kingkatsuki

[kingkatsuki]

Anyway, while I was gone I was thinking of this stupid idea with Bakugou (as usual)

Imagine your eighteenth birthday is when you find out who you’re bonded to, and this bond is created via telepathy. A connection opens between two souls, and you’re able to communicate with each other no matter where in the world you are. A connection that only becomes stronger as your relationship with your soulmate grows.

But of course, connections can be broken. The same way those dreamlike fantasies of meeting your perfect soulmate don’t always work— especially when your soulmate is Bakugou Katsuki.

The first time you try to communicate with him, he brushes you off. Telling you to “piss off”, that he doesn’t “need a fuckin’ soulmate”. It’s a time in his life that arguably he needs that connection with someone more than ever. But the feelings of inadequacy and inferiority he holds inside are at an all time high as he pushes everyone away, including you. Shutting the door on any hope you had of ever having a connection with him, of finding your soulmate.

You try again a few times after, watching all your friends develop their love and even meet their soulmates. Hating the green-eyed monster that appears when you realise how bitter you actually are— to be paired with someone that has no interest in you. Cursed to be one of the ones without a soulmate, to try and find a love with another broken person like you.

The conversations are always the same— his irritation for your very existence no match for the conversations you try to start. Making it abundantly clear to you that you’re a distraction, that he doesn’t have time for a soulmate. And yet amongst his complaining that you’ve opened the link at a bad moment, or that he doesn’t need you— he always answers.

So over time you find yourself starting to give up, wondering why you’ve wasted so much time on a man that clearly doesn’t want you. The connection going quiet as neither of you try to open the link.

Radio silence.

And what makes it worse, is your friends who have perfect connections pity you. One of the lost souls without a soulmate— which is why you’re prepared to join a special program. A program that can realign your connection— to tie your soul to another.

It’s unorthodox, an extreme measure that has an endless list of side-effects. You could end up with the more undesirable members of society, who’s connections have been severed before, or the ones that abuse the system for their own benefit— and if the second connection doesn’t work out you’re unable to claim a third. But craving that special bond with someone, picturing the perfect smiles and pickett fences it’s more than worth the risks. So you plan to do it— to sever your connection with your soulmate, and find a new one.

Someone who will actually love you.

But it isn’t until one night that you hear something at the back of your mind, barely a murmur as you shoot up in bed. Squinting as you try desperately to focus on the sound— another whimper. But you can’t seem to make out much else, as you realise that it’s the same connection that you thought was completely shattered all those years ago.

“Hello?” You feel almost stupid calling out, wondering if he even realised that you could hear him again— that you were there.

“Long time no talk, hah sweetheart?” He scoffs, a choked cough spills from his lips after as he winces in pain.

“You sound like shit— is that why you reconnected our bond at four am?”

“Must’ve called the wrong number, sweetheart.” He sneers, but you can almost hear the humour in his tone.

“Well luckily for you I’m going to break our bond.” You bite back as you’re met with silence on the other end, “So you won’t have to make the same mistake again.”

“You can do that?” He whispers.

“Yeah, they can reconnect me with someone else.” You murmur.

“They won’t be as good as me.” He manages to get out before another cough wracks through his body.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” You scrunch your nose in irritation, “But at least they’ll want me.”

“Who said I don’t want you?”

It’s not until a month later that you find out the real reason he reconnected the bond that night. That it was the night that his heart stopped beating as he almost lost his life, his body shutting down as the only thing he could think to do was to call out for you.

[kingkatsuki]

#always reblog💕 #hail to the king

[kingkatsuki]

LOOK UP TO ME

an: this was so entirely self-indulgent when i started this (and vaguely i’m imagining him as a rockstar around the 80s tho you can imagine whatever you like obvs!) but it’s his birthday so it was about time i revisited this depravity and finished it lol. happy (maybe slightly late) birthday bakugou <3

cw: everyone is an 21+, rockstar!bakugou, fan!fem!reader, idolisation and worship themes, flirting/banter, oral (m!), reader is called “doll”, biting is vaguely mentioned, reader wears a skirt + lipstick + has cleavage on show — unedited, nsfw, MDNI.

It must have been fate that you were able to score a front row ticket to one of the most highly-anticipated concerts of your time. Not only was Bakugou Katsuki’s tour sold out within minutes, but this venue in particular was revered as The Show to see.

With elaborate staging and the largest venue he was performing at, the real kicker was that this was where he was filming the full-length concert DVD as this was the peak show of his tour. If the possibility of you being caught on camera at his feet wasn’t enough reason to sway you into buying it in an attempt to relive this night (though you doubt anything could come close to seeing him in the flesh), there would also be behind the scenes of the tour, all the prep that went into building the show, and a peak into more of him. The man, the myth, the legend.

He had a reputation for being shameless, but even knowing that, it still shocked you just how shameless he was, standing at the edge of his staging and fist pumping to the crowd during the more intense instrumentals, hip thrusting, ripping his shirt off before the first song even ended. At one point he laid at the far end, reaching out to whoever could reach, eliciting a swell of shrieks from that corner.

It amused him to see the affect he had. The power he had to be seen as an idol, to illicit a response from the crowd so easily.

He had passed your seat a few times, but it was several songs in that he caught your eye, winking, then coming back when the lyrics felt right to him, a teasing line — “if you need me, babe, then we won’t sleep tonight” — crouched, hand running down his sweat-slicked abs and looking straight at you, cocky smirk and all.

Like he knew exactly what that moment of attention would do to you.

You hated that he was right; you had never felt such an intense desire for a man before. Everything about him garnered your attention, from his confidence to his body, thick and muscular, biceps flexing with every fist pump, every pound to the floor when he was laid out for the drum beat.

He grunted, sounded like pure pornography when he was riled and high on the adrenaline from the sea of faces chanting his name and his lyrics back to him. He oozed sex appeal in a way that you couldn’t settle the arousal burning through you. When he stood above you, all you could do was admire him from your place at his feet, looking up the length of his leather-clad legs and his glistening skin under the harsh stage lighting. And still, with nowhere to hide his flaws, you only saw perfection.

He was a God beaded with golden perspiration.

You were another voice in the chorus of his praise, and with every look he sent you, your heart skipped a beat. It was delusion to think he had noticed you, that you could be any different from the many, many women he saw at his shows each night, but you wanted to believe the way he looked at you with his tongue tracing his teeth, all smirks and hungry eyes, meant something.

What would be the harm to escape into the fantasy for one night, for a couple of hours, while you had the chance to gaze upon him in real life?

To his salacious lyrics and dirty guitar riffs, you sunk deeper and deeper into your late-night-wet-dream fantasies about him. Of what he could look like below the belt, and how he might look when looming over you while you let his use you in any way he desired.

But your brain kept cycling back to the thought of his cock in your mouth, feeling the weight of it, the taste of him leaking onto your tongue mixed with the salt of his skin. That’s what you really wanted, and it made your mouth water.

And by whatever merciful, higher being decided you were worthy of having your wish come true, after the band took a stage left, you were called back by security under instruction from the Katsuki himself.

You follow backstage, led all the way to his dressing room, still thrumming with the adrenaline and arousal in your veins.

“You made it.” Pleased to see you and far too confident you’d be coming backstage at his call, his presence brought a heaviness to the air.

Perhaps foolishly, you were expecting the band to be with him, but with security having shut the door on their way out, it was just the two of you, and the sexual intensity was pouring off of him.

“Isn’t anyone else coming?”

“Did’ya wanna share me?”

The innuendo almost makes you choke, speechless. No, you most certainly didn’t want to share him with another fan, but the full spotlight of his attention on you and only you was stifling.

Your knickers might just melt straight off with how hot your pussy had become, weeping molten and desperate.

“Come on, don’t act shy now. I saw how you were lookin’ at me. Y’eyes were fuckin’ twinklin’ at the thought.” He crowds you at the door, necklaces glinting in the low light of the lamp at his dressing table. “Kept coming back just to see.”

It’s no lie. You were too absorbed in the moment to calculate the difference, but he spent more than half of the concert on your side of the stage, more often than not with one foot propped on the speakers and his hips cocked forward, rocking to the beat.

It was a performance, a tease, only you hadn’t known it was to wind you up. You could pretend all you wanted, but to find out he noticed you this much, you had to believe his word because you were standing here when no one else was. This could be his act to keep a streamlined series of women moving in and out of his dressing room each night for his own entertainment, unattached and under the impression they were special enough to catch his eye — he certainly had his staff trained well enough — but what he did any other night wasn’t of your concern. Not in that moment.

If this was your one opportunity to sleep with your daydream fuel, smelling of musk and something sweet, you weren’t planning on wasting time questioning the situation.

His fingerless leather glove tightens over his knuckles as his fingers curl under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, but your gaze gets caught on the shine of his skin, the shine that same one you admired as he bounced and dominated the stage, end to end, taking the centre to bask in another moment of being the main attraction.

When you finally met his eyes, he grinned.

“You like lookin’ up at me, hah? Wanna show me how pretty you look?”

It was obvious to both of you that you shared the same desire. He could sniff it out, trained in the scent of a woman that craved his bones. He knew it well, and you… you reeked of it. It wasn’t desperation, but a confidence that you knew what you wanted and you wouldn’t shy away from him now he had you alone.

And him. He wanted to bathe in your attention while you lapped up anything he gave you.

Of course he did. How easy it was for his ego to be stroked when he was under the heat of the spotlight, listening to screams and swoons he caused. And it went straight to his head — the one between his legs.

Reacting to the dare in his eyes, you weren’t going to back down now, but you would be more than willing to bow down. As he slouched on the shiny red leather loveseat, you sunk to your knees at his feet. Tentatively, under his watchful stare, you reached for his belt, waiting for him to rip away the offer, waiting to become the punchline to a joke you weren’t in on.

It was too good to be true.

You weren’t shy, far from it, but anyone could be prone to performance anxiety. Anyone but Katsuki, it seemed. By the time you had popped his zipper open it revealed that the bulge of leather was all him, no excess material.

“How long have you been like this?” You took his cock into your hand, stroking it softly once, twice, biting your lip.

“Whole fuckin’ show, doll.”

“No wonder you couldn’t stop from humping the air. Trying to get some friction?”

“Gettin’ some now, ain’t I?” His eyebrows quirked, low-lidded eyes drinking in the sight of you. That tight leather mini skirt taut over your thighs and tasteful amount of cleavage. “Didn’t have to try all that much, did I?”

You glared up at him, squeezing your hand tighter around him.

“Tch. Don’t act like you don’t want it.” His hand slid up under yours, replacing your hold with his own as he shifted his hips closer to the edge of the seat, tapping his length against your cheek. “C’mon. Open up f’me. Y’know you want to.”

“Can’t promise I won’t bite.”

You playfully snapped your teeth closed around the air where his cock occupied just a moment before he snatched it away from you, narrowly missing his pretty length, pink and thick and looking so edible as he held it in front of your face, just out of reach.

“I promise I do bite.”

It was your turn to smirk. Even if this was an act, an extension of his stage persona, he’s living up to your expectations, just as foul as you would have him be in your imagination when you’re touching yourself, listening to his filthy ad-libs and staring at the poster of his glistening, shirtless body pinned up on your wall.

“Well, if you promise.”

Salivating, you took his cock as he guided it back to your painted lips, opening up obediently. You hoped he would make good on his promise, but if this is all you’d get then you at least wanted to see him come undone. You wanted to see him lose his composure, groaning and grunting like he did on stage, but this time all for you — because of you.

Everything lit you on fire, a cycle of lust; the more he turned you on, the more you’re aroused, hyperaware of all the little things about him that had your pussy slick. His taste, his smell, the hiss from between his teeth as you slurped and swallowed him eagerly.

He had been sweating and at least half chubbed up for hours, kept in the tight trap of his trademark leathers — the reason why you chose to wear your own — that the relief of finally being stimulated, getting to relax against the soft of his worn and tired sofa, cushions remembering the shape of him, his head tilted back, he doesn’t even bother trying to restrain his pants and moans. One big hand cradled behind your head, he doesn’t let you leave him for a moment, and you don’t try to pull away.

Both of you wanted it, the desire contagious, feeding off each other’s carnal need. The more he responded to the heat of your mouth working him over, the more you were spurred on to work harder, to pull more sounds of pleasure from his lips.

You were dirty with it, pure filth as you spat and throated him. It drove him mad, how you wanted to give him what he wanted to take like you’re trying to carve out a space in his memory for you, so he’d think about you even after you left.

You didn’t know who you’d be compared to in his mind, but tonight it was all about you and what you could do, and you were depraved with it. Degrading yourself, you let him use you, let him suffocate you on his entire length, tears wetting your eyelashes as you looked up at him, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. The sight of you, the way you gave yourself, everything was too much for him to keep his cool.

“Fuck, doll. Where’d y’learn t’do that?”

You didn’t answer, humming coyly as sucked harder, revelling in the way his hips jerked, at the end of his tether. He performs sex appeal for a living, but he looked best at a loss, at your mercy without his bravado. Just for now, for your eyes only, for tonight.

He held you down, nose pressing into his damp, sweaty happy trail, abs glistening and tensing. It was a sight for sore eyes, one you were trying to burn into your brain for safe keeping, swallowing down around him as he came hard and vocal while you were in your element. In your happy place, satiating your wildest dream.

You only pulled away, breathless and messy, when his hand dropped limp from the base of your neck. Your eyes hadn’t lost their shine, that glint that he saw reflected back at him from the crowd that first drew his attention.

“So… are you gonna bite me now? You promised.”

#I won’t recover from this #I will NOT come back from it #fic recs #friend recs #author recs #not mine #Bakugou

[kingkatsuki]

getting your hair petted while eating them out

#yes pls #Bakugou #bakujo

[kingkatsuki]

This was such a kind response to something quite frankly rude.

“Fit your readers into a specific personality type to suit my preferences. And please make it long.”

I agree with everything you said, Lackie. And while I also hope OP meant no harm with the original post, I hope that they can see why it came across as extremely entitled.

I hate when yall write the same kind of personality for self insert fics.

I don’t want to keep seeing the same easily flustered, no backbone, cries a lot Y/N. Here are some versions that I think would work better for each character.

Sweetheart Y/N: Caretaker, blushy, scolds character for not taking care of themselves. Best for slice of life AU’s or as a quirkless character. [Midoriya, Hawks, Dabi, Toshinori, Aizawa]

Goofball Y/N: Silly, playfully sarcastic, best friend type, takes nothing seriously. [Bakugou, Shigaraki, Todoroki, Aizawa]

Bitchy/Bratty Y/N: Tackless, competitive, well meaning, emotionally constipated. [Kirishima, Iida, Midoriya, Bakugou, Sero]

Bestie/Sacrificial Y/N: Fun, overly understanding, forgiving, compassionate, competitive. Best for angst and/or character development. [Dabi, Shigaraki, Bakugou, Aizawa, Hawks.]

More variety please & thank you 🩵 also please make it long

#probably the stupidest post I’ll see on dash all day today #it’s always the people who never reblog fics or support authors that talk the loudest #I’m back to add more tags cause actually this pisses me off #writing is HARD!!!! it’s not like you can keyboard smash and expect a story to form it takes time and effort #nuance to help refine your craft #I can’t tell you the hours I’ve wasted trying to think of plot points or to think of transitions through pieces #the way I want my characters to act or to feel and how to convey that emotion through text #so for someone to say ‘make it long’ like the quality of your work or the effort you put into your characterisation is defined by the length #actually BLOWS my mind

[kingkatsuki]

But also cocky, confident men chasing after older women😫

[kingkatsuki]

Helloooo just a quick question, are you still continuing two weeks notice? Hope you’re doing well🤗

I literally posted one the other day

#jo talks

[kingkatsuki]

Me showering you with love for all your sweet words on Hollow Heart 😭💜✨thank you Jo!! Your commentary brings a smile to me every time 🥹💕

You’re so cute!! Thank you for sharing your writing with us!💕

#Jo talks

[kingkatsuki]

I guess I’ll see you all in the wormie afterlife😭

Attempted to ask my bf if he’d still love me if I was a worm— and this time he replied with “if you were a worm I’d feed you to a bird”😭

#genuinely hope he gets reincarnated as a worm

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about going out to a bar with all your girlfriends— and of course there’s a lot of hot guys hanging around, trying to chat you up and buy your table drinks.

But your eyes are focused on the old man sitting alone at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, neat.

And he’s shocked when out of every man that’s inside the bar right now, you’ve come to sit beside him.

[kingkatsuki]

denki + a cosmopolitan pretty pleaseeeeeee

LUKE MY LOVEEEE i hope u like it, i tried to lean more into the flirtiness but im unsure if it translated well lmao but i hope u like it nonetheless <3 birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

you weren’t exactly a regular at the local bar, you didn’t know every employee by name, but you’d been here enough to know you’d remember seeing him around. you’d have remembered the shock of yellow hair, glowing neon under black lights, the static electricity surrounding him, the flirty, cheshire smile planted on his pink lips. how hadn’t you seen him around before?

“cosmo? good choice.” he practically purrs at you, his hips like a magnet for your eyes when he twists around, reaching high on the shelves for the vodka, the twinkle in his golden eyes enough for you to know he caught you staring at the sliver of his abdomen exposed by his shirt lifting. averting your eyes from his, you look down to his hands, slender fingers topped with cracked black nail polish, a bracelet on one of his wrists.

watching him work was like foreplay, the way he cradled the shot glass, fingers curled around the bottle as he poured the shot of vodka, the confident smirk on his lips when he held the bottle higher and higher mid-pour, tipping the bottle back when your shot was perfect. if he wasn’t so attractive, you might’ve thought his flair was over the top, but watching him, you find it impossible to find every movement anything other than mesmerising.

adding ice, the measured shots, and the juice to the cocktail shaker, he leaned closer, his name tag flashing in the light, his name messily scrawled in capital letters across the plastic, denki <3.

finally, shaking the cup in one hand, he leans on his elbow, getting closer than he needs to get, his cologne overwhelming your senses, his proximity giving you no choice but to watch his lips instead of his hands, “so, you come here often?”

his voice is so, so, smooth, like a siren’s when you lean closer as well, his orbit impossible to escape, “‘cause i think i’d remember someone like you in here.”

as if testing the waters, his tongue darts from between his lips, dark golden eyes watching you track the muscle as it wet his lips. clearing your throat, you glance up at his eyes through your eyelashes, “this a new tactic for tips?”

your voice is light, flirty, bringing a grin to his lips when he steps back to finally pour your drink (you’d never known any bartender to take this long making a cosmo, maybe you’d order a more complex drink when you come up next, just so he doesn’t have to stall to keep you close), garnishing the glass with a fresh orange peel twist.

“maybe, maybe it’s just to get your number.” denki slides the drink towards you with a wink, the glass sat atop a cardboard coaster (blank, you note, free from any advertisements the others were plastered with), “on the house, gorgeous.”

you giggle at his joke, leaning nearly your entire upper body over the bar to hand him the free-drink token, closer again to drag your fingers over his shoulder, down to the pen tucked beneath his name tag. like this, you can see the lines of dark brown littered between the yellow of his eyes, the way his pupils dilate at your proximity, the affect you had on him.

scribbling your number down, you hold the coaster back out to him between two manicured fingers, holding your cosmo in your free one, biting your lip at the lovesick look in his eye, “i’ll see you around, denki.”

#no because why would Denki actually be the perfect bartender #literally cannot #I loved this!! #fic recs #friend recs #author recs #not mine #Denki

[kingkatsuki]

The groan old men make when they sit down is the same sound they make when they sink their cock into you and you will not convince me otherwise😫

 You’re absolutely right and it’s so erotic the way their jaw ticks, and their burly chest rises an falls with deep groans, their age evident in the jagged scars and softened muscle you can’t help but massage, only to shudder when you feel the strength that clenches beneath your palms.

 And at this point, when they have you rolling your hips and panting to take their cock, they don’t even try to hide how good your soft body feels on top of them. cause it does, feel so fuckin’ good they grip you a little too tightly, thick fingers digging in the fat of your soft hips, they show off their power and experience with timed, harsh bucks of their hips. Pressing deep, fucking you from below you welcome the pain all the same cause its so warm, only adding to the burn you feel in your thighs maintaining the rhythm they set bouncing you on their meaty cock.

 You only need to take it. to let your hair fall wild, mouth part, eyes shine. They can do the work. Age heightening their sensitivity with well-practiced precision they use to make you cry. Beg, moan for more. for harder and deeper they feel so so good beneath you, you cant imagine there ever was a moment you teased them about their performance in bed cause from the way your eyes roll an tummy flutters with every deep dig of their blunt tip in your pussy you feel like you’re about to collapse on top of them.

ahhh give me a vocal older man!!

give me an older man with facial hair and laugh lines on his cheeks . give me an older man with grey chest hair and broad shoulders who still wears loose tank tops cause everything else is too tight and slutty these days but their broad shoulders and softened tummy fill it out all too well they look down right erotic askskks i need an older man that answers in grunts and mhms but you understand him all the same, he's just a little low on energy before his morning coffee. give me an older man that knows what he likes and takes his time teaching you. giving you praises and gentle instructions to lick there, suck deeper, go slower atta girl, y'er so good fo'me

sick to my stomach for a big older maannnn!! ps if i start talking about big, greedy, loser Enji i willlll screech into the night!! or barely knows the soft touch of pussy and lowkey a virgin Toshi i will chew on my own glasses kskss

#I won’t survive this #YOU ONLY NEED TO TAKE IT #I’m gonna short circuit actually

[kingkatsuki]

He still enjoys laying back and having you ride him though. You look so pretty sat on top of him as he gets to watch your face contort in pleasure as you use him to get yourself off, “That’s it, sweetheart. You get yours—”

Don’t mind me, I’m just objectifying old men again.

#this wasn’t specifically about him #but also yes always

[kingkatsuki]

Don’t mind me, I’m just objectifying old men again.

#omg 😭😭😭

[kingkatsuki]

1K MILESTONE MOODBOARDS ??

i recently hit 1k & i really wanna make moodboards... so send me a character, a colour & vibes & i'll make you a selfship moodboard. give as many vibes as you want. feel free to lemme know ur race / culture / religion so that i can avoid making an inaccurate moodboard. your asks won't be posted unless ur on anon :))

below the cut is an example of a moodboard of me & sukuna <33

#CONGRATS!!!! #boost xxx

[kingkatsuki]

And maybe !!! He hasn’t had sex in years, not since he got divorced or his last “relationship” broke down. So he isn’t even sure he can perform anymore.

Practically running laps around him when you’re teasing him and goading him that he probably can’t get it up anymore, or he can’t last long. And he hates how much he delights in the feeling of you making him seem like a nasty old man, voice low as he’s like “you wanna say that again, sweetheart?”

But you’ve got him grunting and groaning when his back aches as he hovers over you, the extra bit of pudge in his tummy pressed on top of you as he’s unable to hold himself up the same way he used to— and you’re just looking up at him with pretty little hearts in your eyes.

Don’t mind me, I’m just objectifying old men again.

[kingkatsuki]

it’s a movie night in you and your fav’s home. what are you watching and what are you putting on your popcorn? sweet? savory? opting out of popcorn altogether? the floor is yours 🎤

#we’re watching anything on our shudder subscription #and if it’s ass we’re making out