beefybkg

[beefybkg]

I need a full fic right now😤😤

Fashion designer Bakugou who sees you at his favorite cafe one morning. Your clothes are comfortable and colorful, but they obscure the beauty of your body he tells himself. So he marches over to you, wearing all black and a skull tshirt with heavy combat boots. It doesn't help that he's also drop dead gorgeous, so when he hovers over you and breathes out. "Let me undress you." Your brain short circuits. "I can dress you much better, let me." He doesn't so much ask as he commands, so you find yourself nodding along, unsure why he's interested in you in the first place.

When you get back to his studio he's measuring your figure, his large hot hands skimming over your breasts, your hips, your waist. The more he discovers, your waist would fit perfectly in his hands, and your tits are begging him to taste, the more he struggles to keep professional. He just wanted to have you as a model, he swears to himself. But when he's measuring your ass, he starts to lose it.

"Who the fuck let you out of the house in those grandma clothes when your body is this fucking amazing?"

The words slip out of him in a huff, and you blush bright red. "I-I don't wear grandma clothes." You try to defend yourself, but looking around his studio at the slinky tight fit dresses with corsets and plunging necklines, you realize that yeah- maybe you do wear grandma clothes.

"Just wait until I design something for you, you're going to look even more beautiful. Especially as my date." He's never been nervous asking someone out before, but damnit your curves and sweet, shy personality were a combination he was loathe to let go.

"Your date?" You felt like you were struggling to breathe. The super hot designer wanted to go on a date with you? You knew you were bigger, its not like you're oblivious. But never once did he make you feel lesser for being fat, he just seemed upset that you tried to hide yourself.

"If you'll have me." His voice was suddenly softer, his red eyes gentle as he looks up at you from where he's on his knees, the measuring bunched in his fist.

"Yes." You breathe out, knowing this chance encounter would change your life.

[beefybkg]

i think katsuki just answers his phone by barking out, "bakugou." no hello, probably doesn't even look at the caller id LOL when he hears it's you, though, i think he breathes out the tension he didn't realize was coiled in his shoulders, and says a lil, "hey," 🥺🥺

and i think when he calls you, and you answer with your sweet, "helloooo ??" he is so soft 😌 just mumbles out a quiet, "what'chu doin'?" and listens as you tell him, before saying what he needed to 😌

[beefybkg]

HMMMMM bakugou being just. the absolute picture of sin.

he works overnight and comes home early in the morning, around 3 or 4 am or so, and you greet him and give him a kissy and ask how it all went. and even though it's still dark outside and he's been working for twelve hours—he's still coming off patrol, right ? so he's still got some energy left, and he eats something and takes a shower and winds down as you fall back to sleep.

and it's not until much later in the day that he wakes up, early afternoon, and you're kind of tiptoeing around so that he can get his much-needed rest. you slip into the closet of your bedroom for something and you think you're gonna get in and out without a sound, but his hearing is so attuned to just about anything and everything at this point.

so rough and raspy, he grunts out, "what're y'lookin' for?" and you whip around real fast and he's just—

half sitting up in bed, bare back leaning against the headboard. an arm behind his head, so that his bicep is tense and round and stone-solid. stretched like that, his obliques are more prominent, taut and rippling up the side of his ribcage. he must have gotten hot while passed out, as he usually does, because the comforter is all askew; one of his legs is bent, the fine hair a dark gold in the waning day; the other is hanging off the bed, lightly swinging as he watches you, and the blanket has come down enough that you can see the bulge of his thigh muscles beneath his stupid tiny black boxer briefs.

and he's just so. man. in every single way.

(his hair is flat on one side, too, and his eyes are still a little puffy from sleep—but you think that adds to it, all in all)

[beefybkg]

mafia boss bakugou 🩸

#tatted Kats is the best thing to ever happen to me

[beefybkg]

Oh…. Well, it’s over for Crunchyroll I guess

[beefybkg]

Gilded Cage

A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!

Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes

************

Keep reading

[beefybkg]

Hiii just thinking about Bakugo x reader where reader’s in danger from a villain attack and Bakugo saves her heheh. And then the media’s eating it up like 😭😭

this is such a cute idea!! ✨

Accidental Damage

『♡』  pro-hero support fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | secret bf/gf ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: you've been swamped with work as a pro-hero support engineer, pushing 80 hour weeks over the busy season, and finally have a day off! bakugo, however, isn't so lucky and ends up getting called in for an emergency patrol during your movie date. instead of sitting at home, you decide to treat yourself and head out into the city. turns out, you probably should have stayed home...considering the fashion district you frequently visit was the villain-of-the-week's choice of attack. tags & warnings: mild violence, anxiety, cursing | lovers (bf/gf), fluff, emotional comfort, physical hurt, protective bakugo, reader doesn't have a quirk, reader's a badass, accidental pda, oops the secret's out now, bakugo treats reader like a princess a/n: wanted to change up the dynamic a little and make reader & bakugo secretly date from opposing sides of the hero world! i'd love to see more of the support class tbh ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,890 ꒱

It’s your day off! After working endless hours for the past month, you’re finally free of the frenzy of Support Request busy season. Spring is often the time that most heroes submit their upgrade and repair requests to their agency’s support team, resulting in a non-stop effort to get through everything in a timely manner. The agency doesn’t want to be responsible for a hero not being able to perform their patrol duties from malfunctioning hero attire.

The original plan of the day was to spend it in your apartment, watching movies with your bombastic hero of a boyfriend - Dynamight. Unfortunately, just like 9 out of 10 other times, he was called out on an emergency shift to cover for someone else.

Being the girlfriend of the number 6 hero wasn’t easy, especially because no one knew you two were even together.

The two of you attended UA High together in separate classes - Class A and Class H. You knew of one another, but never had a chance to talk outside of the occasional ‘hey.’ After graduating from UA, the two of you happen to be hired to the same agency in Tokyo as you were assigned to his support team. A few late night dinners, long phone calls, and plenty of flirty banter later, you started quietly dating the explosive hero. It’s been about two years and you’re happy as can be - secret or not. It wasn’t for any purpose other than to keep the media out of Bakugo’s personal life and focused on his hero career as it was common for the public to become judgmental and fans to get…protective, to say the least. The last thing you wanted to do was to risk his ranking or public image for the sake of labeling him as "taken."

───

"Oh god fuckin' dammit," Bakugo cursed as his phone rang on loop, vibrating to the edge of the coffee table. Removing his arm from your waist, he frustratingly snatched it from the table before the final ring. You caught a glimpse of the caller ID before he answered and left the couch.

AGENCY EMERGENCY LINE

Aww...we just started the movie, you thought, disappointed in the timing.

It was unavoidable, though, considering he was in the top 10 of the pro hero circuit in a record amount of time after graduating from UA. He was damn good at his job and worked his ass off to get where he is today. You're so proud of him and all he's accomplished, but that doesn't mean that you hate how often they pull him back into work on his days off. He hates it just as much as you do.

You overhear a bit of the conversation as he moved to the hallway to take the call.

"Dynamight, we need to you to assist..."

"Spare me the damn formalities and just tell me where the hell you're sending me."

"It's downtown, sector 24, you'll be going along side..."

That's all you heard before he was out of earshot.

You never held it against Bakugo whenever this would happen, it wasn't his fault at all, he had a job to do and he was needed - that's all it was.

He returned from the hallway, a scowl on his face as he plopped onto the cushion next to you. You already know what he's about to say.

"I'm sorry sweets, I gotta go back to work." He leans over and plants a soft kiss on your cheek. "What a fuckin' week. Been lookin' forward to finally sitting at home."

You frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. "It's okay, the world needs the great Dynamight."

Bakugo groans in defeat, leaving the couch to run for the door. He's about to put his shoes on and grab his keys before he pauses, dropping his boots in the entryway and skipping back over to the couch. He bends over the arm and sits awkwardly on it as he grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He places a kiss to your lips and it leaves you breathless, like always.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he purrs, finger brushing along the top of your cheek.

“Love you too, Kats,” you respond quietly as his hand leaves your cheek. “Be safe, text me when you head home.”

He grabs his keys and wallet from the entryway, shuffling through it and placing his credit card back onto the table.

"Leavin' my card for you to take, baby. Go buy somethin' pretty for yourself."

And just like that, he's out the door and on his way back to the agency for the fifth time this week.

───

Bakugo had a habit of not letting you pay for almost anything, no matter how much you protested against him - it was one of his ways of showing his love for you. He would often scold you for having somewhat of an overspending problem, but your motto was always “money comes back!” He’d roll his eyes and hand you his credit card, preferring to spoil you instead of letting you drag yourself into debt. You learned to stop refusing his offer to pay for things a few months into your relationship, knowing full well he'd never back down after he'd steal your card out of your hands or swap it for his when you weren't looking.

Might as well take him up on his offer and go shopping!

Strolling down one of the main streets of the fashion district, you pop into one of your favorite clothing boutiques to browse around. It's busy for a Sunday afternoon, but the crowds don't bother you. Whenever you came here, Bakugo would often wait a street or two over to avoid said crowds. He hated them, but never wanted to leave you alone, so he'd tag along in ways that made him comfortable.

You're flipping through a sales rack outside of the store when a sudden rumbling in the street catches your attention. An earthquake, maybe? A couple of people around you notice as well and stop what they’re doing to focus on the vibrations. A moment later, the street becomes riddled with panic as the entire crowd is rushing in the opposite direction.

Of course a villain would show up to ruin your shopping trip.

You always make sure for these type of scenarios that you keep a spare gadget in your bag for protection. Bakugo wasn’t satisfied with you carrying just a normal self defense weapon, so he helped (more so forced you to) craft a device that would allow you to “save your own quirk-less ass” if push came to shove. He knew how talented you were and dedicated to your craft, always thinking up new gadgets and drawing plans off the clock. He wanted to encourage you to create your own genius contraption rather than solely making things for the heroes around you.

Digging through your bag, you grab onto the make-shift object that resembles a pair of bracelets. You slip them on and push the buttons on the underside of each bangle - activating the mechanism inside. They cover your hands in a binding of metals that resemble armored gloves and crawl up your forearms and end at your elbows.

Time to see what these babies can do!

You laugh to yourself at the thought of calling your creations "babies." It fondly reminds you of Hatsume and how she would be ecstatic over her piles of support items she's constructed, constantly flailing around the support classroom with glee.

Your attention is roughly brought back to the villain landing a few stores away from you as a giant gust of wind forces remaining civilians out of his way. He's sporting a jetpack-like bag on his back, motorized arms poking out of it like a spider. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, immediately curious about your support gear.

"Oh? What do we have here?" He questions, gesturing in your direction. "Those look too high and mighty for a girl your size. Are you even a hero?"

You know he's trying to antagonize you and get under your skin, and unfortunately, it works. But if you can keep him distracted until a hero shows, he'll do less damage to the area and you can prevent unnecessary causalities.

"Who needs a hero when a 'normie' like me can kick your ass with my bare fists?" you instigate, praying that'll convince him to shift his full attention to you. It does, aggressively launching himself in your direction with his...spider legs?...and lands in front of you, bending over to level his eyes with yours.

"Those are some brave words for a bug like you."

You take a deep breath, steadying your stance before landing a swift right hook to his jaw, sending him soaring into the street. Your gloves make a soft hiss as they release the energy stored inside them.

Yes! God, that felt good. Is this how Kat feels?!

The villain clamors to his feet, seething with rage as he readjusts his set of translucent goggles.

"You little bitch!"

You brace yourself for impact by crossing the gloves in front of you, summoning a temporary energetic barrier to guard against his attack. The force sends you stumbling backwards, falling straight on your ass as you roll out of the way of a robot leg slamming down next to you.

Just keep moving, don't stop moving, remember what Kat taught you!

You're extremely thankful in this moment that Bakugo practically forced you to train with him. He was adamant on you having basic fighting ability - hand to hand combat, some karate, self-defense moves, and more importantly, staying in shape to outrun any villains. He didn't think you were incapable of handling yourself, he just wanted you to be able to kick some ass while doing it.

As you're zigzagging the villain, dozens of cameramen and reporters are flooding the scene, desperate to get the 'first look' on the details of the commotion. Your tunnel vision on the current threat in front of you keeps you busy, not noticing the massive media crowd forming around you on both ends of the street.

The villain jumps up, catching you off guard as he lands behind you, smacking you in the back with a robot arm with a loud thwap that sends you careening into a clothing rack on the street. A collective gasp is heard from the peanut gallery, clamoring over your safety for 'views.'

You may or may not have hit your head - unsure if you're dizzy from the fall or a potential concussion. Shaking yourself out of the haze, you scramble away from a follow-up attack from one of his mechanized tendrils.

"Aw, are you backing away from the fight you started?!" He taunts, arrogantly laughing at your defensive maneuvers.

In the distance, you begin to hear soft booms echo through the air, steadily growing in volume. You knew exactly who was rushing to the scene.

Oh buddy, now you're fucked.

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your lips, anticipating your hero boyfriend to show up and blow this guy into the pavement. In the interim, you have one final trick up your sleeve - literally - to give this guy a pre-beatdown of your own.

"Nah, just wearing you down so I can knock your ass out!" you boast, channeling your best "hero" speech.

With a few taps of your fingers on the metal gripping your forearms, the gloves begin to channel energy into the palms of your hands, lighting up with blue sparks as it charged. You needed an extra 15 seconds before they were ready to burst. The villain notices, swiping at your feet to knock you down before you can properly dodge. The breath is knocked from your lungs and leaves you gasping for air.

Boom, boom...boom!

You can tell Bakugo's almost here as the explosions get louder with each burst.

Just 5 more seconds...

"Yo, spider-freak!" Bakugo roars from atop a nearby building. "We can do this th' easy way or hard way. Your choice, jackass!"

He hasn't noticed you yet as your gloves begin to beep, signaling the charge is ready for use.

Perfect timing.

Getting to your feet is more of a struggle than anticipated as you're still recovering from the previous strike. Wobbling on jelly legs, you plant your feet solidly on the pavement to the best of your ability, bring your hands up in front of you and aim your palms at the villain. Your loud cackle catches Bakugo’s attention, sending a panic coursing through his veins as he finally sees you - shaking like a leaf with a grin on your face.

What the fuck is she doing?!

His train of thought is interrupted by your gloves firing off a massive burst of energy, hitting the villain square in the chest and slamming him into the ground, shattering his robotic accessories in the process.

Holy shit, those fuckers work after all.

Bakugo can't help but snort at your ballsy attempt to hold down the villain, feeling simultaneously proud and scared shitless that you'd put yourself in the middle of harms way for strangers - just like himself. He's blasting off the building and down to the street to wrap up what's left of this D-lister villain.

The blowback from the gloves, however, is way harder to handle than anticipated. As the gloves emit vapor and a sharp hissing noise, you're sent teetering backward, tumbling across the street until your body skids to a halt.

───

Everything fucking hurts.

But holy shit, that was exhilarating.

There's sirens in the distance while you lay there, signaling that they're more than likely surrounding the asshole and taking him into custody. You groan and grumble while sitting up, propping yourself up on your elbows as a loud thud lands at your feet.

You know the sound of those boots anywhere.

"Dynamight?" you feign, pretending to be distressed after the fight. "Oh, you showed up at the perfect -,"

He cuts you off with a sharp quip, his voice gruff with a playful tone. "Shut the fuck up."

Bakugo crouches down as he's grabbing your wrists and hoisting you up onto your feet. He holds onto you for a moment while you get your bearings, wobbling like a baby deer. Once you're steady, he pulls you flush to his body and cups your chin in his gloved hand. Before you can protest his movements, he swoops down and your lips meet.

He's kissing you.

In the middle of the street.

In front of every single press company in the city.

In public.

You squeak against his lips, putting your hands on his chest to create space between the two of you as you pull away. He's perplexed at your hesitation until the realization whips him back to reality.

"Fuck!" Bakugo snarled, a pink blush creeping up the back of his neck. He was too caught up in the moment with adoration over your bravery that he...forgot he was on duty.

Cameras and reporters are rushing over, shouting a million different questions at the two of you.

"Miss! Are you a hero, too? What's your name?"

"Are you Dynamight's side-kick?"

"Dynamight, you saved the city once again! Who is this young lady in relation to you?"

"Are you worried this will affect your reputation with your supporters?"

"God, the agency is gonna fuckin' hate me for this," he growls.

Oh no. You just inadvertently tainted his reputation. He might get demoted...if only you had just stayed home today.

Bakugo turns toward the thousands of camera flashes and video cameras, arm slung around your shoulder.

"This is y/n, she's a support engineer from my agency and saved your asses today," he says confidently. "And she's my girlfriend, so don't get any wrong ideas about it."

What?!

The mob of media personnel begin speaking all at once to Bakugo again, shouting question after question.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Is she in training to be a hero, too?"

"That device was impressive! How did you manufacture it?"

"Do you have a quirk?"

You're standing there, dumbfounded that Bakugo just openly admitted to your relationship on live TV and to news reporters. You can't help but flush red over the barrage of questions, not used to this kind of interrogation in your line of support work.

He sighs, shaking his head as he removes his arm from your shoulder and moving to hold your hand.

"Quit it the questions, we're leaving."

With that, he parts through the crowd with you following behind, crossing over to the other street before letting go of your hand.

"Katsuki...are you sure you’re okay with this?" you ask timidly, aware that you can't take back what he said.

"Idiot, I don't lie about things like that. Now I get to show off my perfect princess."

You say nothing in return, just quietly squeal and do a little happy dance.

Perfect princess.

"Let's get your stubborn ass to the medical team, you look like shit," he teases, poking you in the forehead. "And we should probably tone back the output on those gauntlets, that coulda killed somebody - or you."

You hum in acknowledgement and follow him down the street, heading back to the agency together.

think of the gloves as, like, ironman suit type gear? how you can just pop them on and use them as enhanced fighting gear. hehe, a cute little panic fluff is always fun. thanks much again to @queenpiranhadon for the prompt!! 💜

Divider by : @/saradika

[beefybkg]

He's alive and happy in our hearts 💕

[beefybkg]

even though he’s an insane clean freak, i like to think bakugou loves to fuck nasty.

eats your ass every chance he gets and fucks your throat until you’re so sloppy that drool is dripping down your chin. pounds your pussy until you’re both covered in sweat and his pubes are glistening with your arousal. kisses you so messily that your lip gloss makes your mouths completely sticky each time they connect. that kind of thing.

he showers for an eternity when you’re finished though.

[beefybkg]

Why am I suddenly so into hockey

A rambling that adds more detail to this post about hockey players Izuku and Katsuki.

It doesn't help that you're the coach's pretty little daughter of one of the best hockey teams. At every home game and nearly every away game, you're there behind the plexiglass, insisting you buy your own tickets even when your dad can get you in for free. But occasionally you'll take his offer of a free game although it usually comes with the stipulation of being shoved into one of the manager's polo's, given a clipboard, and since this happened to be an away game you'd be forced to sit on the rowdy bus for the three hour drive.

But you really wanted to watch the championship and your paycheck came in too late when the rival match finals were FINALLY announced, it didn't help that the tickets were sold out in seconds!

So you'll stand by Daddy dearest trying to look important just behind the bench inside the cramped box the team will sit in while they wait to come on and off the ice. The team of course had to arrive early and since this was an away game, you had to look every bit the part of staff as everyone else. Which meant you too had to be in the locker room while the men stripped themselves with ease. Snarling and shoving playfully in the pre game excitement, arguing over who moved who's helmet and “where the fuck are we gonna eat after we win tonight?!”

Some of them speaking lewdly off their latest piece of ass and how Bakugou “had her barkin like a bitch in heat.” Before a chorus of laughs is shared sided from a hissed “Kacchan!” followed by a rough shove into metal lockers.

It isn't until they're all pulling on their jerseys on does your dad clear his throat. Giving the speech of the century but it half falls on deaf ears. Your cheeks burn as you feel every eye on you as if they only just now realized you'd been there the whole time but two men in partial catch your eye.

Izuku, beat red under his freckles, brows furrowed as if he's embarrassed he had such a dirty mouth in front of a lady. Embarrassed of the ‘locker room talk’ and how your tight pair of jeans has his cock twitching at the thought of you barking like a bitch in heat. His gloved hand comes to grip at the nape of his neck but it does little to quell the drunken gaze he gives you, his heated cheeks morphing into pure lust. Emerald eyes slipping around the room and when he sees Todoroki staring too intently at you his glare becomes deadly. Shouto looks away and then Izuku finds another poor soul to glare at, already possessive over something that wasn't even his.

The other being a toxic bromine, smiling wolfishly palming himself roughly as he keeps eye contact with you. Strong grip with his other hand on his hockey stick as he daydreams about you. He wants you in doggy first then missionary because you're so fuckin pretty and he's dying to know what you look like when you cum. Especially when you're creaming on his cock. He's dreamt about you before, he's fucked his fist to you before and he sure as hell has knocked some asshole’s teeth out over you before. It didn't matter if it was his own teammates or the opposing team with the exception that Izuku was allowed to make an occasional comment but no more than three before the childhood rivals would be at each other's throats.

Their gaze are always a little unnerving with their intensity, almost predatory and yet it never makes you feel uncomfortable. They'd proven before that they'd protect you when push came to shove, they did four seasons ago when you first moved to the city and before anyone on the team even knew the coach had kids, let alone a daughter. The bar was crowded, it was a rival team against some other team the city happened to give less of a shit about. The players were on an off day enjoying their few hours off the ice and of course the rough men chose a bar where they could watch a fucking hockey game and shoot shit.

You'd finally found a table with a decent view of one of the many TVs and the bar so you could easily get up and get yourself a drink. But your new male coworker offered to bully his way through the players for you, ending up at the end of the bar by a bulky curly haired man and loud ass ash blonde. Getting caught up in the game and taking your eyes off your coworker but only for a moment.

“Are you trying to spike her drink?” A thick scarred hand is over one of the glasses on the bar top, your coworker flushed red.

“Huh?”

“Ya fuckin dumb?” The ash blonde reaches over the curly haired man, yanking your coworker’s tie harshly, effectively smashing the man's face into the polished wood.

“He said were ya tryin to date rape that pretty woman over there?” The blonde cocks his head in your direction, a group of eight eyes turn to look over their shoulder and then back at your shitty coworker. Who stammers, tried to get himself out of the lie before the sweetest, deadliest voice comes from the freckled sunshine boy of the team.

“Smile.” But there's nothing but malice in his eyes as he snaps the photo, immediately texting it to every bar owner he knows. (Half the city!) Your coworker fled and they offered up a seat at the bar for you but you politely declined after that they periodically glanced back to see if you left yet and if you were still okay.

So it wasn't like the only thing they wanted was to get their dick wet right?

Bedsides what probably made you super hot to them was the fact that you were the coach’s daughter, aka off limits.

Sighing as you watch them skate around the rink gracefully despite their size, Izuku and Katsuki passing to one another before taking shots at Kirishima in his full gear as they all warm up. Soon the stadium will be packed with throngs of people pressing into the glass behind you. Most of them rival fans banging on the plexi in hopes to distract or rile up the team, not realizing you'd be distraction enough.

Because all night a pair of emerald and bromine eyes will be glued to you. One giving his killer smile and the other smirking as he delivers a deadly wink.

[beefybkg]

suguru is the type to answer the phone while he’s fucking you.

ugh the man he is, while he’s deep inside you and he gets a call and he’s contemplating on answering but does it anyways.

this doesn’t happen all the time but it happens most of the time, he’s a busy man who has a lot of people who rely on him.

you’ve gotten used to it but your eyes will still go big when you see him reaching for his as he’s mid stroke.

your walls clenching up from anxiety but all he’s does is smirk and presses the accept button quickly covering your mouth.

muffled moans will come out and he’ll shoot you a glare as he pushes into you even harder as the distant voices from the phone come out.

“hello?… yeah of course i’m not busy… just chilling out.” you feel so good that he himself can’t even keep his moans down but he’s gotten better over time.

especially with how you clench around him when you hear how nonchalantly he’s talking to the other person on the side.

suguru even thinks your pussy feels better when you’re on the phone, the way you clench around him and make those wide eyes turns him on so much.

he’ll lean down and lower his phone down so he can be at a distance to where the other person can’t hear and say…

“you’re being such a good girl, just keep being quiet.” praising you for lying under him as he pushes all his length inside of you, quiet curses slipping out of his mouth.

the other person will question what he said and he’ll just laugh and shoot you a wink as he smirks before deepening his strokes.

“huh? oh nothing nothing i pushed into something too hard.” sometimes you’ll laugh but the other times you’ll be crying under his hand because of how good it feels.

the way he purposely does things so you can let out a whimper loud enough so the other person can hear.

they’ll ask with a lot of concern coating their voice what was that and suguru will say every time…

“it’s just my dog… she’s being a bad girl.” then push into you quickly causing you to moan so loud there was no way the person wouldn’t notice.

it turns him on so much to answer calls in the middle of fucking, he actually encourages people to call him then flips you over and gets to work.

it’s like a kink, that keeps him going.

[beefybkg]

Okay wait this is giving me ideas 💡🤔🤔

Obsession Prompts

because I didn't find any when I was originally looking so...here:

"Do you know how long I've watched you? You're perfect."

"It doesn't matter what you think. You're mine. You always have been."

"Did you not like the gifts? I bought them off of your wish list."

"If they touch you, I'll kill them. It's that simple."

"Don't act like this means nothing to you! You're the same as me!"

"You need someone to take care of you."

"You really think they're going to keep me from you?"

"...what have you done?" "What I needed to. Now come. I'm taking you home."

"Try all you want, princess. You're not leaving."

"We belong together. Don't you see that? Don't you know how perfect we are?"

"Now you want mercy? After running from me? It's too late."

"I saved you. Don't you think you should be grateful?" "Grateful? For this?" "Everything I'm doing is to keep you safe!"

"Step away from the window. Come back to sleep. Don't make me have to come get you."

"It's not your fault, it's theirs. They're the ones trying to keep us apart. You see that, right?"

"We're meant to be. You'll see."

"Sooner or later, you'll understand. I had to do this. This is for your own good, okay? Let me take care of you."

"Let me in! Trust me, sweetheart, it'll be easier if you do. Don't run from me. You won't like what happens when I catch you."

"This was the last time, okay? I got you. I'm here. I'm not leaving anymore."

"Nothing can keep us apart. I'll burn the world down if they try."

[beefybkg]

[beefybkg]

Fractalize (part 1)

Title: Fractalize

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.

Word count: 3700+

Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.

It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.

A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.

Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.

It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.

Imagine. Remake. Slip.

You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.

Remake, slip.

You have new vocabulary now.

"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.

"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".

"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.

"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.

"If you say so" - for everything else.

You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.

Yes this and no that.

Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.

Wasn't worth it.

***

"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.

It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.

You pull the blanket higher. "I do."

He knows it.

The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.

"What kind?"

Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.

Or-

You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.

She probably thought you abandoned her.

"Cats."

Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.

"We can get one, if you'd like."

"No."

Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.

"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.

The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.

She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.

Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."

A chair creaks. "Why?"

You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.

"Don't need it."

"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.

"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.

Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.

"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"

Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.

"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."

His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"

"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.

There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.

"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.

"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.

He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.

Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.

"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.

"On what?"

"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."

You don't respond.

To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.

Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.

His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.

"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.

"It's early."

"Mm."

He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.

You watch him. Wait.

"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."

Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.

"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."

You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.

"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."

"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."

You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.

He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.

You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.

"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.

His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.

"I'm right then," you say.

"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."

There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.

"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."

You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,

"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."

***

The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.

Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.

Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.

You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.

A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.

It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.

You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.

"Dear."

You almost jump.

Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.

"Mm?"

"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."

You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.

"Was just thinking."

"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.

For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.

Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.

He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."

His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.

"What was on your mind then?"

Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.

"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."

If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.

"Tell me."

You hate when he does that.

"It was boring."

"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."

Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.

If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.

It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.

"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."

Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.

"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."

There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.

"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, I got sad."

Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.

"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."

"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.

It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.

"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."

You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.

"Mm," you say.

Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.

[beefybkg]

TW: yandere, dubcon themes, size difference

He's considered training you to take care of his morning wood, but the mere thought of waking up to you sucking him off is a good enough dream for him to settle for simply grinding against your ass instead.

You wake up with the warm feeling of his massive hand spread across your chest, a nipple caught between his rough fingers, while his other holds you at the hip, keeping your smaller body snug against him while he humps your rear in soft lolls.

The silk babydoll he put you in the night before is glassy against his chest and feels effortlessly smooth against the bulge in his boxers as he rubs the tent between your asscheeks, groaning at the feel while his cock perks up into a bigger and heavier beast within the confines.

Soon, it becomes painful to keep himself inside, and he lets out a hiss against your ear, slowly and carefully pulling the ill erection out. Blushed an angry red at the mushroomed tip. His veins feel stiff as iron beneath his fingers as he rubs over them carefully. Thick and sturdy, just like actual wood where you feel him bob against your spine - so big you need to swallow thinking about it, feeling yourself grow hotter while something needy awakens between your legs.

You don't want to ask for it because each time you ask for it, you end up taking his load in your mouth while he leaves for work without barely touching you at all. So instead, you pretend you're still sleepy, feeling him pull your nightie up over your hips, suppressing a gasp when his hot meat slaps your bare ass and starts fucking the crack.

His arm weighs down heavily on your waist as he sneaks around to touch between your thighs, giving a chuckle at what he feels.

"Mmh- what's this?" He groans in a groggy mutter, dark and gravely, the words breathed hotly against your neck, making your stomach spur. "Y'dreaming of taking my cock- hm?"

Lifting your thigh, he moves his shaft between them, rubbing it along your sex, fucking the sweet triangular space found there while his other hand moves from your chest to hold your throat. Groaning right at your ear, he rubs your pearl and makes you cum on him without yet entering right before he shoves inside you all the way up to his balls, spilling hot rope and thick hot rope inside your womb.

There's still an hour before he needs to get up, so he leaves himself inside your heat to keep warm. You're still fluttering from your orgasm, and choking from the sudden intrusion - somewhat prepared for it after an hour of dry-humping - but not entirely, feeling the sting as he settles deeper inside you, kneading your walls and making you bloat with a firm belly bulge. Cum leaking out the edges.

BNHA – Bakugou, Enji

JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Toji

AOT – Erwin, Zeke

[beefybkg]

Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere

Thinking about being childhood friends with Izuku, who’s always had a bit of a crush on you. 

You’ve always known, but you’ve never humored it. He’s your friend – anything else would just be awkward. If you had to put it in any other term, you’d say he felt more like a little brother.

You wish he’d allowed the two of you to grow apart – as normal people do.

There wasn’t really any reason for the two of you to stay friends after middle school. His quirk suddenly manifested, and he got into UA – became a pro-hero – and then the symbol of peace. And you were still… kind of just doing your thing – studying, working, struggling to pay rent – struggling to keep a date…

The two of you never had much in common anyway, and you never really knew what to talk about with him anymore – only knowing to ask him how his mother was. After all, you grew out of your otaku phase a long while ago – and otherwise, you felt out-educated in any and every conversation the two of you had with each other. You swear talking to him makes you feel like a toddler learning your first words – it’s humiliating, and you don’t understand how any of it’s remotely stimulating for him, either.

Still, he’ll text you when he has the time, asking if you’d like to meet up at a café – talk, catch up – and you, not wanting to be rude, always accept.

You’d gone wide-eyed the first time you’d met him after middle school. Jeez Louise – he’d had to have grown twice his size – jacked and scarred to no end. It only got worse over the years. Now, adults – he must be twice your size. Bigger even.

You blush now when he flirts with you. But not so much for the reasons he wants.

Honestly, it’s more uncomfortable than it’s flattering. It was Izuku, after all – Deku – no matter how little he resembled the crybaby from your childhood – he’d always be that same nerdy loser friend who’d chased after you ever since you first met.

He might have grown up, but his crush on you hadn’t.

His doe-eyed look of longing and adoration had always made you feel a little awkward – a little sorry for him. And now that he’s become a man, it’s only become even more… desperate… a little pathetic, actually…

Bedroom eyes that make you laugh nervously, pretending to brush it off as a joke but really wishing he’d just give it a rest already. Surely, as a pro-hero and public figure, he could get a date? One of the many screaming fangirls that pine for him everywhere he drags that awful golden cape he has on his shoulders. And if not any of them, then maybe a model. A movie-star even.

Why is he so hung up on you?

The funny thing is, you’d tried vying him of his crush by telling him about hook-up after hook-up, boyfriend after boyfriend – treating him like a girlfriend you could gossip with.

But it’s almost like he takes it as a challenge – talking and helping you through your relationships, giving his input and advice – just like a real friend would… only… always implementing something… something condescending, something suggestive, something saying you ought to be with him instead – he’d never treat you like that, he’d never do you wrong, you’d be taking good care of with him.

You’d made the mistake of saying you were struggling with a class at university – just to make conversation – just to talk about something trivial. But of course, he’d seen it as an opportunity – quick to offer his help, saying he’d taken that class as an extracurricular – just for a bit of fun, he’d said, light reading material he’d done on the side of his internship.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to tell him no.

Suppose it’s the possibility of being wrong – the guilt of thinking he has impure intentions when he’s supposedly the purest person in the world.

But you should have trusted your instincts.

“Please, Izuku-” You’d immediately restored to begging. Who wouldn’t? He’s a two-meter-tall monster of a man – jacked with muscles fatter than a bear.

Your phone’s been missing since you came back from the bathroom – your lips wet with his unwanted kisses – your neck sore from having his fist wrapped around it when you tried stopping him.

You’d only managed to break free after biting – blood salty in your mouth. You nearly vomited, choking on a mix of bile and fear.

Fuck – your legs are so weak, you might just buckle from the dread alone – feeling like a bunny snagged on fox teeth.

“You used to take me when we’d play wrestle... you remember?”

The comment is pulled out of nowhere.

He stalks you, a fond look on his face as though the two of you were reminiscing good old times. As though his eyes weren’t a nocturnal green like foxfire on the fen. As though he wasn’t radiating black whip – ready to snare you.

“Think you can take me now?”

You had your hands raised apprehensively – but the hopelessness took its toll and made your entire body shake on the spot.

Your only hope was to talk him out of it. If only you could think past the fear and string a sentence together that wasn’t along the lines of “Please-”

But something about that look on his face told you he wouldn’t listen to reason anymore. Not manic, not like a person who’d finally snapped – but controlled – resolute – and playful even. Nothing like you’d ever seen. Nothing you could understand.

“What’s wrong, hm?” He smiles, head tipped in that charming way that used to make you want to pinch his cheek. Now it just makes you sick to look at – swallowing thickly as you tack another step back away from it. “I’ll go easy – so don’t worry… I know it's not exactly a fair fight anymore…”

Your better judgment failed you – fight-or-flight kicked in, and you made a break for it. 

Budging into the couch on your way, it’s a messy scramble for the door – but you manage. Feeling feverish with dread and pumped full of adrenaline, you brush the cold handle with just your fingertips before something wraps around your midriff in a snug grip – pulling you back into the living room.

You’re lifted from the ground, kicking – now screaming – flailing in the air before you’re flipped on your back against the couch.

“Don’t be like that~” He murmurs. “Always so wishy-washy~” Voice in a low purr that makes you feel like coughing up your heart – squirming beneath him and his heavy hands as they paw your thighs beneath your skirt – manhandling you like nothing you’d ever imagine him to do.

Raking his fingers through the dough before squeezing your ass greedily – kneading his fat crotch against the thin fabric protecting your cunt. 

“Complaining about all your weak-dicked boyfriends as if begging me to come fuck you myself – yet such a flighty little slut when it comes down to it.” He sneers. “Let me help you out.”

One hand tugs your panties until they rip, whilst the other hand pulls up to grab your face – squeezing your cheeks to keep you still when forcing his kisses on you.

“After all… what are friends for?”

[beefybkg]

☆༉ — YUUJI ITADORI. isn’t it weird? how love never changes.

about. no matter what anyone says, yuuji itadori’s love for you is unwavering and he hopes that you’ll never see a reason to change. not for anyone, not even him. (1K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters are aged up to 20s and in college, weird gf and jock bf, yuuji is a jock and has obnoxious teammates, reader is an introvert and wears glasses, selfship coded i fear, fem!reader.

“itadori, don’t you think your girlfriend is a little.. weird?”

the pink haired jock blinks once, then frowns  as he tugs a fresh shirt over his head — practice with his soccer team had ran a little longer than anticipated and he didn’t feel like coming home to you, his girlfriend, in a stinky old shirt. 

yuuji’s not sure when the topic of locker room talk had switched onto him and his love life but he cares enough to bite — not about to let his teammates talk smack about his girl. “where’d you get that idea from?”

another teammate speaks up. “when she comes to your games, she wears your sweatshirts but doesn’t cheer for you at all.” 

“she’s just shy, nothing wrong with that.” yuuji counters.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,”  he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend. 

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you. 

that’s created the very person he loves today. 

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.” 

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change. 

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.” 

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.” 

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares. 

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes — pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?” 

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates  let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.” 

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!” 

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.” 

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely. 

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen. 

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold. 

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.