name is being called by another one of the boys in the room, but that passing second had electricity coursing through your veins.

“Hello Miss _____,” Jean calls to you, pushing past Connie to get to you, embracing you in a hug. The zipper of his costume scratches at your exposed chest, and the chain of your leash jingles as it’s pressed between you two. “It’s good to see you,”

You smile against the crook of his neck, rising up on your toes to hug him properly before lowering yourself back down to formally say hi to the other boys.

“Look at my girls wearing my genius costume idea,” Connie smiles, arms outstretched in a gesture to you and Sasha standing before him, “C’mon, give me a spin,”

You do as you’re told, giggling while you turn around in a tiny circle to give Connie what he wants. Sasha helps maneuver the leash so it doesn’t get wrapped around your body. When you’ve fully turned in a circle and you’re back to facing the boys, you’re met with them smiling and Connie giving you a few claps of praise.

“And what are you guys supposed to be?” Sasha teases, raising her eyebrows and noticeably scanning her eyes over their questionable attire of pale brown jumpsuits with name tags plastered onto their chests that obviously weren’t their own names.

“Obviously Ghostbusters,” Connie holds his chin high and crosses his arms over his chest with pride, pulling a scoff from both you and Sasha.

“Where’s your ghost-busting equipment, huh?” Sasha cocks her head at the fact that a proton pack is absent from their attire.

You don’t get to hear Connie’s answer before Armin steps closer to you, a soft smile on his face while he extends his arms to you. You happily reach back, wrapping your arms around his neck to embrace him. It’s much easier than it was with Jean, the shorter boy’s hold on you being much more comfortable thanks to the angle.

“Hi _____,” Armin says while pulling away, but just enough so he can look over your face, keeping his hands on your hips for just a few moments longer.

“Hi Armin,” You say softly, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks in acknowledgment.

Eren decides he’s had enough when he sees Armin’s pretty blue eyes flit down to your lips. He pushes off the counter, past the girls in front of him, and towards you to get his best friend off of you.

Once he’s within an arm’s length behind you, he reaches his hands out, fingers flexed, and pinches your sides hard enough to get you to jerk within Armin’s grasp. Armin’s hands fall from your waist, and you quickly turn around to see the culprit of your attack.

You hold in a tiny gasp when your eyes meet beautiful jade green ones, and when you realize that his hands are still on your sides, letting your body shift within them.

The corners of Eren’s lips are tilted up into a smirk, tongue peeking out of his mouth to tease the inside of his bottom lip. His eyes flit from either of your eyes, then to your lips, then to the leather collar around your neck before returning to your face. His eyes narrow, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey; but he holds back.

“Scared you?” He takes a step closer to murmur into your ear, sending goosebumps scattering across your skin.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to hold back a smile, then you place your hands on his forearms before speaking, “Mmm, you wish.”

Eren gives a near-silent scoff before leading you back towards the others with a hand on the small of your back.

Electricity still buzzed around your hips, and on your palms from where you placed your hands on him. Your chest was already tight with excitement and pride, for you saw and felt his eyes dragging over every inch of your body.

Maybe, Sasha was right. That rubber band was being pulled thin, cracking under the tension, ready to snap… and soon.

You take a drink.

***

There were many times throughout the night when Eren Jaeger thought the rubber band of tension was going break; when the alcohol running through his bloodstream and the lust coursing through his veins threatened him mercilessly, and when you yourself kept pulling it tighter and tighter and tighter whether you knew it or not.

The first time took place only half an hour after he first saw you step into the kitchen. It was minuscule, minor, but it had him chewing at his bottom lip and turning away from the scene to prevent the pants of his jumpsuit from getting tighter than they already were.

The bag of disposable cups was nearing empty, becoming a mess of torn plastic as people tried to get their hand inside the bag for another one. The situation could have easily been avoided if people hadn’t have been so wasteful, but as much as Eren hated seeing you in the position it put you in, he was equally as thankful for it.

He swallowed hard when he saw you rise onto your tip-toes, calves flexing, the hem of your dress riding up the backs of your thighs as you reached for another bag of plastic cups from one of the highest shelves in the kitchen cabinets.

Five steps forward and a hand between your shoulder blades and you’d be bent over the counter you’re leaning against; ass pressed against Eren’s hips, unable to wiggle out of his arms without a proper footing on the hardwood floor. You’d be able to feel him, feel the thickness of the tension tangibly rutting up against you.

As much as Eren wanted to do it, wanted to bend you over and take you in front of everyone, he was thankful when Historia came up behind you and pulled the skirt of your dress back down over your ass and thighs to unknowingly help his suffering.

The next time was about ten times worse than the former. Instead of taking his bottom lip between his teeth, Eren ground his teeth together and squeezed tightly into your sides to the point where he knew it was hurting you, but the noise you let out in pain didn’t make it any better.

It was a tiny whimper — a yelp of a puppy when its little paw gets stepped on — when his fingers dug into the soft skin of your sides to push you backside off of his hips.

It was laughable, how much he just wanted to grind up against the fat of your ass but is now shoving you off so you don’t feel the hardness of his cock. that was caused by watching your body grind up against Sasha’s as you subtly danced to club throwbacks.

Sasha had gotten a little too rowdy, having a bit too much energy, and her playful pushing and pulling of your hips against hers had turned into bumping and whacking that had you stumbling away from her on impact. And after a particularly hard shove of her side against you forced you away from her and directly towards Eren — right into his arms and against his front.

So Eren grabbed you hard and pushed you off of his body, holding you out and away from him but still gripping to your hips tight enough to deny your squirming in his arms.

But when you looked back at him, eyes wide and glossed over with inebriation, holding your leash in your hands, he released you with a push of your body forward and back to Sasha, because he knew he wouldn’t last another moment with your puppy eyes gazing back at him like you want him to tame you.

But it only got worse. All the other times where you had his dick hardening in his pants couldn’t even begin to equate what you were doing to him now. You were a minx, a vixen; you weren’t wearing a devil costume but you were a devil sent by Satan himself, praying on Eren’s downfall.

Stupid little puppy — stupid little bitch — being so obedient for the one that has a hold on her leash. Sitting like a good girl, knelt on her pretty little knees on the kitchen island that he had looked past earlier to catch a glimpse of the garter belt you wear on your hips and thighs.

You look up at Sasha with wide eyes, for she still stands taller than you even with you sitting atop that kitchen counter. Sasha has the chain of your leash wrapped around her hand and wrist a couple of times until there’s zero slack and she’s gripping onto the clasp that connects it to your collar.

She pulls your head upwards and towards her, rising you off your seat on your calves ever so slightly, and your hands grab onto her forearm over the chains for stability. In her free hand is a bottle of pink lemonade flavored vodka, and she’s bringing it closer and closer to your face with every passing second.

Eren stands a couple of feet behind Sasha, watching you as you bring your mouth towards the finish of the bottle, your tongue lolling out of your mouth and head tilting up to ready yourself for the stream Sasha’s about to pour.

The room gets tense with anticipation, about as ready as you are to watch the alcohol spill over your pretty pink tongue. Eren can see people slap each other, urging the others to pay attention to the rather erotic scene before them. Some people listened to their pleas, others couldn’t bother or didn’t hear, but once Sasha tilts her wrist and elevating sounds of praise and applause fill the room, they all begin to look.

You rise higher once the sharp liquid hits your tongue, hands digging into the skin of her forearm as your hips raise from your calves. You look into her eyes as she feeds it to you, murmuring things like “good girl” and “such a good puppy” under her breath as she watches you swallow what she gives.

Everyone eats it up, watching the pretty pup perform a cool trick for her owner, being such a good girl, and doing what she’s told. Their eyes are hungry, eager, enraptured as they drink up the fat of your thighs and the curves of your ass, and the way your collar shifts around your neck with every swallow you take.

They’re blessed with the sight of you, your body, your sensuality, your playful and willing behavior when you’re just a tad too drunk to be decent. They were so lucky that Eren was almost jealous…

But he wasn’t.

Because he seemed to be the only one with the perfect view of the most intimate part of the garter belt you wore thanks to the way the skirt of your dress is riding up your thighs. He was the only one that got to see your pretty little cunt through the sheer fabric. He could barely make it out, barely got a glimpse before your legs were shifting again and your dress covered you up again. But in the mere second he got, he swears that he saw the outline of your pretty little slit.

“If you don’t fuck her tonight… I will,” Jean nudges Eren with his elbow and tilts his head towards the scene in front of him, just in time for Eren to look back to your face to see the alcohol spilling out of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and into the valley of your breasts.

Eren sees red. His eyes shoot back to Jean’s face immediately to catch the way his eyes devour you, and he digs his elbow in Jean’s side far harder than Jean had done to him.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you do,” Eren hisses, narrowing his eyes as he takes a step closer to Jean.

“Is that a threat?” Jean taunts, raising his eyebrows, an incredulous smile teasing his lips.

“It’s a promise.” Is the last thing Eren says before he’s reaching forward and grabbing the arm that Sasha has holding your leash.

He pulls her arm back to her body, watching as the chain unwinds from her wrist and her other hand lowers the bottle that was hovering out your mouth. He gives her a look, a warning, that says far more than his words ever could. She sets the bottle down onto the counter obediently before stepping back.

Eren takes her place in front of you, grabbing onto the leash that Sasha had let fall onto the countertop while you wipe at your jaw with your palms. He wraps it around his hand and forearm like Sasha did until he can slip his fingers between the collar and your neck, enough to tug your face to his.

You’re jerked forward, hands coming out to brace yourself on his chest and abdomen as he pulls you until your noses brush together. His eyes are concentrated as they flit over your features; from the way your lips part to the way your brows quirk into a worrisome expression — like a puppy caught doing something naughty.

You were trembling with anticipation. A whimper was already bubbling up in your throat from the proximity and grip he has on your neck and the way you can feel the muscles of his stomach twitch as he breathes heavily.

“I think I’m gonna take our little puppy for a walk,” His voice is dark, and his eyes meet yours fiercely; and even though he spoke as if his words were for the others in the room, you knew that they were directed for you and you only.

The room settled with the aftershocks of the previous events. The sight of your mouth hanging open for vodka was still so fresh in their minds as they conversed amongst each other that they missed the way that Eren had already begun to dominate you. They missed Eren pulling on your leash, sliding your body off the counter until your feet met the floor, then dragging you with him by the neck of your collar until you’re out of their sight.

He only looks forward as he pulls you behind him, thankfully loosening his hold on the leash so it hangs between the two of you rather than dragging you directly by the neck. You don’t resist his guide, you follow him with pathetic willingness; chasing at his heels as he takes long strides towards wherever he plans to bring you.

You were practically vibrating with suspense, your legs were like Jell-O and your arms were weak, and every time you heard the clinking of your leash you felt warmth spread up through your stomach.

The rubber band had snapped, and both of you knew it once Eren pulled you into one of the bedrooms on the utmost level of the house.

It was empty. The walls were bare of any decorations and the bedsheets lacked any character, so you safely assumed that this must be a guest bedroom. You hope it’s a guest bedroom.

Eren doesn’t seem to care either way, for once the two of you were fully inside the room, he shuts the door and quickly locks it while you stand a few feet inside, fiddling with your fingers and waiting for him to say something, anything.

But Eren only lets out a deep exhale, resting his free palm against the door while the other clenches tightly around the leather loop at the end of your leash. He takes a few deep breaths after that, desperately trying to compose himself so he doesn’t scare you… or worse.

You swallow hard, eyes flitting from the flexing muscles in his back through the tan jumpsuit to your shoes pressing into the carpeted floor, then to his hand that slides off the wooden door as he begins to turn towards you; slowly, hesitantly, like his restraint is thinning.

Once he fully turns to face you, he points a finger to the floor before him, “Come.” He demands.

You blink a couple of times in confusion, trying to process the tone of his voice and his body language. It takes you a moment to realize not just what he means… but how he means it, but it registers too late, and you’re being tugged forward by your neck.

The fist that wasn’t holding onto the end had grabbed ahold onto the chain, and Eren had tugged you towards him with such strength that you stumbled forward into his chest. Your hands reached out to space yourself away from him, and once you weren’t getting a faceful of his jumpsuit, you were getting a faceful of his own face.

He cupped your jaw with both hands, the leather strap itching against your cheek, and tilted his head down to you to carefully take your lips in his. It was a stark contrast to the previous tugging of the chain, but it was greatly appreciated.

His lips were soft, warm, so gentle it made your insides ache. He kisses you tenderly, starting with a long but chaste press of his lips to yours, but slowly increased the pace at which his lips left yours to only come back with more fervor.

You have to hold onto his biceps to steady yourself, for your brain was already fuzzy with warmth and arousal. They flex under your fingers every time he breaks away then pulls you back to him.

When you feel the warmth of his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips, you welcome it with a tiny gasp, but you only get to savor the taste of him for a brief moment before he’s pulling away to rest his forehead on yours.

“If you’re gonna dress like a bitch, I’m gonna treat you like one… okay?” He murmurs, tone much gentler than his words.

It was a genuine ask for permission. He was asking you if you were okay with him roughhousing with you; if you were okay with him treating you like the animal you were dressed as.

It ran a shiver down your spine, and he could feel you tremble in his hands. For a moment he’s worried he’s pushed you too far, but your voice interrupts his thoughts before he can pull away.

“Please,” You nod in his hands, pressing your forehead a little harder against his to enunciate your willingness.

Eren swallows, nods against your head, then mutters, “Oh fuck, okay.”

He kisses you, sloppier and deeper than before. His tongue slides against yours eagerly, and whines are gasps are pulled from you rather quickly.

You can feel him maneuvering the leash in his dominant hand, getting a better grip on it before he continues with whatever he has planned for you. He then takes his free hand off your face, and the two of you are left kissing with nothing but your own hands pulling you against him.

He pulls away to flit his eyes over your face before giving you one last soft kiss; a final moment of gentleness.

He steps on the slack of the chain that hangs between the two of you and brings his foot down until the chain is squeezed between his shoe and the floor. The tension jerks you downwards and you’re sent stumbling forward until your knees hit the floor with a deep thud and your hands come out in front of you.

“Eren,” You whimper, trying to sit upright, but his foot doesn’t let up and you’re left jerking back against the leather that digs into the nape of your neck.

“Enough.” He spits, keeping his shoe on the chain while he squats down in front of you to get your faces on the same playing level. At least he showed you a little respect.

He takes his foot off the chain, but only to grab it in the same hand that still holds the leather loop. It gives you the slightest bit of slack, and the muscles in your neck and upper back can relax a little; at least until he begins to slowly pull you towards him.

You’re forced to crawl a good step or two as he brings your face to his. It’s absolutely humiliating. Your knees still dig into the carpet and the heels of your palms press equally as hard into the floor. He’s still squatting, elbows resting on his knees as he looks down to you in the slightest.

The hairs that frame his face fall into it, covering parts of his eyes as he glares down at you like you’ve done something wrong. It hurts a little, to see him seemingly so upset, and your bottom lip quivers slightly as you sheepishly look up to him.

“Eren,” You sniffle, “Whatever I did, I’m - I’m sorry, I —”

“Shh,” His face relaxes at your vulnerability, and he lifts his arm from his knee to reach out with his hand to toy with the cute little ears atop your head with his fingers, “Shh, puppy, It’s okay. ‘m gonna tell you what you did wrong and you’re gonna be a good girl and show me you’re sorry, right?”

You know that he’s patronizing you, that he’s treating you like you’re a little dog, but his tone is so sweet and so gentle that it confuses you. His words are so demeaning, so shameful, but the way he’s saying it makes you want more.

“Yes,” You say quietly, trying to hide the shaking in your voice. You give him a tiny nod.

“Oh, good girl,” He smiles softly, tilting his head as his hand falls from your ears and to the side of your face, “Tonight… you thought it was okay to tease me; to prance around in this silly little bitch costume while your stupid little friend dragged you around on this kinky little leash knowing exactly what she was doing.”

He spoke slowly, letting every word he said sink in so you can process it. He kept that cruelly kind tone in his voice as he spoke words that were laced with venom. He mocked you, pouting and furrowing his brows when he says something upsetting to try and show you some form of fake sympathy.

And you ate it up; because he was petting your head, caressing your face, cooing softly as his thumb brushed over your cheekbone, speaking in a voice so soft that you were sinking your head into the palm of his hand to try and savor the way he was making you feel like you were floating.

“Now, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you didn’t know what little scheme she and Connie had going on — because you’re too stupid to even catch on — and I’m gonna show you a little mercy because you’ve been such a good girl while you listen. How’s that sound, puppy?”

“‘sounds good.” You murmur, letting your face fall further into the warmth of his large hand that cups your cheek.

Your eyes were heavy, drooping with lust, and Eren loved it. You were gone, and not because of the alcohol. You had slipped into your own little world the moment Eren began to pull you by that little leash you have on.

He knew it. He knew it the moment he heard the tiniest of whimpers escape your lips when Sasha would tug on the collar around your neck, or when your pupils would dilate and your face would relax when someone would reach up and compliment the cute little ears atop your pretty little head.

You were loving this, but not only the actions alone. You were loving doing this, and doing it with him.

Your entire body was in a haze, all fuzzy and static as you drank in every sensation you were beginning to embrace rather than fight. You were closer to sober than you were to drunk, but you felt like you were floating off the deep end.

Warmth was tingling throughout your every vein, stemming from deep in your stomach and spreading out to your fingertips. Your insides ached for him; for more of this and how he was treating you.

You only notice that you had closed your eyes amidst Eren’s gentle ministrations when you feel them shoot open after the warmth of his palm leaves your face. He had started to stand. He had taken his shoe off the slack of the chain and released it from one hand so his only hold on it was from the leather strap where it was truly intended to be held at.

You were still on your hands and knees as he straightened out to his full height, peering down at you with a smirk on his pretty face. You couldn’t even manage to feel embarrassed at this point for how submissive you were turning, because he was playing right into it — he was loving this as much as you were and you knew it.

“Sit.” He says, maintaining eye contact as you listen to his subtle command and sit back on your calves as you had on the kitchen counter not even half an hour ago.

Your palms come up to rest on your thighs, sliding over the scratchy sheer fabric of the stockings you wore that were beginning to be stretched by the clasps of the garter belt from the awkward positioning you had been in.

You look up at him intently, eyes full of admiration as you wait for his next command. You looked so eager, so willing, so desperate; it made Eren’s cock twitch in his pants. And if you were so lost in his eyes you probably would’ve seen it jump right in front of your face.

“C’mere.” He pats his left thigh with his free hand, gesturing for you to scoot a little closer to him.

You do. You wiggle forward until you’re almost looking up at him at a vertical angle from how close you are. You know what lays just in front of you; a special little toy that Eren was planning to give you for how well behaved you’re being for him. You have to swallow down the saliva that’s pooled on your tongue, and your thighs squeeze together as you feel arousal leak from your needy cunt.

He looks so good. There was the smallest smirk on his parted lips, and his eyes were narrowed with desire; he stands with his legs parted ever so slightly, and his fists clench and unclench as he waits for you to settle before him.

“Good girl. ‘m gonna give you a treat okay? But you’re gonna have to work a little for it,” The chain jingles as he brings his hands in front of him, up to his chest where the zipper at the front of the jumpsuit lays.

He watches the way you shift around in your seat once the sound of the zipper unzipping reaches your ears, and if your cute little ears were actually attached to your head, he swears that they’d perk up at the noise.

You begin to grow impatient with the pace he’s chosen, and you sit up to reach out and grab the zipper from his fingers, but he quickly swats your grabby hands away with the back of one of his own.

“No.” He says firmly but quickens with how fast he’s pulling the zipper down his chest.

When he reaches his stomach, the beige fabric finally caves and reveals the white tank top he wears underneath. He shrugs it off his shoulders so it falls to his waist when he finally reaches the bottom of the zip.

Your eyes drink in every tanned muscle that’s shown off in the dimmed light of the bedroom; every shadow and curve and freckle on his skin, all the way down to the sliver of soft skin of the bottom of his stomach that’s revealed due to the way his undershirt has ridden up and over the waistband of his briefs.

You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before — at the pool on hot summer days, after his basketball practices when his jersey was too drenched with sweat and water for it to be deemed comfortable — but never like this.

Christ, he wasn’t even fully shirtless right now and you were falling apart, melting in his hands at the sight of his toned arms and broad shoulders. You were so drunk on the sight of him up close, so lost in taking advantage of the freedom you were granted now that the band had broken that you had missed him shoving the waistband of both his briefs and the jumpsuit down to his thighs.

With your eyes still locked onto the planes of his chest, Eren takes ahold of the base of himself with his dominant hand, brings it to the side of your face, and slaps the length of his cock against your cheek. It’s cute the way you flinch away from it, but then you quickly open your mouth for him once you realize what’s slapped you.

“Look puppy, ‘ve got a little toy for you,” Eren chuckles darkly, slapping the length of himself against your cheek once more. The precum that leaks from the head of him sticks to your cheek then strings off to connect to the slit in his tip.

You whine softly as he pulls his cock away from your searching tongue, keeping you at a distance. And when you reach up with your hands again, he slaps them away once more, the chain clinks as he does so.

“Nuh-uh. Hands on the floor.” His eyes flit down to the carpet between you and you listen immediately, placing your hands between your knees, not wanting to waste another second where his dick isn’t in your mouth.

“Good girl, now sit still and let me play with your mouth, alright?” He murmurs, guiding his dick back towards your parted lips, “Open, tongue out for me… good girl.”

You watch every shifting expression on his face as he drags the head of his cock over your lips, spreads the precum over your lolling tongue, and coats your cheeks with your own saliva to toy with you.

This was a game, and even though you could see him clench his jaw with every slide of his cock across your tongue, he was still winning. For you were the one knelt before him, panting and begging like a dog for his cock as it’s slapped against your face and tongue.

Every time he circles the soft tip against the flat part of your tongue, your insides clench around nothing. You can taste his precum — sticky and faintly salty — resting on your tastebuds, and every time his cock leaks a little more, your cunt does the same.

But you didn’t notice the way your mouth did as well. Your saliva was dripping off your tongue, down your chin and chest, occasionally stretching from your lips to the floor as he kept shallowly toying with your gag reflex.

You were already opening your mouth wider for him, wiggling your little tongue up his shaft whenever you got the chance. Occasionally he would catch the faintest whine or whimper when he would pull himself off your tongue and completely out of your mouth to watch the way your drool drips to the floor.

You’d scoot forward real cutely, like getting closer to him would somehow convince him to stuff your mouth. But he wouldn’t give. You’d clamp your thighs around your forearms, grinding your cunt against nothing but air, but he still wouldn’t give.

He wasn’t gonna feed it all to you just yet, he wanted to see just how desperate you got before you were verbally begging him for more. The little test-run of your mouth he was currently getting was taking the edge off. But it was just muting that desire to just shove himself down into you until you couldn’t breathe.

Your lips were so soft, so smooth and pillowy, and he just wanted to stretch them wide with the girth of himself. And your tongue — fuck, that tongue — dripping with desire and burning-hot to where it gives him a good idea of what your insides will feel like. He wanted more of it, but he swore he wouldn’t give.

It wasn’t until you let out the faintest moan around his cock — when your little clit brushed up against your wrists that were still squished between your thighs — that Eren considered sliding his cock down your throat. And Eren was tempted, he was so tempted — scratch that, he wasn’t even tempted, he absolutely wanted to, but seeing you like this… like a bitch in heat… was all too fun.

“Look at you,” He hums, eyes flitting down to where you continue rutting your hips against your hands, your stupid little puppy brain already Pavloved into knowing that when her little clit gets touched, it’ll feel good.

“Christ, baby. You want it that bad?” Eren says incredulously, “Not even in that little cunt, just in your mouth?”

You pull off of him, saliva falling from your mouth to the floor, and you swallow down the rest that remains in your mouth before you speak, “Yeah, ‘want it so bad. Eren, please. ‘wanna make you feel good.”

Eren’s stomach tightens at your begging. God, he’s dreamed about this moment, he’s fucked his hand until he was stupid to this moment.

“God, alright, Open up for me,” He grits, adjusting his stance a bit so his knees don’t buckle the moment he feels the heat of your mouth engulf him.

You stick your tongue out and open up again, looking up into his eyes as he stares down to where the tip of his cock finally meets your tongue again. He tilts his hips forward, letting you feel the divet where the head turns to the shaft, and keeps going until he feels the smooth part of the back of your mouth rub up against the head.

“Oh shit,” He breathes, his free hand coming out to the top of your head, right between your puppy ears, fingers curling against the back of your head to push against the resistance of the entrance of your throat.

You gag, but only a little. Your throat closes around the head and part of the shaft as he keeps pushing inside at a generously slow pace. As eager as you were, he doesn’t want to hurt you. And besides, he’s afraid he’ll cum far too fast if he picks up his speed now.

The sight of your lips stretching around his cock, eyes beginning to water, body jerking whenever the length of him brushes up against your gag reflex, cunt grinding against your own hands, desperately trying to relieve the tension in your stomach — it was all far too much.

You moan around him, sending vibrations up through his spine when your nose brushes against the soft skin of his pelvis. You were full, throat and mouth completely full of cock.

“God… damn,” Eren breathes, pulling himself back out enough to slowly fill your mouth again.

He goes a bit quicker this time — not fast at all, but quicker. He held a steady pace of tilting his hips forward until your mouth was just past halfway down him, then tilting them back until only the tip remained.

It was fast enough to have his lips parting and jaw slacking, soft groans leaving his throat as filled you, but slow enough where you could still feel every pulsing vein that litters his shaft run across your tongue.

You didn’t push against his hand, but rather let it guide you to and away from him as he pleased. He seemed to like pulling you towards him at the same time he pushed his hips towards you, even occasionally giving a harder thrust to slip down your throat, purposefully gagging you.

“That’s it - that’s it, puppy,” He breathes, bringing his head back off his shoulders and adjusting his grip on your head to watch your lips stretch with the thickness of his cock.

His every praise shot straight south and sent another wave of warmth spreading through your whole body. You jerked your hips against your hands involuntarily as well, grinding against yourself as he used your mouth.

“‘slobbering all over my cock like - like it’s a toy, huh?” He gives you a near breathless chuckle, but it’s ended with a deep rumbling throughout his chest in a held-back groan.

Knowing that he was falling apart equally as fast as you were only had you twitching more. You timed his every thrust into your throat with a roll of your hips forward, wanting your pleasure to mirror his. And your every vibrating moan that came from that pressure on your clit had his hips bucking against your jaw that much harder. So his slow, almost love-making pace with your mouth had begun to slowly turn into genuine fucking.

You whine and you whimper because every thrust into your face had your body rocking backward, only for him to pull you back against him. And that stupid rocking, that stupid fucking of him into you was now perfectly timed with your cunt bumping against the heels of your hands without you trying for it to be so.

You became all too scared that you were going to make yourself cum. That winding deep in the pit of your stomach was burning hot and his every thrust and groan and oh my God that left his lips only wound you up tighter and fed fuel to the fire.

He’s only aware something's “wrong” when the vibrating and rumbling around his cock began to grow more frequent, but he only noticed that because more curses began to slip from his lips due to the pleasure it brought.

“Are — oh God — are you gonna cum?” He asks; voice strained as he looks down to where you pathetically hump your hands that are still so nicely folded exactly where he had told you to.

You give a weak excuse for a nod while his hips begin to slow their thrusts, followed by a choked-up sob that escapes around his length.

Eren immediately pushes back against your head to free himself from your mouth. Disgusting globs of saliva drip to the floor between you, down your own chin, and down his shaft to coat his balls.

He wasn’t going to have you cum yet, because if you were going to cum… he needed to feel it.

“Nope, no, c’mere,” He quickly pulls up his briefs, not bothering to wipe off his spit-covered dick, and bends down far enough to grab ahold of your biceps.

You can feel the leather loop of the leash dig into your arm as he tightly pulls you upright and away from your own hands, but you don’t even have time to tell him that it hurts before he’s pushing you backward and lifting you just enough to get you up and onto the bed. You fall back onto your elbows, backside against the mattress while your legs bend at the knee and feet hang off and the entirety of the leash rests on your stomach.

Eren stands before you, then reaches down for your ankles that hang just above the floor. He grabs ahold of each of them, then takes each one of your white sneakers in his hand only to slip it off a moment later, then he drops both legs back down to the mattress.

“Take the dress off.” He mutters, shoving the rest of the jumpsuit off of himself along with the white tank top he wore underneath it. His shoes come off as well and are kicked aside towards the pile of clothes.

You listen, hastily sitting up and grabbing at the bottom hem of your dress, shifting your hips just enough to be able to pull it above them before you grab the opposite sides and pull it up and over your head and shoulders. The chain jingles and you have to pull it free from the fabric of the dress. Cool air hits the tops of your thighs, between your thighs, your stomach, and your chest. Goosebumps break out over your flesh, and you visibly shiver.

Eren takes a step closer, presumably to reach for you, but when his hand goes a bit far too right and just past your body. You assume he’s going for the leash, but when you feel the absence of tugging on your neck, you find yourself confused.

That is until Eren stands at the edge of the bed with a pair of puppy ears held within both of his hands. They must have fallen off in the process of taking your dress off and you hadn’t noticed.

“C’mere,” He says, much softer than before.

You scoot forward on the mattress until you’re sitting fully upright on the edge of the bed and his thighs rest between your knees. Your head only meets his mid-chest, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem; because the next thing you know, you feel the ears being gently settled back onto your head.

Heat spreads across your face at the oddly intimate gesture, and you’re stuck between looking down at your lap to play with your fingers or looking over the smooth plane of muscular skin before you. As much as Eren finds your sudden shyness rather cute — for moments earlier you were humping your own hands like a dog in heat — he wasn’t going to have it.

“Look at me,” He says, two fingers coming up against your chin to tilt your head to him.

Your pretty eyes are glossed over with lust and admiration, and maybe a hint of contentment. Your hands still lay daintily in your lap, and you seem ready and willing for anything he’s going to give you.

“Quit giving me those puppy eyes. You’re gonna make it hard to treat you like a dog,” Eren says with a soft chuckle, bringing his head down a bit to place another gentle kiss on your lips.

You hum with satisfaction, the vibrations sending little bolts of electricity through Eren’s body and down to his dick that presses hard against the confines of fabric, still pent up from your mouth. His hips twitch against the open air, searching for friction but sadly finding none.

There’s still one more thing Eren wants to do before he allows himself inside you, so he lowers himself down until his knees dig into the carpet. You let out a quiet noise of disappointment as his lips left yours but quickly perk back up once you realized his intentions.

His hands grab ahold of your calves and tug you towards him until your backside is resting at the very edge of the bed, exposing your still barely clothed center to him. You need to remember to thank Sasha for convincing you to not wear shorts or panties underneath it; it was a risky move but has turned out to be so worth it.

You can feel Eren’s lips brushing against your thighs, so gently that you would’ve missed it if you were so sensitive. His heavy exhales spread over your skin, revealing his lack of composure even as he holds a calm face.

You’re so thankful that you were still propped up on your elbows because you’d never forgive yourself if you had missed the sight of his tongue slipping out of his mouth with a smirk turning up the corners of his lips as he drags it across your clothed cunt.

It was the softest and cleanest gesture that’s taken place, but it rocked you to the very core of your being. That contact sent shivers down your spine and a tightness building up in your throat that escaped it in the form of a whiny “Oh God,”

Eren could feel your arousal through the sheer lace as he flattens his tongue against you once more. The taste of you has his dick pulsing beneath his briefs, straining against the fabric and begging to fill you.

He was so hard. Oh God, he was so fucking hard.

He was leaking all over the fabric of his shorts; precum dripping down his cock with every pulse and throb that involuntarily happened whenever your hips twitched or your breath caught in your throat.

The heat that was swarming around in his stomach was bordering distracting. He could barely get the clips of the garter belt undone without his hands trembling or a groan living his lips as he continued to lick at you through the fabric.

He then tugged it down your legs as quick as he could while making sure he didn’t disturb the fabric of the stockings. He wanted those to stay on.

You let out a tiny gasp, just barely audible when the cool air of the room skimmed across your heated center; and you let out a louder gasp when you felt the warm air of Eren’s mouth fanning over you once he positioned himself back between your legs. You could feel his lips teasing at the inner part of your thighs that were the closest to where you truly wanted him.

He looks up at you with hungry eyes; pupils dilated and eyelids heavy as he lets out little pants against your skin. He was starving, but he was waiting for you to feed him.

“Fuck, please,” You breathe, keeping eye contact with him and nodding with encouragement as he brings his head closer to where you want him.

He keeps his eyes on you when his tongue slips between his lips to take the tiniest lick over your bare skin. It was just a little flick over your clit, just a test of the waters, but both of you let out the most pathetic groans you’ve ever heard. You were slick and warm against his tongue, and he had to close his eyes to prevent them from rolling back into his head. And his tongue was silky smooth, drawing out intense pleasure with even the smallest of laps at your cunt.

“Holy shit,” Your eyes flutter shut and your head goes lax on your shoulders as he takes a broader lick through the entirety of you, letting his tongue linger and savor the sweet taste of your arousal.

Your entire body melts when he continues those wide yet practiced strokes over your hole and precise and teasing flicks over your clit. You bunch the fabric of the sheets between your fists as you try to remain up on your elbows, not wanting to sacrifice the sight of him between your legs.

It was so sloppy, so so sloppy as he tasted the entirety of you. Every glide of his tongue over the most intimate parts of you had you clenching around nothing and milking slicker onto his tongue; which only caused him to salivate more. You were dripping with lust and saliva, to the point where you couldn’t tell which was which; but you didn’t care. It felt too good to care about the mess of it.

Eren kept his grip on your hips tight, forcing you to keep them flat against the mattress. He did a good job keeping you still, but there were your occasional jerks against his hands that had his tongue slipping deeper into you that he couldn’t stave off. It was no mind to him though, he would groan at the desperation that leaked off of you — out of you; the twitching and flexing of the muscles in your legs and stomach as he fucked his tongue into you were more than satisfactory.

Eren pulls his mouth off of you, but only for a second to say, “Take it off,” while reaching with his left hand for the bra that still hides your chest away from him.

Quickly, you sit up, reaching behind you with shaky hands to unclasp your bra and slide the straps down your arms. Your nipples have already perked up from the southern stimulation, but the revelation of cool air on them had another breathy moan escaping from your lips.

Eren groans against your skin at the sight of your breasts bare to him, and then he returns his hand to your hip, splaying his forearm over your stomach, but only to bring his right hand completely off of you and down to shove his waistband down over his hips to grab ahold of himself.

He jerks his cock slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he continues to drink at your cunt. He only opens his eyes to gauge your reactions to his tongue, for he’s worried that if he looks for too long he might prematurely spill into his hand.

Your angle atop your elbows thankfully grants you the ability to see his hips as he fucks his cock into his hand. Precum spills over his fingers and slides across his tip, so slick that it almost looks wet to the touch. Every dip of his tongue inside your cunt has another drip of it leaking from the tip that you just want to lick right up again.

He’s so wound up, fuck.

The muscles in his forearms strain and flex, tendons flexing under his skin to the point where it almost looks painful. And his cock throbs with every pump of his fist, veins pulsing beneath the sensitive flesh. He must be holding back.

And his dick, oh God, his dick. It’s big, fuck, he’s so big. He’s long and pretty and there’s the slightest upward curve that you know will hit the deepest parts of you and make it feel like he’s fucking into your stomach.

“Eren, I need - I need you inside me,” You pant, lifting one arm off the bed to reach for his wrist that’s still pressed against your stomach.

He listens, but not the way you want him to. He takes his hands off of your stomach and his cock and uses them both to pull you a little closer to him. Then, he grabs onto your ankles and lifts them until he can push against the underside of your thighs until your legs are pushed up to your chest and you’re forced from your elbows and flat onto your back.

The same hand that was splayed over your stomach now is splayed over the backs of your thighs, forearm resting in the crooks of your knees and keeping your legs pressed into your chest. His other hand comes between the two of you to slip two fingers inside you. You take him easily, loosen and slicked up from his tongue that there was barely any resistance.

You both let out a string of curses. Eren’s cock throbs, bobbing up against his stomach as he feels you squeeze his digits from the intrusion. Your cunt pulses around him a few times, trying to take him all in before settling and readying for more.

He curls them first, drawing a sob from your lips before he watches himself pull them back out. Your grip on him was tight, desperate, and needy, and he’s so close to just shoving his cock into you until you can barely speak.

It was right there, his cock was right there waiting to be fucked inside. It rested against the meat of your ass as he spread you open for him and filled you with his fingers. It was quite literally dripping against your right thigh.

The anticipation was brutal. You could feel it sitting there just as much as he could, and every time it twitched against you, you pathetically clenched around his fingers.

“Oh God, Eren please,” You sob, so desperate that you release the sheets from your dominant hand and reach down past your right hip, feeling around until you get a grasp on his cock.

It’s pathetic; both in how needy you were that you went to the point where you guided his tip towards your cunt, and then how easily he gave in and willingly pulled his fingers out and thrust inside you once he was properly lined up.

Both of his hands came back to the backs of your knees, pushing and pushing until your stocking-clad thighs were out of his way so he can properly watch your cunt suck in his cock. Your hands reached past your body to grab ahold of his hips, urging him and begging him to slid deeper even though he was already prodding against a spot that had you crying out.

You could feel the muscles of his upper thighs and lower stomach ripple against your fingers as he equally pushes inside a little more, but also restrains himself from bottoming out. But you were once again running his self-discipline thin, mumbling out, “need you deeper” and “more, give me more”

“If I give you more, you can’t — oh God — you can’t keep squeezing me like this,” Eren’s head falls back onto his shoulders as he squeezes his eyes shut, “‘need to let me in.”

“I can’t. Eren, I - I’m so close,” You gasp, tears springing to your lash line as you feel the warmth in your core become unbearable. You knew it was too soon; he just put it in, he literally just put it in and you were about to — no, you were cumming on his cock.

“Holy shit,” Eren groans, feeling that steady pulsing of your cunt throb against his cock, trying to milk what he wouldn’t give you. He just put it in and you were falling apart. He wasn’t going to last if you kept this up, “C’mon, fuck!”

Eren drops your thighs from his hands, falling over your body until his hands plant on either side of your head. He then brings an arm down to your hips, wrapping it underneath you and kneeling onto the edge of the bed to shift you forward.

You instinctively wrap your legs around him, drawing him in as he steadies the both of you at the center of the bed, then he pulls out only to fuck you through your first orgasm. His abdominals clench and tighten every time he draws his hips out, and there’s a dull yet wet slap that fills the room once he pushes inside again.

“There you go, puppy,” He lets out a breathy laugh, “There you go,” He lowers himself to his forearms, but takes his right hand to grab onto the base of the leash that’s still attached to the collar around your throat. He gently coaxes your head upwards, taking your open mouth in his and kissing you deeply as you struggle to kiss back; whimpers and sobs still leaving your throat.

Your hands slide up his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your palms until you reach his shoulder blades. Your nails dig in hard enough to draw a hiss from him, but it quickly turns into a deep rumbling in his chest.

“Harder,” You plead against his lips, squeezing your thighs around his waist.

Eren’s hand drops the leash and returns beside your head as he lifts his hips off of you until only the tip of his cock remains. He holds there for a little, letting your hole flutter around the sensitive skin, and then easily sheaths himself back inside.

It wasn’t harder, it was too difficult to fuck you hard like this. Your thighs were giving him a hassle with pulling out, and he didn’t have his own leverage on his side when he filled you again. On top of that, gravity wasn’t necessarily on his side either, he wasn’t fucking down but rather into.

He gave you a few more thrusts to tide you over before he pulled out to flip you onto your stomach. Your ass and thighs jiggled as your front hit the mattress, and when he grabbed ahold of your waist to prop you up for him, he gave the fat another slap to watch it ripple again; but this time from his own doing.

You pushed your ass against him, aimlessly searching for the tip of his cock to try and get it inside you, but instead, you feel the length of him slot between either cheek and you let out a sigh of distress and satisfaction as his shaft slides against your cunt.

One of his large hands grabs ahold of your ass, holding you out before him as his other hand grabs ahold of the base of his cock.

“Pretty ironic, don’t you think?” He mumbles, slapping himself against either cheek of your ass before guiding his tip inside, drawing a shaky sigh from you, “That I’ve got this bitch in doggy.”

Before you can give him a nod of agreement, he’s pushing back inside you with a deep groan. Your entire body recoils, back arching the wrong way at the intrusion that’s pushing so fucking deep into you that it almost hurts. You cry, choked up sobs leaving your lips and tears dripping down your cheeks and into the sheets as his cock prods at your fucking insides.

His hands help you back down, pushing against your waist to force your back into an arch that he finds much more suitable for the situation.

“You’re — Eren, oh God — Eren, you’re so deep.” You choke, a hand flying to your stomach and pressing against the plush of it like it will somehow force him a little shallower. The other hand holds onto the sheets tighter and tighter until your knuckles ache from how hard you’re gripping.

“Yeah?” He taunts, but his resolve is slipping. The sight of your pussy stretching around his girth has his entire body trembling to the point where it would be noticeable to you if you weren’t so fucked out, “I’m in your stomach, aren’t I?”

“Yes, yes I - it’s - fuck, I can’t,” Your hand moves from your stomach and reaches back to grab onto his hip, pushing against him to force him out a little.

Thankfully, he listens to your nonverbal plea and pulls out of you slowly, letting you savor the weight of his cock pulling out and dragging against your walls. He watches intently as you squeeze around his tip again, your body begging for more even though you were just begging for less.

He pushes back in slowly, waiting until your gasps of pleasure turn into those that seem to border pain to gauge how deep he should allow himself. And once he hears your, “oh god, Eren,” slip into a throaty, “oh shit,” he’ll pull back out again.

“‘m gonna fuck you so hard; gonna pound this little - this little puppycunt until you’re begging for my cum.” He seethes, taking a tight grip of your hips, “C’mon, let me fuck you hard, let me — oh shit — let me breed you.”

You cry out at that, at those disgusting yet cruelly arousing words he’s chosen to use on you. You forget all the pain that you felt when he was balls deep, and beg for him to do exactly as he’s said. You beg for him to fuck you hard, to fuck you until you were crying for his cock, for his cum.

He starts hard. He’s ruthless. His hips snap against yours with such power that your chest and face are getting pushed deeper into the mattress every time he fills you. Even though his thrusts are quick, they’re deep. Every one of them pushes his tip against your cervix, but he doesn’t sit there long enough for it to hurt because he’s pulling back out before a tear can slip from your eyes.

You can barely breathe, his cock still fucks deep into your stomach to the point where it almost feels like it’s in your throat all over again. You can’t even let out solid moans without them getting broken up by every thrust, your throat tightens up and your chest squeezes before you can let out a full exhale.

His fingers dig into the fat of your ass and hips so hard that you know they’ll leave a tender spot that will last the next few days, even now it was almost painful, but his desperation kept pushing you forward.

He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, he wanted your release just as bad as you wanted to be filled with his. His deep groans and hissed curses had your stomach flipping and cunt tightening around his cock. His occasional pauses between thrusts followed by the rhythmic pulsing of his length inside you were intoxicating. Seeing his restraint finally give was far more rewarding than an orgasm could ever be.

It was so intense, so brutal. You were struggling to take what he was giving you but you were still begging for more.

“Harder,” You strain, voice weak and rasped as you try to lift your head from the sheets to look back to him. His thrusts shift your vision, your body still jerking forward as his hips push against your, so you dig your fingers into the duvet to try and hold on; to try and stay still enough to catch a glimpse of his face.

Eren slows for only a moment, just to look over your expression before he picks his pace back up again. Your hair is splayed out over your head and into your face, completely a mess. A glossy sheen of sweat has gathered on your cheeks and neck and your lips are still raw and swollen from his assault on your mouth.

“Oh God, look at you,” He breathes.

Looking over you is what sent him over; it was the final breaking point. Eren reaches a hand forward to grab ahold of the chain that’s splayed out beside you. He takes the metal in his hand and loops it around his wrist a few times to give himself leverage when he begins to tug your body upwards.

You choke temporarily before using your own arms to relieve the tension around your neck. Even though your limbs are weak, they satisfy your desires to stay up.

Eren only gives you a moment of rest before he’s pulling you up again, continuing to wrap the leash around his hand to prevent any slack. You gasp and whine as you’re pulled up to his chest. Your shoulders dig into the muscle of his pectorals and your head is pulled back until it rests against the same shoulder that flexes to hold you against him.

You can hear every grunt and groan that slips past his lips now, suddenly forgetting all the pain that was brought to you as you were tugged upright.

His dick prods forward, pushing into you at a different angle that makes it feel like he’s threatening to tear you open and split through your stomach. And even though he can’t give you a full thrust like he wants to, that curve bumps into your g-spot with every grind of his hips and causes you to grip him until he’s satisfied.

“Look at you, fuck…” He hisses against your temple, bringing a hand around your waist to help you hold yourself up.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” You whine, “‘gonna make me cum again,”

Your words make his cock twitch again, this time a bit deeper. You can feel the dull pulsing of him inside you, especially when he holds himself as deep as he can go. That sends you over the edge again. You’re going lax in his arms, shaking and trembling as another wave of pleasure crashes through your entire being.

Your stomach gets tight and your pussy clenches and unclenches around his cock, drawing him closer and closer to his own release. Your sweet cries of pleasure shoot straight to his cock and have him gritting his teeth to try and stave off his orgasm just a little longer.

“Eren, please, cum - cum inside me,” You reach back for his hips with both hands, digging your fingers into the muscle of his abdomen and lower back, “I need it. Oh God, I need it so bad.”

Eren chokes, his head falling forward onto your shoulder before pulling back up, “Yeah? You need — holy shit — need your little cunt filled?”

“Mhm,” You nod quickly, aimlessly, so desperate for it.

“Jesus fuck, I’m cumming - I’m cumming so fucking hard, fuck!” His hold on your chain and your hips releases and you’ree sent falling into the mattress again; hitting the duvet with a little oomf.

Eren pushes your hips flat and straddles the backs of your thighs, gripping your ass in his hands and pushing his hips up into you until he’s literally pushing you up the bed with how deep he’s trying to go.

He’s in your stomach again when he cums, and you swear you can feel the warmth spreading all the way to your brain.

Your vision goes white as your orgasm is dragged out through his. You can barely hear him speak, but the deep timbre of his voice only forces your walls to steadily throb for a little longer.

“Can you feel it? Can you feel it inside you fucking - fucking waiting to be taken by your little puppycunt, waiting to breed you,” He pants, keeping one hand on your ass while another pushes down on your back, “Fuck, I’m still cumming… fuck,”

You breathe heavily as you feel him finally hit blanks, cock still throbbing but no cum left to milk from him. He’s breathing equally as loud, deep, and heavy breaths coming from behind you as his chest rises and falls.

Eren closes his eyes, loosening his grip on your body and letting you relax as he sits back on your thighs. His cock is still hard inside you, marinating with a hot mixture of both your release and his.

It takes both of you a moment before your breaths are steady enough where you’re not worried you’ll pass out with the simplest of movements. He slowly pulls out of you, bringing his eyes down to where you meet to watch his milky cum seep from your used cunt.

You can feel it leaking out of you, dripping down to the backs of your thighs as he keeps going until none of him is left inside you. With the weight of his dick gone, you feel a little less full than you did with it inside, but still full enough to be content.

Your heavy pants eventually turn into satisfied sighs, and you curl your arms around your head to shove your face into the crook of your elbow. Your eyes flutter shut again and you take the time to ease your breaths back to normal.

Eren crawls up beside you, one of his hands splaying over your back and running up to your shoulder blades, then up to the collar and leash that still attach to your body.

“C’mere,” He murmurs, tugging on the chain one last time to coax you to lift your head to him.

You don’t open your eyes as he turns you onto your side to kiss you one last time; slowly, sensually, painfully gentle compared to his earlier actions. It makes your heart ache, but not as much as his next actions do.

“This can’t be very comfortable,” He says with a light heart, turning your back to your stomach and pushing your hair out of the way to reveal the back most buckle of the collar.

His fingers are gentle as they unclasp it, freeing you from the harsh leather. And just like that, you were pulled out of that wonderful headspace, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Your mind became clear and it finally hit you that he was here with you. After all that pushing and pulling he was now in some random person’s bed… with you.

“Something tells me we’ll be saving this for another time,” He sets the chain and leather onto the bedside table and it clinks as it settles. Then, he comes back to you and presses a gentle kiss to your temple, “How’s that sound, puppy?”

You smile drunkenly, “Sounds good with me, sir.”

#fic q

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