Such A Slut

Such a Slut

Bakugou Katsuki x afab reader

Contains: slight breath play, 'dom' reader, 'switch' Bakugou, language, marking, kissing, v v tiny 'handjob' (if you can even call it that), degrading, think that's it?

A/N: please someone tell me WHERE to get the pretty little banners from, the smutty ones, the cute ones. I just want some pretty banners cuz I feel like my posts need to be prettier. Also venturing out a little here with Bakugou, really hope I did him some justice. I just wanna put him in his place sometimes, you know? Fuck with him a little. As always, read with caution and such. Word count is a little over 1,000. If that matters.

Thirst Thursday?

“You’re such a slut, Katsuki.”

The blonde whips his head toward you, his ruby-red eyes wide in shock and anger. “Hah?! The fuck did you just call me?! You damn-” You giggle, twirling a strand of hair around your finger, cutting him off, “You’re a slut.” Katsuki's face turns redder by the second, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles begin turning white, small blasts coming from them. You swear you could see steam shooting from his ears.

“I mean look at you. Dressed like a slut.” You grin cheekily, teasingly, and he scowls. “The fuck do you mean? How is my hero suit slutty?” It brings you the utmost joy. The utmost pleasure seeing him so furious. You smirk, “Oh come on, Katsuki. You don’t see it?” Your words only seem to anger him further, you can see it. In the way his nostrils flare, the way the veins in his neck seem to bulge out, and the way his forehead begins to dampen with sweat. All because of you.

His stance his deliciously broad shoulders hidden in his sleek hero suit are tense, like the rest of him is. His fingers clench and unclench, his hard gaze fixed on you and that stupid, shit-eating grin you continue to wear. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not a slut and I never-” You cut him off, faking a pout, “Oh but Katsuki, you are. A big slut, and you pretend you aren’t but deep down you are. The biggest, sluttiest-” This time, it’s him who cuts you off, speaking through gritted teeth, his fist slamming into a nearby wall. “I swear if you call me that one more goddamn time, I’m gonna blow your fuckin’ head off! You hear me, Y/N?! I’m not no damn slut! It’s my goddamn hero suit, you brainless twig! Idiot! I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but stop calling me that!” 

You feign innocence, tapping your index finger against your lip. “Calling you what, Katsuki? A slut?” You smirk as his hand slams into the wall again, denting it this time, and curses tumble from his lips. “Damn you, Y/N! The hell is wrong with you?! I warned you, didn’t I?!” His heavy boots thump thump thump towards you and, in a matter of seconds, he’s looming over you. His hands come crashing into the wall on either side of your head, caging you between it and his body, his voice low and menacing. Bingo.

“You little brat. Calling me a slut. Who the fuck do you think you are? I bet you’re some little freak who gets off on this shit. Your panties drenched or something? Filthy fucking brat. This must be some sick fetish of yours, right? Something you do before you go rub one out? You’re pathetic and sick, Y/N. I’m gonna beat the living shit outta you, you goddamn-” 

“Kiss me.” He freezes, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open in shock. He stares at you, dumbfounded, dizziness overcoming him, and everything else fades away. Time seems to slow around him now, his mind replaying your words over, and over again. He can’t believe it. Just minutes ago you were insulting him and now you want him to…kiss you? His anger just dissipates in an instant, shock showing in his features, except in his eyes. His eyes hold a different emotion, a certain desire. You smirk, satisfaction showing in your features, a certain smugness he wishes he could wipe off. 

So he does.

He grabs you, holds you firmly against him, presses his big, bulky frame against your smaller one, and crashes his lips onto yours. It’s a messy kiss, an angry one. His gloved hand tangles in your hair, his fingers gripping and tugging at the strands to force your head back. His free hand, which was gripping resting on your hip, moves up to rest on the wall behind you, his palm flattening against it. He feels like he’s got the upper hand, especially when he further traps you between his body and the wall behind you. So, when he parts his lips and swipes his tongue along your bottom one, he expects you to open your mouth and grant him the access he’s demanding. 

He doesn’t expect your hand to wrap around his throat. For you to squeeze your hand, cutting off his oxygen. He doesn’t expect you to part your lips, for your tongue to venture into his mouth and dominate the kiss he was once in control of. He doesn’t expect you to push him back, to guide him until the backs of his deliciously muscular thighs meet a wooden table. He doesn’t expect your lips to wrap around his tongue, for your hand to tighten around his throat again. And he certainly doesn’t expect the guttural groan that slips past his lips. 

Of all the things he never expected, he certainly didn’t expect to enjoy this treatment. Especially from you. But when he feels the familiar tightening of his pants he knows he needs more. Before he can even think of taking back control, your free hand travels down his chest and your lips leave his. Tracing over the muscles of his toned torso, your lips press against his defined jaw before moving down to the column of his throat. 

As your hand continues to make its way down, your lips press hot, wet kisses along his throat, licking, sucking, and biting the sensitive skin there, pulling more groans from him. His breath hitches when your fingers graze against his throbbing dick confined in his pants. Just as he’s about to roll his hips forward, seeking more of your touch, you pull your hand away. A chuckle slips past your lips as you kiss your way up to his ear, your lips grazing the tip of it, your voice dropping noticeably. “Now now Katsuki. I thought you weren’t a slut? What happened?” 

A low growl, a rumble from his chest, reverberates through your body as he speaks deathly low, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. “What the fuck-” He’s cut off mid-sentence by you firmly squeezing the bulge, even more prominent now. He hisses softly at the sudden friction, his hips rolling into your palm unconsciously, his mind beginning to cloud over. He thanks whatever god there is when your hand slowly rubs across his clothed dick instead of pulling away, giving him a taste of what he could have.

His eyes flicker up to yours, down to your hand rubbing against his bulge, then back up to your eyes, unsure of where to settle his gaze. Your lips graze his ear once more as you move in to kiss him. Stopping just mere inches away from his lips, your breath fans across his face softly as you murmur. “It’s okay, Katsuki. Don’t worry. You’re my slut.”

"And I'll treat you accordingly."

Pls hold while I burst, ty my love! 🥹💖 I don’t think I have ten but I’d love for anyone to continue this!!

Tagging: @cherryblossomsenpai @meowzfordayz @thecowboykatsuki-anon @bakakughoe @xxsabitoxx

Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful! Keep the game going to make someone smile💙

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GRADIENT MDNI DIVIDERS

divider archives !!

Can you imagine...Yandere!Tengen?

TW:obsessive behavior, ulterior motives, yandere themes, manipulation, fear, abuse of power (goes with manipulation), predator/prey "dynamic" (reader is chased), mentions of a future family, demons, suggestive (Tengen is a cheeky little shit <3)

Best-friend!Tengen who loves to train with you. He always makes sure his training equipment is in pristine condition when he hears you’re coming over.

Best-friend!Tengen who pushes you past your limits, refusing to hold back on you because “how else will you get strong and flashy?”

Best-friend!Tengen who hardly breaks a sweat when training with you, but lives for the not so subtle glances you make at his toned body when he undoes the buttons of his uniform.

Best-friend!Tengen who uses his extraordinary strength to pin and maneuver your smaller frame, always surprising you with just how quick he can be despite his broadness.

Best-friend!Tengen who grins so widely when you squirm underneath him, flat on your tummy with your arms pinned above you.

Best-friend!Tengen who struggles to contain a deep, throaty groan when your ass wiggles against cock. Biting his cheek and grinning when you squeak from surprise at more of his weight being put upon you.

Best-friend!Tengen who loves listening to you rant about him. How he’s helped you grow so much, how his training is difficult but oh so worth it, but his favorite thing to hear is your rapid heartbeat, thundering so loudly each and every time you speak so well of him.

Best-friend!Tengen who comes to you with a new training plan, some form of a chase, tag was it?

Best-friend!Tengen who gives you a generous head-start, he wants you to give it your all! He even brought you to an unfamiliar area so neither of you have an unfair advantage and you can practice your skills at the same time.

Best-friend!Tengen who waits, he gives you a full minute before he takes off in the direction he last heard you go in.

Best-friend!Tengen who catches up with you in no time, but he stays back, choosing to watch you instead.

Breaking!Best-friend!Tengen who relishes in the rapid thump thump thump of your heart, your shallow breaths, despite having mastered Total Concentration Breathing Constant, because you’re scared.

Breaking!Best-friend!Tengen who watches you become more and more panicked the more and more you get lost, your heartbeat and breaths increasing in speed.

Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen who “finds” you when the sun starts to set, he doesn’t want you fighting demons yet.

Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen who gathered all the information he needed, and more, in just one “training session”.

Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen who carries you back to his estate, loving the way you feel in his arms, and knowing his plan is going exactly the way he wants it to.

Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen who spent months gathering demons, from every mission he was sent on, and putting them into mountain, whose base was surrounded by wisteria tree, ensuring their captivity.

Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen who built a wonderful house for you to live in with him, also surrounded by wisteria trees, he wants you and his future family safe after all.

Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen who now knows how long you’ll run for before fear overtakes you and you give up in a panic.

Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen who also knows that with the addition of demons you’ll never leave him, you won’t be able to run, the demons ensure your captivity.

After all, that’s why Yandere!Best-friend!Tengen came up with the chase, don’t you know?

Unholy

Priest!TanjiroxFem!Reader

TW: male mastubation, perv!Tanjiro, obviously religion/religious beliefs, church setting, mentions of spanking, choking, edging, overstimulation, degrading is mentioned but not used towards anyone

A/N: I haven’t posted in a fat minute 😅 my bad, wrote this in class cuz I have nothing to do 😗✌️this definitely has incorrect church terms so there’s that. Anyways I need to finish my WIPs asap. Will get to that when I can. K bye!

You’re late.

You’ve never been this tardy before.

You’re punctual, each and every Sunday. Sure there’s the occasional 2 to 5 minute tardiness but it’s rare. This, however, this is concerning.

Fifteen minutes into sermon and there’s no sign of you. Your usual spot right in the front is empty, he notes. The first reading gets done and you're still nowhere in sight, it's odd. Where on earth could you be?

It's only during the second reading, right in the middle of it to be exact, that you come rushing in as quietly as you can. Face flushed, clearly embarrassed from what the redheaded priest can smell, but there's something off. Something else he smells that he can't quite put his finger on, until it quite literally hits him.

Your arousal.

Once you're seated and close enough, he knows he isn't imagining it. While working as a priest he's had some encounters with some….strange people. Confessing their sins to him in the small confession box that became stuffy and uncomfortable once they started confessing their deepest desires.

Ones he knew most of them acted upon and, in that time of clarity they had after, they felt guilty about. So they came to him, seeking repentence but still smelling of their arousal, mixed in with embarrassment of course, while confessing to him.

He's heard it all; women wanting to be tied up and blindfolded, used by a man as a 'cheap whore', even men wanted to be used up, roughly treated by the woman of their dreams. He's heard a variety of punishments that people fantasize about, spanking, choking, overstimulation, edging, even degrading.

He had never been so surprised in his life! The ways in which they wanted to be talked to, it was shocking. He could never imagine doing that to anyone, even if he was angry or the circumstances were different.

He counts himself lucky he’s ‘married’ to the Lord, not having to worry about his partners and what they wanted in and out of bed. He has some strange church people, he fears for even the children most days.

It’s lonely most days though, not having someone to talk to besides the Lord himself. He wishes for a hand to hold, arms to encircle him and hold him tightly. Someone to cherish and love, to make memories with, to come home to. To be his home.

He dreams of you.

It’s you that holds his hand, your arms that wrap around his broad shoulders or slim waist. You are the one he cherishes and loves, the one who makes memories with him, the one he comes home to.

You are his home.

Each morning he wakes up to the shining sun, the birds singing their song. Another day the Lord had made and given him, but it’s not what he wants. He’s not ungrateful, he’s glad he gets to see the beautiful colors of the rising sun, but he’d rather wake up and see you.

You laying next to him, hair splayed about on the pillow, plump lips open just the smallest bit, chest rising and falling slowly with each breath you take. The sun lighting your features, each little beauty mark or freckle on your pretty face.

Your soft breaths the only audible sound in the otherwise quiet room, calloused hands sliding their way under your body and slowly pulling you closer. Trying his hardest not to wake you, he holds you tightly against him.

He never wants to let you go, doesn’t want the morning to end. He wishes time could stop, he wishes he could hold you longer, relish in your warmth just a bit more. He knows it’ll end soon, your warmth will be gone, replaced with an emptiness he can’t seem to fill. One he only dreams you can fill.

But that’s all it is, a dream.

And he wakes up each time in disappointment.

He holds back the sigh that threatens to escape him as he rises from his chair, heading towards the altar. The choir is almost angelic, their voices loud, clear, and proud as he raises the blessed book. Holding it up over his head he turns side to side, showing the book and mumbling a small blessing.

Walking to the microphone he steals a glance at you, but you avoid his gaze, smelling of shame and regret. The same scent of those who come to confess after their sexual activities. It’s strange.

He goes through the reading, often glancing at you only to be disappointed when you avert your gaze to the small book in your hands, filled with psalms and other lyrics of songs. He’s confused, perhaps he’s made you uncomfortable with his glances?

Perhaps you’re leaving the church? No, that wouldn’t do. You’re a woman of faith, you’ve devoted yourself to the Lord. Your entire life you’ve given to the Holy One and you entrust that he will take care of you.

You’ve done your first communion, your confirmation, you’ve even talked about getting married in this very church. He doubts you will ever leave, maybe you’re just questioning your faith. He knows, as a priest, that it’s very common for young people.

Perhaps he can convince you, as he has many other troubled people, to reconsider and stay a part of the blessed church.

“Father Kamado, are you available for a confession today?” You feel horrible, shame is eating away at you. What you did was bad enough, but prolonging it and being late to church? You should be ashamed.

Nodding, Tanjiro takes your arm gently and leads you to the confession box, “Are you alright? You seem troubled.” Your face is bright red and his touch only brings on more shame, but you nod, “Yes father, I’m alright.”

Lies, he can smell the lie but he decides not to push it, maybe you’ll explain once the confession starts. He can’t imagine what you’ll confess though, a perfect woman like you? Practically an angel yourself, what wrong could you do?

He doubts God himself would turn you away from the gates of heaven, you’re too perfect. Too kind-hearted, caring, nurturing, understanding, too pure.

If only he knew.

If only he knew what dirty things you’ve done. The downright filthy, horrible acts you’ve committed in your home. The impurity of you and your mind, some women would call it practically horrid.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.”

“May the Lord help you to confess your sins.”

You’ve never been more ashamed, but you know you must admit it, especially if you want to be cleansed of this. The terrible acts you’ve committed, you want to repent, you must repent.

So you blurt it out.

“I’ve acted on my fantasies, Father.” There’s a pause and you clutch your small purse, a shift in the mood, the atmosphere itself. The confession box becomes hot, stuffy, uncomfortable.

Do you try and backtrack? Try to make it less awkward? But how can you, admitting to something as terrible and unholy as that, then try and make it seem as if it’s truly nothing?

“F-Father, forgive me, I didn’t mean to-“ the creak of wood cuts you off before Tanjiro’s words do, “What kind of fantasies?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He can’t help it, it’s too much yet too little at the same time. The explicitness, the embarrassment. It’s much too stuffy in the small box, he need air, needs to cool down.

Off come his robes.

It's wrong. So very wrong but he can't help it, he knows that he's ruined himself, that you've ruined him. Tainted his very soul, rid him of his innocence. The very thing he prided himself on, the thing he was sure would guarantee a spot in the heavenly kingdom above.

Now he's not so sure, he's positive there is no way to redeem himself. Not anymore, not after what he's about to do. Not when he tugs down his trousers and wraps his hand around the shaft of his hardening cock.

Not when he slowly starts pumping, moving his hand up and down, feeling the prominent veins running along the base. He places his free hand on the wall of the small box, desperate to ground himself, to silence the sounds of pleasure that threaten to come out, choosing to focus on your voice instead.

You're embarrassed, it's clear in your tone and scent, but you keep talking, knowing that this is much better than keeping it in. You're repenting after all, it's what you're here for, you need to do this.

You go into detail, the way he had asked you to, explaining the way you pushed your fingers into you core, the very one that was dripping because of him. The way you rubbed the little bundle of nerves, only intensifying the pleasure you had felt.

Full of shame, you continue explaining, your face burning and your stomach filled with regret, twisting and turning in the uncomfortable box you shared with the redhead.

The redhead who was currently stroking himself to you words, with the filthy words coming out of your mouth he was able to form an image of you. It may not be accurate, but it is definitely enough for his orgasm to approach faster.

"I know what I did was wrong, Father Kamado. I only wish for forgiveness, that is all I ask for."

He takes a moment to respond, the blissful state he's in making it difficult to answer you, but he speaks, "The Lord is merciful, he surely will forgive you if this is a one time occurance, but please...."

He pauses and throws his head back, barely biting back a loud whiny moan that surely would get him caught as his orgasm crashes over him in waves. His hand only moves faster, he twitches and tenses as thick white ropes of his cum coat his hand and trousers.

His breathing is ragged, hair is tousled and sticking up in every which way, but he speaks again, in a lustful voice that has your stomach churning and core aching once more;

"Come to me the next time you feel this way. I believe I can guide you in the right direction, should the need present itself again."

All credit to you 🫶

𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 | pattern 01.

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