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macnevercries · 2 months

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SHINSOU x FEM!READER (x KAMINARI)

♫ ⏯︎ Materialism as a Means to an End - $uicideboy$

☆IT’S A PARTY! REQUEST EVENT | MASTERLIST

SHINSOU (BNHA) x FRAT PARTY [+EXHIBITIONISM]

REQUESTED BY ☆ @shin-kam-eve

LENGTH ☆ 4.3k

CONTAINS ☆ NSFW! College AU, drug mention (weed), heavy daddy kink, brat tamer daddy dom shinsou, d/s dynamics, lots of “brat” + one use of “little girl”, dubcon (weed + a hint of coercion), public sex, mostly consensual exhibitionism/voyuerism (reader is coaxed a bit), impact play, spanking as punishment, fingering, blowjob, light humiliation, light degradation, praise, partner sharing, threesome (technically), voyeur audience participation, descriptions of a game of smash bros that may be confusing idk it’s short tho, douchey frat boy antics that include a certain electric blonde ~

AN ☆ Happy Almost New Year everyone! This wasn’t what I had in mind for a NYE special, but that’s just kinda how it worked out. My next one will be the “official” NYE post, but uhhh it’ll be coming late lol. Anyways, in this I begin to explore a question that has always been on my mind: “what if the Upper Floor was a frat house?” LOL. I know you only requested Shinsou but I couldn’t help myself so… Eve come get your men!!!

"Gunnin’ and fuckin’, I murdered her pussy and her friend…”

“You’re being a brat.”

Shinsou says it gruffly, matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving the flashing screen in front of him as his fingers dance quickly over the controller. The other boys around the couch snicker at his statement, exchanging sly glances as they pass a bong between them.

You wriggle under your boyfriend’s arms where they’re resting on his knees and he sighs heavily, adjusting himself to allow you to slide into his lap. The tell-tale voice calls “Game!” from the tv speakers and Kaminari adds his own outburst of “Suck it!” right after. Shinsou shoots a hard look up at you.

“Look what you did.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, jutting your bottom lip out to give him your most coquettish pout. “Maybe now you can stop playing and we can actually go up to the party,” you say with a small, candy-coated voice.

There is a whole party raging just upstairs and you haven’t even gotten to enjoy it yet. All you’ve gotten to see since arriving at the frat house is this dingy basement, and you’ve been voicing your displeasure about it for the last twenty minutes.

Sure, there are people milling about (mostly Shinsou’s frat brothers drinking and chatting) and there’s a game of beer pong carrying on in the corner, but all the real fun is happening upstairs. As riveting as it is to watch a group of boys smoke an ungodly amount of weed and play game after game of Smash Bros, you hadn’t put on your cute little pleated skirt to just rot away in a stoner den all night.

“C’mon ‘Toshi, I wanna go dance.”

He softens a bit at your pouty expression, a sigh pushing out through his nose. The lavender of his irises are accented by the tinge of red that’s taken over the white, and his lids look even heavier than usual as he blinks up at you. He’s still so handsome, you think – maybe even more so now, that murky charm of his turned up to the max whenever he’s stoned.

Shinsou finally smiles, one corner of his mouth pulling up lazily. His arms wrap around you, a hand hooking under your leg and coaxing you to straddle him.

“Why don’t you come ask Daddy nicely then,” he says in that deep, rumbling voice of his, loud enough so the group around the tv can hear. The boys don’t even try to quiet their chuckles this time, and your face heats up at the sound. Shinsou smirks up at you, palms forming around your ass and squeezing lightly, and you swear you can feel the eyes watching your skirt ride up.

“P-please—“

“What’s that, baby? You gotta speak up.”

Your chin lowers to your chest, eyes averting to a $uicideboy$ poster on the wall by the beer pong table. Purple hair comes into your line of sight when Shinsou tilts his head to recapture your attention.

“Daddy’s waiting.”

More snorts of laughter. You know the flush on your face must be noticeable by now, even in the dim light. Hands fiddling with the hem of Shinsou’s t-shirt, you look back to him.

“Please, Daddy?”

He’s like a drowsy cheshire cat, mischief coating his features and spreading to his hands, which have found their way under your skirt to massage at your cheeks. “Y’know you’ve been kind of a brat since you got here,” he muses, voice thick and gravelly from all the smoke, “My boys are here smoking you out, showing you a good time and all you’ve done is whine. Where are your manners?”

You bite at your cheek, rolling the silver chain on his neck around in your fingers, suddenly interested in the way the little barbed wires glint in the light. He makes you feel so small when he talks to you like this – like something tiny and silly, a disobedient puppy in need of discipline. But it also makes you squirm, desperate for the coarse fabric of his jeans to press into you and soothe the growing ache between your legs.

Shinsou notices, and so do all of his friends.

He sucks his teeth at you, a condescending little tut that stabs at your stomach. “I can’t just give you what you want when you’re acting like a spoiled brat, now can I? So let’s do this,” you don’t notice the way he looks at his friends over your shoulder, the way his brows jump for a moment before his eyes turn back to you, “Since you made Daddy lose this match to Kami, you gotta play him next. If you win, we can do whatever you want. But if you lose, you gotta take your punishment.”

You glance to your right at Kaminari where he’s splayed out on the cushions. His hand rubs at his chest under his shirt, causing the fabric to bunch up and expose his lean stomach. A thin trail of blonde hair creeps down his abdomen, drawing your eyes from his belly button to where it disappears under the boxers that are peeking out from the top of his jeans. Your eyes snap up to his face, and he smiles knowingly at you, cat-like expression lit by the harsh light of the tv in front of him.

“Don’t be scared, cutie,” he gives you a playful wink, “I’ll go easy on ya.”

XXX

You end up turned around in Shinsou’s lap, a controller stuffed into your hands only after you’ve taken a heavy hit from the bong. (“Everyone plays better when they’re high,” Kaminari had said as he lit the bowl for you, “It loosens you up.”) Two embarrassing off-screen explosions later, and you’re down to your last stock. You’re not a complete novice, you’d gotten one kill in, but compared to Kaminari you’re like a fish out of water, flailing desperately against his expert movements.

All the while Shinsou sits pressed against your back, his rough hands wandering up and down your thighs. They slide under the edge of your skirt and move inward, dangerously close to your core, and squeeze, pushing a sharp breath into your lungs. Shinsou chuckles against your neck, “Better focus, baby girl.”

Even more boys have begun to gather around, but not a single one of them is watching the screen. They’re a pack of wolves, licking their chops and eyeing you hungrily, taking in every small sound Shinsou pulls from you, appreciating when his hands push your skirt up that much higher, eating up the way you wiggle and bounce and squeeze your thighs together the more he teases you.

And Kaminari’s grin as he racks up damage on your character is just as wolfish.

Fingers pressing clumsily at the plastic buttons, you do your best to evade Kaminari’s onslaught of attacks. The little Pikachu on screen is relentless in its assault, moving quicker than you’re able to register. A crack of lightning shoots down from the sky and hits your character, sending it flying through the air and off the edge of the screen. One final explosion and the yell of “Game!” signals your defeat.

You huff, swiveling to shoot a glare at the blonde, who just shrugs in response. “Oops, guess I’m just too good.”

Shinsou shifting behind you forces you to stand up, and he grips your hips, turning you around to face him. His expression is shadowy and serious, mouth pressed into a thin line. It’s a look you know well – one that commands. One that warns you to behave.

“You know what happens now, right?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrow at you. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His lips turn up into a small smile, eyes darkening with a sick satisfaction. Shinsou secretly enjoys it when you’re a brat, but only because he likes to correct you, likes watching the way your face falls and your eyes widen when you’re reminded of your place. Shinsou loves it when he has to make you behave.

And he’s especially going to love flexing his power over you right here, for everyone to see.

“Good,” his hands pull you forward, beginning to maneuver you over his lap, “get into position then.”

One knee on the couch, half bent over Shinsou’s lap, you falter. You know what it means to receive punishment from your boyfriend, this dynamic all too familiar, but you had never been punished in a room full of people.

“W-wait, ‘Toshi,” you squeak, bewildered, “right here?”

His jaw jumps slightly in irritation, but otherwise he remains stoic when he responds. “Where else? You want to be a brat right here, you can take your punishment right here.”

You’re swiftly pulled down into his lap, your hips angled over his legs, and he bars an arm over the back of your thighs to keep you from wiggling free. “‘Toshi–”

“Correct yourself now, brat.”

“Daddy,” you amend quickly, not wanting any further punishment, “We can’t do this right here, everyone — everyone will see and—“

A lavender eyebrow cocks up at you, amusement coloring Shinsou’s face. “You scared of everyone watching?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek nervously, you nod.

“You wanted to make a show of being a brat, but now you’re scared to put on a show everyone actually wants to see?” He jerks his chin up, gesturing out towards the room. “Look, they all want to watch.”

You realize now that your eyes have been glued to Shinsou, too embarrassed to lift your gaze to anyone else, not ready to face the judgment of it all. But, at Shinsou’s expectant look, you do. You turn and scan the crowd around you, and you’re met with grins that seem to glow in the dim light, eyes that leer down at you as though you aren’t fully human, but a toy on display.

It’s alarming, but it’s also exciting. And, as if to lull you into a sense of normalcy, the chatter continues around you, partygoers sipping at their drinks, music bumping through the walls and the plastic-y bounce of a ping-pong ball ringing out every so often. Everything is business as usual, the party is still going.

You just so happen to be the entertainment.

Feeling you relax a bit, Shinsou grins. He turns his face to the crowd, and his voice fills the basement.

“Who wants to see me spank this brat?!”

Jeers erupt around the room, beer cans and red cups crowding the air. A stray “show her who’s boss, Shinsou!” carries over the crowd, provoking more yells of approval and barks of laughter. It’s barbaric, the way the party has so crudely joined in, and yet your body instantly heats up from the attention.

It’s humiliating, and dehumanizing, and disgusting – and you’re sure a wet spot is currently forming on your panties because of it.

“See? They love this shit. Now, you want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

You peer back over your shoulder at Shinsou and hum an affirmative. He smiles, “Good. You’ll get thirty, one for each minute you’ve been here acting ungrateful. And I want you counting nice and loud, so all of us can hear.”

More laughs and jeers around you. You swallow dryly, settling into the couch finally with your arms folded underneath your face. Your ass is propped up over your boyfriend’s thighs, cute and round and begging to be reddened. Shinsou rubs and squeezes at the plushness, then finally flips your skirt up, and the room cheers.

You’re thankful now that you chose to wear a pair of panties with a bit more coverage, the lace of your boyshorts decorating your skin with dainty spirals and flowers. They don’t cover much for long though, as Shinsou slides them up high, wedging them into your cheeks to expose more of you. The fabric digs into your cunt and you gasp, biting down on your lower lip to suppress the moan that threatens to slip through.

His voice is like spiced honey when he leans in to ask quietly, “You ready, baby? Gonna behave?”

You nod, and then a hand is coming down, strong and deliberate on your soft skin.

Thwap.

“One.”

“Louder.” Thwap.

“Two!”

“Good girl.” Thwap.

“Th-Three!”

With each stinging pass of Shinsou’s hand, you squeak out a number – a sadistic game of call and response that soon has you unraveling. Your boyfriend is anything but gentle, raising his hand high above his head and bringing it down hard on your sweet, sensitive skin. A sick smile cracks his lips open just so, low eyes trained down on his target. He loves watching the skin turn pink and raised, outlines of long fingers slowly appearing on you like a sizzling brand.

Onlookers cheer him on, whooping and clapping, sometimes counting along with you. But you’re hyper-focused on the feel of Shinsou’s hands on you, the sharp pain followed by the dull ache of him rubbing and squeezing. Every time his hands linger, sliding down your thighs or pulling at your cheeks, your breath hitches in your throat. The ache of your ass is nothing compared to the one that pulses between your legs – you are hoping, praying that he dips his fingers just a bit lower.

By the time “fifteen” pushes from your throat, it’s hoarse and broken. Your lip wobbles, tears welling in your lashes, threatening to spill over and humiliate you even more. You try to bury your face into the cushions below, but Shinsou tuts at you, leaning over to grip your jaw between his fingers. Turning your face to the side, darkened amethyst looks you over, scrutinizing.

Your big doe eyes are swimming with tears, your cute face flushed, bottom lip quivering faintly – and, god, does that make Shinsou’s dick hard. Seeing you like this, misty-eyed and submissive, always makes his chest swell with pride, and his cock swell to life in his jeans.

He loves this part, when your mind has become so hazy, so overwhelmed with pain and desire and him, that it’s like a switch is flipped and you turn into something brainless and obedient – a pretty little doll for him to play with.

“Poor little thing,” he coos, deep voice oozing with faux sweetness, “can’t handle it, hm? Need someone to hold your hand?”

You sniffle a yes, and Shinsou’s eyes flit up, smirking when they meet a wide golden pair. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and come here, Kami.”

A cocky smile spreads across Kaminari’s face, masking the perverse curiosity that was there just moments ago. His hands come up in something overly nonchalant. “I mean, if the lady needs me.”

Sliding across the cracked leather of the couch, Kaminari settles himself under your top half, your head coming to rest in his lap. You turn your face, cheek pressing into his jeans, and blink up at him through heavy, tear-filled lashes. He thinks he’s never seen a face more adorable – never seen a face more perfect for rubbing his cock on.

Shinsou continues doling out your punishment, and Kaminari is eager to soothe you as you jerk and moan in his lap. His hand tucks your hair behind your ear, painted fingers gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. And his smooth voice calms you, pretty lips forming around sweet praises for you, “Doing so good, cutie. Such a good girl. That cute little ass can really take a beating, huh?”

Another harsh swat to your ass, and your brain is short-circuiting. Pain radiates from your cheeks, the heat generated from Shinsou’s smacks warming the skin until it’s burning. He smacks again, and again, and you whimper, fat tears escaping from your lash line and staining Kaminari’s lap below.

You don’t even realize you’ve stopped counting, or that Shinsou is addressing that fact, until pain shoots through your scalp, his hand tangling in your hair and jerking your head up.

“I said,” he hisses, annoyed with your insolence, “What number are you on, brat?”

“U-um…” you stammer, trying desperately to think through the fog of subspace.

Nails dig into the sensitive flesh of your ass. “If you can’t tell me,” Shinsou says slowly, evenly, “then you’ll start over from zero.”

Hazy eyes bounce around the crowd, silently begging for a reminder, for somebody to take pity on you and give you the answer. The only response you get are devilish grins and mean laughs, until somebody in the crowd throws out a random number and others begin to join in, a domino of “seven!”, “twelve!”, “fifty-six!” tumbling through the room.

Panic begins to set in, but your saving grace comes in the form of blonde locks tickling at your face, Kaminari leaning down to murmur to you, “you left off on twenty-one.”

“I l-left off on twenty-one, Daddy!”

Shinsou hums, loosening his hold and letting your head fall back onto Kaminari’s thigh.

“Don’t lose count again,” he warns, “and make sure we can all hear that dirty little mouth counting.”

After more winces, groans, and yelps, you finally come to the end. You practically scream the number “thirty!” when your boyfriend delivers the final blow, and the room erupts into applause. Shinsou rubs at your ass, pressing kisses to the welts, and Kaminari cards his fingers through your hair, singing praises your brain can’t register.

A million tiny fires dance across the flesh of your ass, the sting so intensely hot that it almost feels cold. Breathing shakily, you smile to yourself, mind swimming with something thick and syrupy.

Your pussy is also syrupy, and you’re reminded of that when Shinsou begins to run his fingers slowly over your clothed slit.

Your eyes roll back, ass arching up into the touch, now so drunk on submission that you’re not embarrassed by the wanton moan you let out into Kaminari’s lap. When the pressure increases, digits rubbing deliberately into your puffy clit, you bury your face further into his lap – and Kaminari thinks he might explode.

Shinsou is thoroughly enjoying watching you both lose it – you squirming and whining with your face pressed so close to his roommate’s dick, and Kaminari biting on his lower lip, cheeks flushing as he tries desperately not to hump into you.

“I think you deserve a little treat, baby,” he finally says, and you practically squeal in response, face appearing suddenly to meet his eyes over your shoulder.

“But,” he continues, “You need to thank Kami for being so helpful.”

You’re turning your head back, starting to thank the blonde, but Shinsou��s deep timbre cuts through your words.

“No, not with your voice – thank him with your mouth.”

“Ooh”s and “oh shit”s and “no fair”s bounce around the room, but the sound of Kaminari fumbling with his belt is much louder in your ears. Even louder is the sound of your own pleasure, a croaking moan leaving you when Shinsou finally pulls your panties down and slides his fingers through your honeyed folds.

Some bodies crowd around behind Shinsou, watching with hungry eyes as your pretty cunt drips and clenches. Others choose to settle in around your front, eager to see your pouty mouth filled with cock.

Kaminari finally pushes his jeans down his thighs, and his cock bounces up, hitting his clothed abdomen with a muted slap. It’s pretty – long and curved with a head red as a cherry sitting right on top of a milky shaft.

He runs his hand over it a couple times, squeezing hard until the tip is leaking down his hand, sticky precum coating his cock and making it shine. You can feel the heat of it as he strokes it in your face, can smell his heady musk, and it makes your tongue swipe over your lips in anticipation.

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” Kaminari says with a smile, “show me how thankful you are.”

You lower down and look up at him, eyes wide and curious as you flick your tongue out to kitten-lick at the head. You lick your lips, tasting his salty arousal, and snake your tongue back out to dance over him again.

Golden eyes haze over, lashes fluttering at your touch, hips bucking slightly when you finally wrap your lips around his aching cock. All of that saucy arrogance melts instantly into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, chewing on his lower lip to suppress his sounds, “you look so fuckin’ cute with my dick in your mouth.”

You hum in satisfaction and begin moving over him, and Kaminari throws his head back on a loud whine. He’s so sensitive, twitching and bucking as you suck up and down his length. His hands find your hair, gathering it up loosely into one of his palms, and he watches you, panting and moaning with each drag down his length, each hard suck on his tip.

And then Shinsou is pressing his fingers deep inside you, curling them in on themselves to prod at your sweet spot while the thumb on his other hand rubs into your puffy clit. You moan around Kaminari’s cock, face screwing up in pleasure. You pop him out of your mouth to rest your face on his thigh as you’re quickly worked up towards a much needed release.

Shinsou’s fingers suddenly pull out of you, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing, and you let out a whine that jumps up to a yelp when he brings his hand down on your still sensitive ass. “Don’t stop,” he commands, “If you cum before him, I’ll punish you all over again. Put that little brat mouth to work unless you want thirty more.”

Then Shinsou’s lips are twisting up into a devious smile, sharp eyes finding Kaminari’s. “And if you cum before her, you’ll be the one punished.”

Neither Shinsou nor Kaminari knows exactly what that will look like between them, but the thought makes the blood sear in their veins.

Kaminari’s eyes are wide with shock, locked on dark violet, until they’re rolling up into his head. Your hot mouth is back on him, working over him with renewed vigor, slurping and gagging around him like your life depends on it. His gaze is pulled back to you, watching your head bob up and down, your eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

Shinsou’s fingers return to your slick hole, plunging into you easily with a loud squelch. “Dirty little girl,” he chuckles, “you’re dripping all over. Sucking cock in the middle of a party make you this wet?” He digs his fingers hard into the spongey wall deep inside you, and you squeal in response.

Expert hands continue to work over your pussy. The pleasure builds and pushes wet moans from your throat that wrap beautifully around the cock filling out your mouth. Trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in your belly, you drop your head all the way down, forcing your throat open to accommodate Kaminari’s cock.

“Holy shit, fuck–” His head falls back on his shoulders, hips bucking involuntarily and shoving himself further into your throat. “H-ah, ohmygod, if you keep d-doing that–”

So you keep doing it, racing against your own impending orgasm, fighting to keep the tether inside you from snapping as you’re filled from both ends. You take Kaminari in your throat over and over again, gagging and sputtering until thick saliva is pooling at the base of his cock, coating his tight balls. He’s whining, babbling praises, hands clenching and unclenching in your hair – completely lost in the heaven of your mouth.

And then you bring a hand to his balls, massaging them in your palms, letting them slip in your grasp while you gurgle around him — and Kaminari can’t hold it. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna — haah — i-in your mouth—“

A strangled whine like a wounded animal comes from deep in his chest as he begins to pulse in your mouth. A strong hand pushes hard on the back of your head, Shinsou forcing you all the way down until your lips are pressed to the skin of Kaminari’s pelvis.

“Good fucking girl, now swallow every last drop,” Shinsou tells you, fingers still working in and out of you.

You can’t hear the room cheering over the blood rushing to your ears, and Kaminari’s high-pitched moans. His cock kicks and tenses in your mouth, unloading rope after rope of hot cum right down your throat, all while Shinsou holds you there firmly, giving you no choice but to swallow it all.

When you’re finally released, you shoot your head up with a gasp, desperate for air, but quickly melt back into Kaminari’s lap with your ass arched up high.

“That’s right, there you go, such a good little slut, taking everything I give you,” comes Shinsou’s voice behind you, accented by the slick sounds of your pussy as he fucks you on his long digits. “Now cum all over my fucking fingers.”

And you do. With everyone watching. You scream, and drool, and cream all over Shinsou’s fingers with a room full of frat boys hollering like animals celebrating a kill.

It’s the most vulgar, barbaric display — and it makes your legs shake harder, the waves of pleasure crashing even more violently through you. You fall apart completely, beautifully, for the whole room to enjoy. Like some sordid performance art for the most perverted of enthusiasts.

Once you’ve come down from your high, Shinsou perches you back on his lap, petting your hair and humming praises in your ear. He lets his brothers praise you too, enjoys the way you blush and bury your face in the crook of his neck when they say something especially crude. And when someone playfully asks when the next ‘show’ will be, he shoots a look over to the blonde slumped into the couch next to you.

“Well, this one needs to be dealt with.”

And everyone perks up, especially you. Shinsou notices, squeezing at your hips and bringing his lips to your ear to ask,

“You gonna help me deal with this brat?”

259 notes · View notes

macnevercries · 2 months

Text

HAWKS x FEM!READER

♫ ⏯︎ im so happy - EKKSTACY / ♫ ⏯︎ Sour Switchblade - Elita

☆IT’S A PARTY! REQUEST EVENT | MASTERLIST

HAWKS (BNHA) x BALL/BANQUET

REQUESTED BY ☆ @mushi42

LENGTH ☆ 7.6k

AN ☆ Starting with the notes this time to let you know that the ‘contains’ section will not include the dark cws in order to avoid spoilers! Instead, all cws about the dark content are in the tags. If you have any reservations about dark themes then please check them before reading! Other than that, feel free to go in blind. Anyways, I’ve been interested in the idea of Hawks as a Gatsby type character and this was the perfect opportunity to write that. I chose 2 different songs for this because there are 2 parts, with a shift in the narrative! Feel free to listen to the first one, then the second one when I include the new lyrics in the text. Went overboard with the length of this one again, but let’s ignore that. Anyways, hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

CONTAINS ☆ NSFW! Dark content (relevant cws for this are in the tags), Modern!AU, strangers to lovers, alcohol, dubcon, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, creampie, possessiveness, a taste of breeding kink, size kink a tiny bit if you squint, Hawks is a Gatsby-type character in a quirkless world!

↳ Crossposted to AO3 because of length!

“My heart’s made of gold, at least that’s what I’ve been told…”

“The man doesn’t actually have wings, does he?”

You pull your shawl tighter around your shoulders, silently cursing yourself for choosing only the thin strip of fabric and a measly pair of opera gloves as your shield against the cold night air. The raucous of partying spills out into the courtyard, extravagantly dressed bodies milling about in the grass and snapping photos in front of one of the many sports cars on display. You make quick strides in your heels as you hike up the expanse of driveway, struggling to keep up with your best friends — one who is ridiculously lanky, and the other who not only has the thighs of a bodybuilder but also chose to wear much more sensible shoes.

The mansion before you is massive, and gaudy — and, as if to emphasize the latter, a shimmering gold fountain stands before you, looming over you in all of its ostentatious glory. Perched atop a pedestal in the center of the cascading water is a marble statue of a naked man. Carved body on display and barely covered by a ripple of frozen fabric, one hand pushing through flowing, wavy locks while the other rests delicately on his muscular abdomen — he’s gorgeous. He’s a vision of Adonis, petrified in his perfection, and he’s peering down at you with white, blank eyes — oh, and sweeping out from his back, easily double the size of his marble form, are a pair of gigantic red wings.

“Girl, he might,” Tsunagu says as he smirks up at the statue, “that is the mystique of the great Hawks — nobody knows. Is he a mob boss? Or maybe a prince? Does he have wings? Is he even real? We may never know.” He says the last part with a flourish, looking over his shoulder at you with a dramatic flick of his blonde hair.

“Oh for fuck’s suck!” Rumi huffs, booming voice easily echoing through the courtyard and startling a group trying to take pictures by the fountain. “He’s not a fuckin’ god, he’s just some guy. Probably a tech billionaire or some shit. Everyone’s always so dramatic, talkin’ about him like he’s an otherworldly being.”

Rumi scowls up at the unmoving man, buff arms crossing over her chest. “Bet he’s like a Zuckerberg, a fuckin’ awkward alien nerd.”

“But that’s supposed to be him.” Tsunagu points up. The unfeeling marble would probably flinch away if it could, bitten by the coldness of your friend’s signature scrutiny.

“And who told you that?” You chime in, continuing your walk around the fountain and towards the entryway.

“That’s what everyone says. God, it’s like you guys are living under a rock.” Tsunagu rolls his eyes, falling in step with you. “Whatever, all I know is if that is him, I would like to see what’s under that little strip of cloth.”

‘Extravagant’ isn’t even a dramatic enough word to describe the scene before you. It’s as gaudy on the inside as it looks on the outside – all medically shiny floors, ornate detailing, and architecture that belongs in a movie about some ancient monarchy whose cruelty has been lost to romanticization. As if the mansion itself is not theatrical enough on its own, the place has been decked out in billowing fabrics and massive floral sculptures, colorful floodlights casting purples and blues on hanging vines and abstract crystalline structures. Performers stalk through the crowd on stilts, or dangle from silks that hang down from the ceiling. And, as if the attendees are also part of the entertainment, every person you pass is adorned with corsets and pearls, waistcoats and pocket watches, puffed up petticoats and even puffier hair. It’s a ball straight out of a psychedelic dreamland – as if Marie Antionette herself had said “let them eat cake” and then baked acid right into it.

You’re thankful that Tsunagu had insisted on helping you choose an outfit. (“If either of you look a mess, I won’t be seen with you,” he’d warned.) Admittedly, your look is a bit simple compared to others, but the gown is pretty, and Tsunagu had made sure you’d accessorized properly with a dainty tiara and bridal-style clutch. The person blinking back at you in the mirror had looked an awful lot like a Bridgerton extra, but it stirred something sweet in your chest. Who doesn’t enjoy feeling like a princess every once a while?

Rumi provides an answer to that question when she lets out a loud groan, digging her thumbs into the sides of her corset and hiking it up clumsily. “How did anyone ever wear this shit,” she grunts, “it’s oppressive is what it is.”

“What’s oppressive is those fucking Gymshark leggings you wear every day,” Tsunagu quips, grabbing two champagne flutes from a lengthy table and shoving one into Rumi’s hands.

Rumi throws her drink back, then reaches for another one. “Whatever, beanstalk. At least I’m not dressed like the Phantom of the fucking Opera.”

“It’s a ball, Ru, that’s how we’re supposed to dress. Plus, the Phantom wears black and this is clearly navy blue.”

You chuckle, bringing your own glass to your lips and sipping the champagne. Tiny bubbles dance against your nose, a crisp sweetness washing over your tongue. It’s possibly the best champagne you’ve ever tasted, and there are hundreds of glasses of it lining the endless surface. That alone must have cost a fortune.

All of this must have cost multiple fortunes – more money than you’ll ever see in your lifetime put on vulgar, wasteful display. It seems almost sadistic, flaunting such an exorbitant amount of money in the faces of so many. And yet, as far as you’ve heard, the host himself is never even present to drink up the awe and praise of his guests. Hawks, as they call him (probably because of the horrendous statue in the front), throws all of these parties, but not a single person has ever claimed to have a conversation with the man. Instead, they share rumors about him, speculations about who he is, where his money comes from, even what he looks like. When Tsunagu had told you about the party, it wasn’t the festivities or the theme that had fully piqued your interest, it was this swirling haze of mystery.

Hawks is an enigma, and you’re curious about that above all else.

You can’t help but keep an eye out for your great host as you mingle, eavesdropping on others’ conversations in the hopes of catching whispers about the man of the hour. As the night goes on you become increasingly disappointed – not by the party (it’s definitely the most immersive experience you’ve ever had), but by the looming reality that you might not ever have your questions about this Hawks character answered. Maybe he is a prince, or a gangster, or a demon lord with giant wings – or maybe he is just a sniveling tech billionaire.

You find yourself growing bored after a few hours, itching to get out of your dress and into a pair of sweats. You tell Tsunagu that you’re going to find a bathroom and then call yourself an Uber. He vows to pass your goodbye onto Rumi, who is busy doing upside-down shots from the massive ice luge in the yard with a crowd cheering her on.

Finding that the downstairs bathroom has a line snaking all the way into the dark of a long hallway, you suck your tongue against your teeth. You turn on your heel, making out to find one less crowded. Secretly you’re pleased, the inconvenience giving you an excuse to snoop just a bit.

Hand gliding along the smooth wood of the banister, you climb up the spiral staircase of the main hall. You wander the upper floor, touching hanging fabrics lightly and stopping to eye art as you go. The sounds of outdoor chatter trickle in through a slit of space down the hall – an open door at the end of the wing.

The door pushes open with a creak, revealing a bedroom. It’s positively unlived in, the high king bed donning perfectly tucked in sheets, the side table and dresser without a book or knick-knack in sight – not a single hint of human life, other than the fact that it’s a fully furnished bedroom. Probably one of many untouched rooms, you think. A complete waste.

You tiptoe in and are relieved to find an attached bathroom, your heels clacking softly on the floor as you scuttle inside before anybody can poke their head in and tell you to leave. As you’re washing your hands a cold air nuzzles the back of your neck. A ripple of red dances in your peripheral, and you turn to see curtains blowing lightly, the glass door to a balcony sitting open and beckoning you to take a peek at the view.

Ducking under the curtain, you push the glass open further and step out into the crisp air, but are startled to see a figure standing in the corner of the balcony. The figure is a man, from what you can tell by the broad shoulders straining against his tawny vest, and the discarded tailcoat slung over a nearby patio chair. He grips the railing in one of his large hands, leaning into it as he scans the lawn below, and waves of blonde hair quiver gently against his neck.

Worried you’ve intruded, you begin to back away, but your heel catches on the track of the door and you stumble into it with a crash. The man jumps at the sound, turning to look over his shoulder at you, and his thick blonde eyebrows shoot up for a moment in surprise.

“Oh, uh, I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, straightening back up and patting your dress awkwardly, “I just, kinda wandered up here looking for a bathroom. Sorry I’ll–”

“It’s cool.”

Turning around fully, the man leans his elbows back on the balcony railing and cocks his head to the side. Low, golden eyes appraise you, a lazy smile pulling up on his lips. One of his legs crosses over the other, the toe of his loafer bracing against the floor. “I wandered up here, too.” His voice is low and smooth – the kind of voice that would be accompanied by a sip of whiskey. “You’re welcome to join me.”

You hesitate, looking back behind you at the dark, untouched room. “Are we even allowed to be up here?”

He shrugs, just a small push of his shoulders, cool and nonchalant. “Who’s gonna kick us out?”

He offers you a sly smile, and you swear he must be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. It’s the kind of handsome that was a star athlete in high school, probably football quarterback and prom king – always fawned over. And that’s how he carries himself too, lazing against the balcony like a man who has been told over and over again how great he is. But, at the same time, his presence feels calm and effortless, and although there may be an arrogance oozing from him, it feels almost playful. He’s inviting – and honestly, who are you to deny such an invitation?

You can’t help but mirror his smile, relaxing with him. “Ok, but if we get in trouble I’m blaming you.”

He chuckles, low and soft, and presses a glass to his lips before turning back around to continue his people watching.

You settle yourself beside him, leaning against the twisted iron to look down at the courtyard. The party is still bustling, drunken yells and the boom of live music filling out the night air. The people below look smaller and less intimidating from where you are, the chaotic flow suddenly seeming temperate. When you were down there, part of the throng, it felt overwhelming. But from above, it all looks almost… boring.

The man’s voice cuts through the silence that had fallen between you. “So, why aren’t you down there with everyone else?”

“Why aren’t you?” You say, dragging your gaze up to him.

He tilts his head, blonde locks falling to curl against his cheekbones. “I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

He pauses, eyes never leaving yours as he takes another slow sip of his amber drink. The gold of his irises sparkles, mischievous, but also thoughtful and scrutinizing. The effortless intensity of him is undeniably alluring, and it brings a low heat to simmer under your skin. His tongue peeks out, flicking over his plump bottom lip to collect the leftover liquid.

“Well,” he finally says, “I don’t really like parties.”

A small laugh pushes out through your nose. “Why are you here then?”

His gaze turns up, as if searching the dark sky for an answer to a question he had never thought to ask himself.

“Just something to do, I guess. To not be bored.”

You nod, and let the space between you be filled with the thrum of the party below. You’re thankful he doesn’t press you about why you weren’t down there because, really, you’re not sure how you would answer. You’d gotten bored, and how could you have gotten bored of such a grand party? What were you really expecting in coming here? You’re not entirely sure but in the end you simply feel… disappointed.

The ruffle of shifting clothes comes from beside you, the man turning to lean his back against the railing again, the iced stones in his glass clinking with his movements. A strong bicep presses against yours, his heat leaking from under the white linen of his sleeves and warming your bare arm. His scent carries to you, and your senses are filled with pine needles, wood barrels and the sting of bourbon. Your skin begins to buzz, an excitement growing, but the low timbre of his voice finally cuts through the tension.

“What do you think,” he gestures around vaguely, lazy gaze meeting yours, “of all this?”

For a moment you weigh if you should be honest with this stranger. You feel comfortable next to him, and his indifferent attitude makes you think he won’t bat an eye at your harsher opinions. Plus, the bit of alcohol you’ve had has made your lips looser, your inhibitions weaker. You decide to be candid.

“It’s a bit much. I get what they mean now when they say money can’t buy taste.” You say sarcastically, eyeing the infinity pool below. A woman poses for a picture beside it and loses her footing, almost toppling over into the dark water. “It just feels so grossly indulgent. And all the decor is so extra. Like ‘we get it you’re rich’ y’know?”

For the first time since being out here with him, the man laughs. A head thrown back, chest bouncing, full-bodied laugh. His wide smile pushes up the light pink of his cheeks, exposing small dimples and making the edges of his eyes crinkle. The balcony is filled with the heartiness of him, and you can’t help but smile too.

Catching his breath, he finally responds. “Figures you wouldn’t be into anything like this.”

The bridge of your nose furrows in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry, I mean, like — I mean that in a good way. Just doesn’t seem like you’d be into this shit.” A lopsided grin spreads across his face, and he leans his cheek into his hand, looking up at you.

You straighten your back, scoffing down at him, which only makes his playful smile widen. “What kind of things do I seem like I would be into then? Enlighten me.”

His face scrunches in mock thoughtfulness, quick to bounce back into its boyish cockiness. “Books, probably. You seem like the brainy type.”

You snort. “I can’t tell if you’re insulting me or not.”

He shoots up, hands coming up in surrender. “No, no seriously! I swear! I meant—“

“I’m joking. I’m not insulted.”

Relaxation softens him again, but he doesn’t lean back against the railing, and with the both of you now fully standing you come to realize how big he is. He’s only about a head taller than you, but he’s built. His muscles easily fill out his sleeves and the legs of his trousers, wide and bulky. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of how strong he must be.

You decide that you would like to find out how strong he is.

You turn to him, face raised up towards his in flirtatious defiance. “But how could you tell that about me, hm? You’ve only known me for like five minutes.”

He looks down his nose at you, pulling his lower lip between his teeth before releasing it to say, “I have great intuition.”

“Well,” you cross your arms over your chest, “maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I actually hate books.”

The eye contact drags on as he swishes his drink around in its glass then gulps down the last of it. You watch, making a conscious effort not to waiver as the heat inside you swells. A tension crackles between the two of you, and it swims in his eyes, plays on his lips. It pulls at your chest, making your heartbeat flutter in your throat.

“Ok then, how about you let me show you something. And then we can see if I’m wrong or not.”

You’re led briskly through the mansion and into another wing, far from the commotion of the party. You’d learned that this handsome stranger is named Keigo, after you insisted on at least knowing that before you allowed him to take you anywhere. (So you could know the name of your kidnapper, you joked. He laughed.)

Small chandeliers hang from the ceiling, filling your path with dim, incandescent light. You follow behind Keigo closely, intrigued, and he flashes a reassuring smile over his shoulder every once in a while. “Almost there.”

Finally coming to a stop in front of a tall wooden door, Keigo hovers his hand over the knob, glancing back at you once more. The warm light fills his eyes, the gold swimming with excitement.

“Ready to eat your words?”

He pushes the door open, flattening himself against it to let you walk in past him, and lantern-style wall lamps seem to light on their own, a domino of heat that fills the room one after the other. You breathe a small “whoa”, stopping in your tracks to marvel at the room. It’s a huge, gothic-style library – the most beautiful library you’ve ever seen in person. Dark wood shines in the light, towering shelves completely covering the walls and lined neatly with books. A maroon leather couch sits in front of an arching window, its armchair sibling close by with a fur rug spread out between them. On the far end is a desk, and beside it in the corner is a spiraling black staircase that connects to a narrow upper floor, allowing access to even more books.

It’s gorgeous.

“Right?”

Your feet carry you forward, eyes traveling along the colorful spines nested in the heavy wood. You’re not even processing any of the titles, just overwhelmed by the sheer size and elegance of the room. You would probably think it cliche, to be the bookworm who is awe-struck by the million dollar library, but in the moment you can’t seem to care. The room itself – the architecture, the furniture – is everything you would have imagined for a dream home of your own.

The skirt of your dress twists and dances around your legs when you finally turn excitedly back to Keigo, finding him leaned against the wall with a gloating smirk on his face. But even though he’s exuding ‘I told you so’, there’s a fondness softening his features, a latent affection blooming from him.

You roll your eyes playfully, continuing your little game. “Alriiight,” you close the distance between you, placing quick, condescending pats on his chest, “so you were right. Congratulations.”

Keigo lays his hand over yours, dwarfing it against his chest before you can pull away, and steps forward into you. “What do I win for being right?”

You’re thankful that it isn’t his hand on your chest, because then he would feel the little jackrabbit kicking beneath your ribs. His face is so close you can see the flecks in his irises, the light dusting of pink on the high points of his cheeks. You can smell his breath, the sharp twang of whiskey masked lightly by spearmint, his face leaning provocatively towards yours as his eyes blink down to your lips.

Your response is a barely-there murmur. “What do you want?”

“I wanna kiss you.” Eyes blink back up, gold appearing again from behind thick blonde lashes. “Can I?”

A nod, and his hand slides over the side of your neck, thumb caressing your cheekbone. Your face follows his, angling up as his angles down, noses nuzzling against each other, and then he’s kissing you. His lips slot softly against yours, warm and pillowy and effortlessly sensual. He breaks away for a moment, smiling against your mouth, and you pull him in again, arms wrapping around his neck to deepen your connection.

The way you melt into him feels natural. The way his hands begin to roam your body, the way your mouth opens for his tongue, the way your kisses become hungrier, feels natural.

You’re pulling hard at the locks at the base of his neck as his tongue explores your mouth, blindly walking you back until the crease of your ass is pressing into the corner of the desk. You kiss slow, deep and passionate, faces moving against each other in a rhythm that comes easy to you both. You let go only for a moment to reach down and hike up the skirt of your dress, settling yourself onto the desk with the guidance of his strong hands and making space for him between your thighs. The broadness of him pushes your legs open further, and he braces his palms on the desk, trapping you between them.

You kiss harder, harder still, tongues becoming messier, teeth becoming playful. You angle your hips forward, hand grabbing onto his side and encouraging him to grind into you. A groan, hot and heavy, sinks into your neck where he breathes it into the skin.

Each wet kiss and teasing suck on your neck leaves behind a trail of fire, adding to the inferno growing in your belly. Your fingers dig into the thick fabric of his trousers as you pull his hips into yours again, grinding hard, wanting more. Another breathy groan, and he bites softly, carefully, into your shoulder.

“Need you, Keigo. Need you to touch me.”

You can feel the twist of his lips against your neck when he smiles, “I am touching you.”

A whine. “You know what I mean.”

His tongue snakes up your neck, and he nips a small bite to your jaw before pulling back, eyes finding yours. He grins, that cocky, knowing grin again.

“Say please.”

You huff, but the throb between your legs is stronger than your pride.

“Please.”

Keigo helps you out of your dress, and you help him out of what remains of his suit. Delirious with need by the time you’re both down to your underwear, you latch back onto each other, sharing heated kisses and soft moans as you settle back into place on the desk.

His greedy hands travel up your thighs, massaging the plush flesh as they go. And your hands indulge in him, feeling over the muscles of his chest and back, squeezing at the bulk of his arms. His fingers finally find the apex of your thighs, and he swallows your moan when they push the crotch of your panties aside and dip between your folds.

“So wet already,” he teases, collecting your slick on the tips of his fingers and lubricating your already swollen clit. Spreading your lips apart with his index and ring finger, he presses his middle finger into the sensitive bud and rubs small circles there. Your hand wraps around his thick wrist, pushing him down further, urging him to stretch you.

“Wanna be filled, huh?”

You whine a response, and Keigo chuckles.

“I’ll fill you up baby, don’t worry.”

A hiss pulls through his teeth when he feels the tightness of your cunt around his finger. He adds another, working them into you deep, massaging at spots you’ve never been able to reach on your own. Your legs open wider, eyes fluttering closed, pained “oh fuck”s and “ah right there”s slipping through your lips and against his.

But it’s still not enough.

You pull away from his searing kiss and grip his forearm, tugging until he pulls out of you, curiosity painting Keigo’s face as he watches. Guiding his hand up, you maneuver his fingers with yours and slide the soiled ones into your mouth, eyes trained on his as you wrap your lips around them and suck. Keigo’s lashes flutter lightly when he feels your warm mouth around him, the wet movements of your tongue against his skin. All cockiness is drained from him for a moment, his darkened eyes hazing over, jaw slackening.

“God damn —“ You lick up his long digits then suck them back into your mouth with a hum, pleased to taste yourself on him. “Fuck, you’re perfect, you know that?”

Reveling in the way Keigo melts before you, you reach your other hand down and press your palm into his clothed cock. You push it against his abdomen, feeling its heat and the small wet spot through his boxers, and apply light pressure as you rub against it. He melts more for you, his pretty mouth falling open, pretty face screwing up in a concentrated agony.

Releasing his fingers, you pout coquettishly up at him, rubbing the heel of your palm harder into the head of his cock. “I wanna feel this inside me. Need you to fuck me, Kei.”

“God, ok — fuck, c’mere —“

Keigo’s arms hook under your legs, grabbing around your thighs and pulling your hips forward to the edge of the desk in one fluid motion. You giggle as your back meets the smooth wood, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Keigo appears over you, his hair falling down around his face, a frame of champagne. He eclipses the warm light behind him, and the rays make the edges of him glow. He is golden, you think — liquid, syrupy gold like melted down metal, shining effortlessly in the light.

He dips his head down to kiss you as his hand pushes his boxers around his thighs, and you feel his cock bob against your mound, hard and heavy and leaking arousal onto your skin. He swipes himself between your lips, mixing his lust with yours until his cock is coated with it, glistening. A kiss pressed to your cheek and a soft curse breathed into your skin, and he’s finally sinking into you.

You fill the room with the sounds of your sin, grunts and whines bouncing off the spines of the books that line the walls. His strokes are long and deep as his hands run all over your body, as if they can taste your skin and he wants to commit the flavor to memory.

His wandering hands find your tits, pulling down the cups of your bra to expose them, and he curses, nestling his face there and sucking bruises into the fat. He turns his face to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning into you when he feels the squeeze of your cunt around him.

“Fuck, these tits are so pretty.” He trails kisses up your chest, along your clavicle, your shoulder. He kisses you so much, everywhere, lips coming down to meet your skin over and over. He’s indulging in you completely, unabashedly. “Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Another kiss, this time to your calf as he straightens up. He pushes your legs together, pressing his lips to the soles of your feet before throwing them over his shoulder and leaning into you once more.

He’s so deep like this, folding you in on yourself with one arm wrapped around your legs and the other bracing himself against the table. He pulls back and rolls forward, his cock so slippery with your juices that it slides in easily. Everything is so slippery with your juices — his groin, your thighs, the wood underneath you. But there is something about Keigo that guards you from embarrassment, his brazen light filling out every dark corner.

“How’s that feel baby,” he breathes hotly, eyes low but still alight with a proud spark, “feel good?”

You can only manage a moan in response. He’s filling you out completely, his girth pushing you open to make a snug space for himself, his length reaching to prod at parts of you that you’d forgotten existed. It’s making your head go fuzzy, the tension in your body pulling taut with each thrust.

Keigo babbles above you, losing himself more and more as he fucks you, the arrogant facade fading into a lustful wonderment that makes his face flush pink and his brows knit together. “So f-fuckin’ good baby, this pussy feels so – so good, like it was made for me – hah – made for my cock –”

And you babble back, breathless words of encouragement that become broken somewhere in their journey from your mind to your mouth. Telling him how good he feels, how deep he is, how you want to cum on his cock so bad. And his cock kicks with each sweet word, each intoxicating drip of praise that falls from your lips.

Keigo straightens his back, one hand splayed out on your thigh to encourage you to stay folded in half for him while his other hand reaches between your legs to rub rough circles into your clit. The view of him is delicious, standing over you as his hips snap into yours, his muscles rippling, pulled taut and glistening with a layer of sweat.

But his face – handsome features softened into boyish pleasure, eyes wide and pleading as they take in every one of your expressions, roving over your body like you may disappear at any moment, might slip straight from his grasp like the last memories of a dream.

His eyes squeeze shut, his pace becoming more erratic, and his thumb presses harder into your clit, desperate to coax your release from you, desperate to please you. “Need you – to cum for me baby, need’ta feel you cum on my cock, please give it to me baby – please –”

It hits you like a freight train, pleasure ripping through your body hot and bright like an exploding star, a supernova. Your cunt clamps down around him, squeezing greedily as you cum, hungry to be filled by him. And Keigo answers its call, bearing his weight back down on you as he buries himself inside you, balls tightening hard against his body as his own release shoots through him.

He groans, a low growl that tapers off into a whine, hoarse with the most beautiful agony, and you think you hear a rumbling “mine” come from deep in his chest. A shudder is shared between you as he releases himself over and over into you, thick cock pulsing with each new rope of cum that pools inside you and fills your belly with a heady warmth.

You stay like that for a while, bathing in each other’s afterglow, lost in the pleasurable swirl between you. Your nails scratch lightly up and down his strong back while he litters any piece of you he can reach with lazy kisses. It’s not until your body begins to ache from the position and Keigo’s cock begins to soften, unplugging you and creating a path for his spend to leak out of, does he finally push himself upright. He sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to lay with him on the leather couch, pulling you to drape yourself over his sweaty chest so he can revel in the moment with you a bit longer.

You lay like that for an unknowable amount of time, warmed by one another, playing absentmindedly with each other’s skin and hands and hair. It feels comfortable, effortless – like everything you’ve done with Keigo tonight. It’s eerily familiar, being with him like this, like his presence has been a constant for some time. But your mind can’t linger on it too long as it buzzes with the afterwaves of your pleasure.

“Can I tell you something?” Keigo finally says, his voice vibrating your ear where it’s pressed to his chest. “You have to promise not to laugh at me though, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

You hum a sleepy affirmative, lost in the press of his thumbs against your palm as he massages into it.

He breathes deeply, the pass of it through his nose loud with relief.

“I had all of this built for you. This whole library. Because I knew you’d like it.”

Confusion swims in the haze, your mind trying to wrap around the statement.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I renovated the whole movie theater and had it made into a big library, just for you. Because I know how much you like reading,” he laughs, “It took months, my contractor was so —”

You interrupt him, voice sharper now as you crane your head up to look at him. “Keigo, what are you talking about?”

“Oh I — I guess I lied to you huh,” his eyes look up towards the ceiling, far-away and dreamy, “It wasn’t intuition, I knew you liked books. You read so much, I think you’ve read more books in the last year than I have my whole life.”

You don’t have time to process the confession that you’d wanted to hear all night, the confession that you’d uncovered the biggest mystery of the evening, because now there is a more jarring confession eclipsing it, drowning it out with blaring alarm bells.

Your mouth finally opens to speak again, tongue feeling swollen, suddenly dry and heavy with fear.

“Keigo have you… have you been watching me?”

“No,” he says quickly, brows furrowing as if the implication is offensive, but then they pull back up in acceptance, like a child deciding to admit a wrongdoing, “I mean, well yeah, technically but it was more like —“

You’re up in an instant, something dark writhing in your gut, a voice screaming in your head that something isn’t right. He had been watching you? For at least a year? How was that possible? You had never seen him before tonight, at least not that you can remember. Your blood runs cold in your veins and your heart begins to hammer in your ears, spreading the ice throughout your body and making your bones go rigid with panic.

Your mind is moving a million miles a second, thinking back on every moment, every small interaction you’ve had. An uncomfortable sensation pricks at your skin — you feel violated, dirty. Every detail, every perfect romantic detail about the night, suddenly feels tainted, splattered with the pungent sludge of whatever lie has been weaved to trap you. This whole experience is a spiderweb, a gold dusted spiderweb, and you the tiny, stupid fly, unwittingly captured.

All you have are questions, one after the other cycling through your brain in rapid succession, but one thing is for certain; You need to leave, get away from him, get out of this giant house and run.

“I — I think I should go,” you stammer, trying your best to keep your voice even as your body rushes to grab your discarded clothes, “my friends are probably —“

His arms wrapping around you are sure and strong, pulling you back into his clammy chest with a vice-like grip. You thrash uselessly in his hold, mouth moving on its own to shakily ask him to let you go, to tell him you’re not upset, that it’s fine and you just need to go.

His voice is eerily calm when it finally comes from behind you, laced with something dark and heavy that makes fear crawl up your spine, prickling painfully at your ribs, and forcing its way into your esophagus.

“You can't go.”

XXX

“I want to talk to you about the things we could do… Is it really you, or is it deja vu…?”

Keigo Takami has… well, everything. He has a Ferrari, and a Bentley, and a Mercedes. He has not one but two multi-million dollar homes, one in the city and the other in Italy. He’s had actresses, and models, and porn stars, and even politicians’ wives. He owns clothing from designers he doesn’t even care about, and he decorates his homes with fine art by artists he couldn’t remember the names of. Keigo Takami has everything he could ever want, and plenty of things he never wanted at all but bought anyways, just because he could. Just because, what else would he do?

Keigo Takami has everything.

At least that’s what he thought, until he met you.

Well, ‘met’ is a loaded word. He had seen you, coming out of a coffee shop as he was walking in. You had bumped into him, actually, distracted by a book in your hand, barely even sparing him a glance when you squeaked out a small apology. Cute, he’d thought, but that had been the end of his thoughts.

Until he saw you again, sitting under a tree at a nearby park. You were perched on a blanket, legs sprawled out and hand clutching yet another book. He had been on his way to a meeting but decided to slow his pace, watching you flip through the pages languidly as he walked by. You really were cute, lip working between your teeth in concentration, small laughs or furrowed brows giving away your reaction to whatever was on the page. You never looked up at him, and that made him a little sad. But he went on with his day anyway.

But then he saw you again, hiking along his favorite trail in the hills near his home. He had been on his morning jog when he ran past you in the opposite direction and, once again, you barely even noticed him. Earbuds nestled in your ears, head in the clouds, you gave him a tight lipped smile that seemed more out of habit than genuine politeness. Your eyes never met his, your head never turned to appreciate his bare chest in the sun the way most women did.

Keigo had stopped after passing you, watched you as you continued your hike, appreciating the way your leggings hugged the slope of your ass and the slight jiggle of your movements. He turned back and followed behind you for a while, for a reason that still isn’t fully clear to him, and you never even noticed. You just kept walking, humming to yourself, stopping to look at some strange plant every once in a while.

A sick thought crossed his mind then; If he had wanted to, if he was that kind of guy, he could have pushed you into the bushes and had his way with you right there in the heat of the afternoon sun. He could have held you down and pushed your cute face into the dirt, gotten it all cut up by twigs and caked in mud. He could have ripped your leggings and sunk his cock deep into your cunt, gotten his dick nice and wet and watched your ass ricochet with each buck of his hips. He could have emptied his balls inside you, held you there with his cock still plugging you up to make sure it really stuck, all while you thrashed and cried and tried uselessly to push him away. You wouldn’t have seen him coming, and you definitely wouldn’t have been able to fight him off.

You were so lucky that he wasn’t that kind of guy. That’s what he thought as he followed behind you, his cock swelling in his running shorts.

But then an even sicker thought crossed his mind, one that made his skin crawl; What if a guy who was that kind of guy tried to do that to you.

You were clearly so helpless, unable to look after yourself, totally unaware that you were currently being followed. This was your third run-in, he could be a stalker for all you knew, and he was sure that you were none the wiser. He didn’t think you were an airhead, not with all that reading, but it was clear that you were lost in your own mind just a little too much. You needed somebody grounded and capable and put-together to be looking after you.

Someone like Keigo.

And, sure, he could have just paid somebody else to look after you for him. But then somebody else would know where you hike, and where you read, and where you get coffee. And where you work, and where you live, and where your favorite bar downtown is, and where you get your hair done, and where you park your car when you visit your childhood home. And Keigo just couldn’t have that.

So he started looking after you. He was always looking after you, everywhere you went, whenever he could. It was really no bother for him, what with his unlimited resources, and he honestly found that it was a great way to pass the time. He had gotten a little bored, and you were just so interesting to him.

But then you started dating somebody. And something about that just didn’t sit right with Keigo. He didn’t like the way your boyfriend never opened the passenger door for you when you got in his car. And he didn’t like that your boyfriend never seemed to bring you flowers, or sweets, or those lavender oat milk lattes you like so much. And he definitely didn’t like the way your boyfriend fucked you, at least from what he could see through your window — and the footage he collected from the cameras he eventually had hidden in your apartment. Anyways, the point was that the guy’s stroke game was weak, and he was a shitty boyfriend. He was hardly dicking you down correctly, let alone looking after you the way you needed. You deserved so much better.

So, at that point, Keigo had come to an impasse. He was no longer content with just looking after you from afar, especially when there was somebody else who got to be so close to you and was failing at it so miserably. He knew he needed to be closer, make you his, and then he could really protect you.

He thought that maybe he could approach you, lay on his winning charm, but he knew that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a man like him, at least not the man he was on the outside. You weren’t like the girls he usually bedded, you were different. You wouldn’t be interested in his cars and his clothes — you weren’t vapid, you were poetic.

So Keigo had to think of a different way to get close to you. Some way that he could spontaneously meet you without it seeming odd, and without you immediately writing him off. And then it clicked, a way he could bring you into his space and woo you, curate something so magical and romantic that you would fall for him naturally — the way they always do in those novels you read.

So that year he threw party after party, lavish affair after lavish affair, each more outrageous than the last until he became infamous for them. And all of them were expertly designed with one outcome in mind; To lure you in.

And finally, finally he did lure you in. And everything went perfectly. You reacted exactly how he knew you would, to everything. And then he was able to sweep you off your feet while also showing you that he wasn’t just some rich asshole, he was funny and flirtatious and sweet – he was worth loving. And then he was able to finally get a taste of your sweet cunt, and fuck all those pretty sounds out of you, and fill you up so full of him the way he’d always wanted.

But then he fucked it up.

In his blissed out state, he fucked it up. And he was going to ruin it — he was going to lose you. You wouldn’t let him protect you. You wouldn’t let him be what you needed.

Luckily, Keigo is a grounded and capable and put-together man, and he always has a back-up plan.

Keigo Takami has everything, but what he does not have is you. And he is going to do whatever it takes to make you his, the way he wants you to be. The way he knows you truly need, deep down inside.

He is committed to you in a way you may not understand yet, but you would come to accept that he knows what’s best for you. Eventually. Until then, he’ll do what he has to in order to keep you safe.

That’s why he wraps his arm around your neck, nestles your pretty throat into the crook of his elbow, and squeezes until you can't kick anymore. That’s why he hoists you over his shoulder and pulls the lever hidden in one of the bookshelves to open the hidden doorway, also built with you in mind. That’s why he lays you down gently in the bed and takes extra care not to hurt you when he secures the chains to your wrists and ankles. That’s why he closes your pretty gold-plated cell lightly, careful not to make the dome-shaped bars rattle and wake you.

Keigo Takami has everything now, and you will be his most coveted possession.

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macnevercries · 2 months

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BAKUGOU x FEM!READER

♫ ⏯︎ Innerbloom (What So Not Remix) - RÜFÜS DU SOUL

☆IT’S A PARTY! REQUEST EVENT | MASTERLIST

BAKUGOU (BNHA) x WORK PARTY ☆NYE EDITION☆

REQUESTED BY ☆ @i-hate-your-guts-babydoll

LENGTH ☆ 3.2k

CONTAINS ☆ NSFW! Fuck buddy Bkg, mutual pining, office sex, creampie, alcohol mention, dubcon (alcohol), a single ass smack, fingering, light degradation, use of “slut” and “brat”, slightly rough sex into more meaningful sex, bkg puts his hand over your mouth to shut you up lol, it gets hot and heavy (and sappy) at the end, reader and bkg are both idiots who are bad at feelings (:

AN ☆ Happy New Year’s! Let’s pretend I didn’t finish this a week after actual NYE lol. Katsuki held me hostage and made me write him just a little softer — it was completely against my will and not indicative at all of how much I really do love him. Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this request and I hope you enjoy! <3

“If you want me, if you need me, I’m yours…”

You don’t really like fireworks.

That’s what you’re thinking to yourself as you lean against the side of the building, head tilted upwards. Soon the sky above will be filled with sparks of color, faraway specks of firelight that burst and dance through the air before making their descent down to earth. But for now, there is only darkness; There are no stars in the vast ocean of black, every little twinkling light chased away by the cruel brilliance of the city. You miss the stars, but you much prefer the empty sky to one filled with fireworks. You’re savoring the silence for now — well, the closest thing you can get to silence in the city on a night like this.

Milky white wisps and curls around your face as you take another drag of your cigarette, cherry tip sizzling in agreeance. Excited squeals and boisterous laughter leaks out from the office building behind you, a reminder of the work party you’re trying to escape for a moment. The smoke in your lungs blows out on a long sigh.

New Year’s is not your favorite holiday. It’s not even your second favorite, or your third. You’d hardly even count it as a “holiday” in your mind. Really, it’s more of a marker, a white line painted on the cement that somehow signals both the finish and the start all at once. Feet step over the thick strip of paint and cheers ripple through the air – and then you blink, and the pop of a gun startles you. You’ve finished the race, made it through the year, but the race simply begins again. And in that maddening loop you are forever caught. Forever running the same circular stretch of pavement. Over and over, year after year.

And the waving flag just up ahead also reminds you of all of the loose ends you’ve left to flutter in the wind behind you. Some have called you cynical, many have called you negative, but the truth of the matter is that you don’t really see New Year’s as sweet opportunity. The New Year is sour, stale. Another year, another rotting pile of the unfinished, the unfulfilled, the unanswered.

And then one of those unanswered questions saunters right out into the courtyard with you, heavy footsteps reverberating in the night.

“Y’really shouldn’t smoke those.” The voice is deep, gruff. From that, and the annoyed click of his tongue when you take another drag, you know exactly who it is.

“Oh really?” You look down at the cigarette between your fingers, and feel a warm body settle in next to you. “Why’s that?”

“‘s’bad for yer health.”

You swivel your head, eyes finding your nag. Sharp features, piercing crimson, and ash blonde hair that, despite the clean-cut dress shirt and slacks he’s wearing, is still undeniably wild.

“So is picking fights with violent criminals,” you quip, tilting your face up towards his defiantly, “but you don’t see me telling you how to live your life.”

Amusement spreads slowly across his face, a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. He turns his head and snorts a small laugh, trying his best not to give you the satisfaction. Noticing the pink dusting his cheeks and the drink in his hand, you realize — he’s drunk. It’s a rare occasion to see Dynamight drunk.

Dynamight is the most successful sidekick at the agency. Fresh out of college, he’s made a name for himself quickly. As the agency’s head dispatcher, you work closely with the team of sidekicks, serving as their coordinator and reliable point of contact when they’re out in the field. Surprisingly to many, you and Dynamight work well together. He’s a hard worker and a quick thinker, which makes your job easier. And you have thick skin and a sharp tongue, which comes in handy when dealing with him. Ultimately, a mutual respect had eventually settled between you.

Among other things.

Flicking the butt of the cigarette to the floor, you extend your foot to stamp it out under your heel. You can feel his eyes on you, his gaze always so damn heavy.

“I like that dress,” he tells you, tipping his glass to his lips, regarding you over the edge of it.

“I’d offer to let you borrow it,” a small smile to accompany the playful lilt in your voice, “but I don’t really think it’s your color.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop bein’ a smartass, you know what I mean.”

Turning to him, you cross your arms loosely over your chest. This is your favorite game to play with him, especially when he’s in a good mood — like after a successful capture, or when alcohol has loosened his usually tight demeanor.

“I don’t think I do know what you mean.”

He pushes himself off the wall and is in your space in a moment, eyes narrowing, a smirk on his lips. “I like that dress on you,” he says, a low growl that makes your heart flutter in your throat, “But I think I’d like it better on the floor. Or ripped to shreds. I’ll let you choose how I take it off you, just this once.”

“Mighty generous of you, Dynamight.”

A sneer, and his eyes bounce down below your nose. “Keep up that little attitude and I’ll ruin more than just your dress.”

The unanswered question that hangs heaviest between you was born from the fact that you and Bakugou have been regularly hooking up for four months now, and you haven’t the faintest idea what the fuck he really wants from you.

It had started a lot like this – a night warmed by alcohol and a budding sexual tension. You had been surprised when your coworkers told you Bakugou would be tagging along to happy hour after work, and you were even more surprised when he’d drunkenly insisted on walking you home after. (“‘s’not safe,” he’d drawled, hands stuffed stiffly in his pockets.) A slightly awkward kiss in front of your door had turned into many heated kisses through the doorway, and down the hall, and into your bedroom, and tangled in each other until the sun peeked through your curtains.

But he was gone when you woke up. The only evidence that he had been there at all was a plate of food set neatly on the counter with a scrawled note that told you to “go buy some real groceries”. When you next saw him in the office, it was like nothing had happened. He strapped on his hero uniform, and you perched yourself in front of your web of monitors, and neither of you even so much as stole a knowing glance. But when his voice crackled through your headset, deep and rough and spitting curses, you could feel the heat simmer beneath your skin. What you didn’t know was that he felt the same – until he confronted you weeks later at another office outing about ‘avoiding him’. He fucked you hard in an alleyway near the bar that night, a leg hiked up roughly around his hip after you both realized you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other long enough to make it to your apartment.

The hookups became regular after that, the flirting more brazen. But the nature of your relationship remained a mystery. One that became more and more perplexing with each note left on your counter, each lunch that appeared on your desk, each cigarette snatched from your grasp and stomped into the pavement.

Those questions itch at the back of your neck but, when Bakugou brings his lips closer to your ear, the warmth of his breath and the rumble of his voice always has a way of soothing them. “The conference room is unlocked. Go in there and wait for me.”

And when he has you turned around with your hands braced against the long conference desk, his chest pressed to your back and his hard cock rubbing against the curve of your ass, any doubts that may have plagued your mind suddenly fizzle out completely. Each kiss sucked into your neck, each curse breathed into your hair, each spark of frustration squeezed into your hips – it all empties your mind of any logical thoughts and leaves behind nothing but a burning stretch of need.

His palms are rough but his touch is tender as he feels you, explores your dips and swells with equal parts care and hunger. It’s like they can’t choose a spot to settle on, running over your arms, kneading at your tits, digging into your waist. You push back into him, reveling in the feel of his thick cock trapped between your body and his. And his hands finally find purpose, one coaxing your face to turn and meet with his for a sloppy kiss, the other snaking under the hem of your dress to grip at the fat of your ass.

“I like this dress,” he breathes against your mouth.

You chuckle, “You told me that already.”

“Well I’m tellin’ ya again,” he grumbles, “fuckin’ brat.”

He grips your hip hard, forcing you to grind back on him. You peer at him over your shoulder, rolling your hips against him, grinding harder, and watch his lids droop and his jaw slacken at the pressure. There’s an inky darkness cast over the empty conference room, but the glitter of the city is spilling through the high windows just so, highlighting the mist of lust in his eyes.

He’s perfectly disheveled in his formal attire, suit jacket abandoned, sleeves rolled up on his muscular forearms, tie loosened and slightly askew. It makes your chest ache to see him like this, makes something bubble up in you that you’re inclined to swallow back down. And you think you see something on his face that mirrors your thoughts, something in the way his gaze softens when he’s looking you over in the dim light.

You gasp when you feel his fingers against your clothed pussy, and he snickers, a cocky expression back on his face in an instant. “You’re soaked already,” he notes with a laugh, “I can feel it through your panties.”

Matching his energy, you reach back to palm at his cock through his slacks, smiling when you hear his sharp inhale. “You gonna keep talking shit all night, or are you gonna fuck me?”

The heavy weight of his hand between your shoulder blades forces you down, bending you over the desk until your chest is smooshed against the cold surface. He yanks your dress up, pushing the slinky fabric until it’s gathered around your waist, exposing your ass to the cool air. Blunt nails dig into your flesh, then a harsh swat to your cheek makes you yelp and snicker.

He’s grumbling under his breath as he fiddles with his zipper, complaining about your smart fuckin’ mouth and telling you how he’ll shut you the fuck up. You peek back and bite down on your lip when you catch a glimpse of his cock being pulled through the open zipper of his slacks, so hard that a vein bulges along the side and a glistening bead of pre drips from the tip.

And then his finger is hooking under the thin fabric of your thong, knuckle brushing against your pussy as he pulls it to the side. An anticipatory shiver rolls down your spine as you watch his neck crane down, and then you feel a warm drop of spit hit the tight ring of your ass. It drips through your folds, until two fingers catch it at your clit, running back up and gathering wetness to push back into your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he says as he works his fingers into you, a domineering hand on your back keeping you bent over the desk, “This how wet you get thinkin’ about me railing you in the middle of the office?”

His fingers curl into you, the pad of his thumb coming to rub at your clit, and your back arches, a whine escaping you. “Got nothin’ to say now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, shooting a glare back at him. “Bakugou, if you don’t just fuck me already I swear to—“

His hand clasps firmly around your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks as he turns your face forward. The tie around his neck tickles at your back when he arches his hulking form over you.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” His growl sends a shiver down your spine, and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he continues, “Or else the whole office is gonna hear what a slut you are for me.”

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt to grasp his cock at the base. He swipes it along your folds, gets the head coated in your juices. You’re holding your breath, feeling the familiar push of his tip against your entrance, and then he’s finally sinking into you, groaning along with your muffled exhale.

He fucks you hard and deep, pulling on your hip to force you back and meet his sharp thrusts. The moans he punches out of you are caught in the shell of his palm, your muted cries and snorts of breath sounding downright animalistic mixed with his grunts of pleasure. It’s so good, the way he’s manhandling you, the way his cock drills into you, the way his hand feels hot and dominant wrapped around your face – you can feel your core tightening, ready to burst and spill all over him.

But then you hear excited yells coming from down the hall, and your eyes widen.

Your hand slaps frantically against his arm, and he quickly releases you, hips stalling as his mouth opens to ask if he’d hurt you.

“They’re about to start the countdown!” You exclaim, breathless.

A pause. “So?”

“So…” The end of your thought hangs heavy between you.

Why does that matter to you suddenly? You don’t even care for New Year’s, would go so far as to say you dislike it. So why does the symbolism of counting down the hour suddenly feel so important to you?

Bakugou is perceptive, and the answer comes to him before it does you.

“What, ya worried about a New Year’s kiss? I’m literally fucking you in the office, I think we’re a little further along than that.”

He snorts, expecting you to find the thought funny. But you don’t laugh. Crimson bores into the back of your head, willing his gaze to penetrate and unveil what you’re thinking. He takes a deep breath, and then softens a bit.

“Fine, c’mere.”

And then you’re being whipped around to face him. Fingers splay across the base of your neck, his hand strong and sure as it cradles you there, and he steps forward into you until the backs of your thighs are pressed against the side of the desk. His other hand helps you settle yourself on top of the surface, and then he’s slotted between your thighs, sticky cock resting against your mound. Your noses nestle together, so close his warm breath ghosts against your mouth when he parts his lips to speak.

“Three…” He murmurs against your mouth, joining the raucous counting just outside the door. His voice vibrates your lips, and when his tongue flicks out to wet his own you feel it graze you. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, can practically taste it.

“Two…” Your gaze flits up from his mouth, and you find that deep carmine is already waiting there for you. Burning hot, piercing right into you like a blade from a fire. His hand slips to the small of your back, pressing you even closer against him, and your bodies mold together like well warmed clay.

“One…” And as the world erupts around you, his lips find their place pressed against yours. It’s soft, but full of an intensity that rings so much louder than the cheers that bleed through the walls. The boom of a firework echoes through the city, then another, but you don’t notice. Everything around you is muffled, the celebration light years away. In your world it’s almost silent – save for the soft sounds you swap between you, and the deafening beat of your heart.

You kiss again, and again, lips and tongues chasing after each other in a rhythmic dance. It’s different, the way you’re clinging to each other and losing yourselves on each other’s breath. The change is palpable, the tension so thick that it seems to dunk you both beneath it until you’re gasping for air. The question is there again, but this time it’s more than just an itch, not something you can swallow down. It’s trembling, shooting up towards the heavens, on the verge of bursting into a million flaming pieces.

In the heat of it all, you find yourself angling yourself on the edge of the desk, him grabbing hold of his cock to line it back up with your entrance. He presses forward, sinking into you again with a sigh that you eagerly swallow. He fucks you deeply, kisses you deeply, never fully leaving you as he rocks into you and tangles his mouth with yours over and over again.

There’s no room for words between you, no air to form them with, until your head finally falls back and your legs wrap themselves around his hips. Only then does he press his forehead to yours, holding you firmly by the back of your neck, and speaks to you with a hungry rasp you’ve never heard before.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he tells you, brows knitted together, pupils bleeding into the deep sea of red, “Look so fuckin’ gorgeous tonight – fuck, I wanna see you cum – ngh-need you to cum with me.”

He’s not fucking you hard, or fast, but he’s massaging into you with a different kind of intensity, carving a meaningful space for himself inside of you that your body welcomes with equal parts desperation and passion. The heat of it all is so strong, so bright, that it ignites you in an instant. Your orgasm rips through you, separates every tiny piece of you and sets it ablaze. Bakugou holds you tightly against him the whole time, head damp where it’s connected to yours, talking you through it in a pleading voice, “So fuckin’ gorgeous — god, look at me, keep your eyes on me, baby fuck gonna cum with you, gonna—“

And then his hips stutter, and he’s spilling over inside you, panting and swearing as he follows you over the edge. He unloads himself completely into you, and a heady warmth radiates deep in your gut as you both breathe deep, ragged breaths together.

The pop of a firework startles you both, and your heads turn together just as a supernova of color fills the darkness. It dances across your face and glitters in your eyes, and you don’t notice the way Bakugou watches you, don’t see the way you’ve eclipsed everything else in sight.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I liked fireworks, but now I’m not so sure,” you hum thoughtfully as you watch another pretty one explode in the distance. And Bakugou laughs, small and dry. Because he’s always been sure. He’s always loved fireworks.

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macnevercries · 2 months

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“Hitachi” Kaminari x Reader

Summary: The power in the 1A dorms goes out one stormy night and you forgot to charge your Hitachi Wand. Frustrated and horny, you debate whether your persistent release is worth it despite your tense muscles, still sore from training. If only there was a way for the damn toy to charge- oh…

Words: 3,636

Warning: Smut, Mutual Masturbation, a sex toy(hi, duh, its me)

Author’s Note: I was writing this for a request I have regarding a Kaminari x Reader fic but they asked for something just slightly different so I’m making this separate. Let’s have fun with our cute little sparkplug, shall we?

Keep reading

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macnevercries · 2 months

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602 notes · View notes

macnevercries · 2 months

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💜7 mins in Heaven with Dabi: Pt. 7 FINALE💙

Continuation of Part 6

Warnings: Underaged drinking, Lemon

You woke up to sunlight hitting your face. The first thing you noticed was a blanket covering you and the absence of Tomura. Memories from last night hit you like a freight train and you groan, shoving the blanket off.

"Well, good morning to you too," Tomura calls out softly, suddenly crouching down beside you.

You felt sick and nauseous as the events from last night became more clear, your brain no longer foggy from sleep. Throwing your hands over your eyes, you clench your teeth.

"Is it a good morning? Is it really?"

Gentle hands pry yours away from your face. "Hey now, none of that. You did the right thing by telling both of them."

It takes a second for his words to sink in.

"How do you know I told both of them?"

Tomura shifts so he sat on the floor and you roll onto your side to face him. "Well, considering you were up at 4 in the morning and came out crying, there's only one other guy I know who is also up at that time."

He rolls his eyes playfully.

"And Touya miraculously had zero blood on his face when I saw him again and I don't think he was in the right frame of mind to get everything off. He was in bad shape."

He gives you a pointed look as he finishes, but a small smile appears on his face anyway. You sigh in defeat, feeling numb.

"I don't think Hitoshi is ever going to talk to me again," you whisper.

Tomura shifts again and worms his way back onto the couch, forcing you to press your back tightly against the cushions.

"So tell me what happened," Tomura says gently.

You take a deep breath and start telling him everything from the moment Touya saw you in the hallway, not missing the look of surprise Tomura gives you when you tell him how Touya backed away to give you space to decide.

The part with Hitoshi had another wave of tears blurring your vision, but Tomura listened patiently, playing with your hair as you talked. When you finished, you took a deep breath, feeling somewhat lighter.

Tomura hummed and was quiet for a while, processing everything you said. The fingers in your hair had you feeling drowsy again and much more relaxed than before.

"Do you remember when I said they've been acting weird around each other for a while?" Tomura asks finally, breaking the silence.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you nod.

"There's a story, but I have to tell you about the night Keigo and Touya brought you over to Hitoshi's place first," Tomura clears his throat before continuing, "I know Keigo was the main one who dragged you along, and he doesn't just do that for anyone. Keigo is a friendly guy, but I learned later of how Keigo and Touya knew you."

By now, your eyebrows were permanently furrowed as you waited in anticipation for him to continue.

"I have to say, as soon as you made that comment about Mimi being the only pussy Touya can't get, I was a fan and I wasn't the only one," Tomura shoots you a knowing look, "however, when you left and Touya followed you out, we all kinda assumed something was going to happen at your dorm and I could see the disappointment on Hitoshi's face. You might've not seen it but throughout the whole time you sat next to those boys, they looked like they were going to explode."

"Nothing happened," you confirm, remembering that something almost did, but those girls walked by and reminded you who Touya was.

Tomura nods. "I know. Touya came back here pissed as hell and Yo couldn't help but laugh and crack jokes which didn't help his mood. We were all amused which seemed to aggravate him even more, but he didn't leave. Usually, if Touya is denied more than once, he moves on to the next, but for some reason, he's stuck on you."

"Maybe he likes the challenge," you suggest.

"Maybe," Tomura agrees. "Keigo ended up telling us about the 7 minutes in heaven situation and we asked Touya if something happened then and all he said was that the first thing you said to him was that you didn't want to do anything and nothing happened."

You were silent, processing everything that was being discussed about you behind your back. So Hitoshi knew this whole time?

"I know he probably tried to seduce you, we all know, but you denying him a second time? I think he liked it."

Tomura went silent after that as you had an internal battle in your head about what to do about the situation and the choice you had to make.

"I'm scared if I pick him, he'll get what he wanted and move on. Like he wins,'" you admit finally.

He nods in understanding. "That's honestly a possibility. I've seen Touya do that to girls before, but none have kept him waiting as long as you," he furrows his brows briefly, "but you did say he made that comment you in the bathroom so maybe he's serious."

Shivering slightly, you pull the blanket back up around you and Tomura. "I don't understand Hitoshi then. If he knew what happened between Touya and I this whole time..."

Tomura cuddles you close, wrapping an arm around you as you tuck into his chest for warmth.

"Now, with the story I have to tell you, I want you to promise to listen all the way through before saying anything," he says softly but sternly, making you somewhat nervous. You nod against his chest silently.

"Yo, Keigo, Touya, and I have all known each other since the beginning of high school and for the majority of that time, Touya was in a very serious relationship."

Your eyes widen in disbelief, but you remained silent.

"I'm aware of how shocking that sounds, but let me finish," he clears his throat before continuing. "Hitoshi and Kat were the last two to join our little group and he and Touya clicked instantly. They did everything together and..." He sighs wistfully, trailing off.

"To make a long story short, Touya's girlfriend cheated on him with Hitoshi."

You gasp, pulling back from Tomura's chest abruptly, wide-eyed. He shoots you a warning look that he wasn't finished, knowing you already had a million things to say.

"Apparently," Tomura stresses, guiding your head back to his chest, "it had happened before Hitoshi and Kat knew us, so Hitoshi didn't know she was already in a relationship, and it was never confirmed by the girl. Hitoshi swears on everything he had no idea until he met Touya's girlfriend one day, without knowing she was Touya's, and flirted with her, hoping for another hook-up..." Tomura cringes slightly, and you could tell he was remembering the situation. "Touya...confronted...him and said how long they'd been together when Hitoshi came forward and confessed."

Too much information was swirling around your head as you tried to piece everything together. You couldn't imagine Hitoshi hooking up with his best friends' girlfriend knowingly...right?

"Touya was heartbroken and obviously ended the relationship. At the time he believed Hitoshi, but we all know he has some resentment over him. Their friendship wasn't the same after that, and once we came here for college, he became this..." he trails off, looking for a word.

You stayed silent as promised.

"Well, you know. Whatever he is now," Tomura concludes. "I personally think that he's just trying to fill that void that never left. As for Hitoshi, I honestly don't know."

He paused for a second before adding, "Okay, I'm finished now."

"Holy shit," the words left you in a rush, feeling air being punched out of your lungs. Your brain was whirling with thoughts and questions, not knowing where to start.

This time you pulled back again, not knowing what face you were making, but Tomura snorted slightly.

"Do you think it really happened before Touya and Hitoshi knew each other?" Was the first question out of your mouth.

He furrowed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip in thought. "I'm...not a hundred percent sure. As much as I love him, Hitoshi can be a secretive guy and only confides in his brother when he needs to. All I know is that one of the main reasons he and Touya bonded so well is that they're both determined and go after what they want. He's just more...calculated."

An unsettling feeling rested in your gut as a knock came from the door.

"Tomuraaaa," came a hoarse voice.

Tomura rolls his eyes and calls out, "It's open!" You heard the door open and you peeked an eye over Tomura's shoulder seeing Yo stumble in. He immediately spots the two of you on the couch and wanders over, collapsing on top. You both grunt as Yo makes himself comfortable.

"What are we talking about?"

Tomura sneers and shoves him off. "We're talking about how you need to go brush your teeth. Didn't you shower and do all of that at Kat and Hitoshi's?"

Yo lays like a dead weight on the floor, not even bothering to get up and he mumbles his reply. "M'passed out as soon as we got there."

Tomura takes a deep breath to calm himself and you move the blanket off to get up. He shifts as well to get up, stepping over Yo and making his way back to the kitchen.

"Let's go get some breakfast," he calls out and the idea has your stomach rumbling. Yo groans and slowly stands up.

"Gimme 10 minutes," he mumbles, wandering to the bathroom as you stand and stretch. Yawning loudly you wobble slightly from the stretch, noticing Tomura staring at you from across the room fondly.

"What?"

"Whoever you pick, they're one lucky piece of shit."

The muffled sound of a shower turns on.

~*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, you found yourself sitting in the same booth as yesterday with Yo and Tomura. The conversation you had with Tomura played like a broken record in your head as you tried to figure out what Touya and Hitoshi's goals were or if there even was a goal.

Everything seemed deeper than what it was and it was all so frustrating and confusing. The table was silent, Yo still clearly hungover as Tomura played on his phone. What may seem like a comfortable silence to them was awkward for you.

You eyed Yo wearily.

He held his head in one hand as he absently drank from a sugary frappucino, staring out the window with strained eyes. Just knowing he was also told of the 7 minutes in heaven situation made your skin crawl. Sure, you haven't had much time to talk with him but-

He knew.

You freeze up next to Tomura remembering that Yo was the one who gave you the truth-or-dare option at the party last night. You almost jerk away, uneasiness settling like a weighted blanket over you.

What was going on? Tomura was there too and tried to calm me down, but what if he's been messing with me too? Is Tomura actually my friend here?

Overthinking everything that's happened in the past few days, you fumble out of the booth, feeling like you couldn't breathe.

"(Y/n)?" Tomura asks, a worried and confused expression on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Restroom," was all you managed to get out before bolting down the hall. Memories of you and Touya against the wall flash vividly in your mind briefly. This time though, you actually enter the restroom and into the nearest stall trying to calm your racing heart.

Breathe, (Y/n). If he had other intentions, he wouldn't have told me that story this morning. He hasn't pushed me towards either of them and has helped talked me through things.

Okay, maybe they all know about the situation and how you and Touya met, but they also know nothing happened. Trying to convince yourself everything was fine, you sigh and think of a way to calmly walk back to the table and maybe get more information out of Tomura and Yo when the restroom door opens.

"-told you he wouldn't care."

A pause.

"He hasn't been with anyone for the past few weeks, of course we're all curious."

The one-sided conversation made it clear a girl was on the phone, and it was painfully obvious who she was talking about.

"Whatever. It's not like she knew if we hooked up that night or not...you're just an ass who wanted her to pick you."

You furrow your eyebrows as it was silent before she snorts a laugh.

"See? Karma is a bitch, huh 'Toshi?" The girl mocks teasingly as your jaw drops open, your heart thudding faster in your chest. She laughs again and says something else you didn't register, too shocked to even breathe. Her saying goodbye tuned you back in as you open the stall door, mustering the courage to walk by and see just who it was.

You meet her gaze in the mirror, watching her eyes widen in shock and freeze in the middle of applying lipgloss.

'Last night was soooooooo fun, baby~'

Saying nothing, you hold her gaze a second longer before walking back out into the donut shop and back to Tomura, a few tears finally sliding down your face.

He notices and puts his phone down in a panic. "What happened?!"

You cross your arms over your chest and stare straight ahead, knowing if you'd look at him, you'd break down.

"Hitoshi can go to hell."

~*~*~*~*

You ditched class and spent time with Tomura and Yo for the rest of the morning. After telling them what you overheard in the bathroom, not only was Tomura livid but Yo seemed pretty upset about bro-code being broken.

He earned himself a slap on the head for that, courtesy of Tomura.

You understood what he meant though. If Hitoshi did what you all suspected him of doing, he also framed Touya. It was sad because even though Touya had a reputation you already knew of, Hitoshi tried to twist it even further.

The girl had come out of the restroom not long after you, dashing through the donut shop to the exit.

"Think she'll tell Hitoshi?" Yo asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Tomura scoffs, looking disgusted. "Let her. I would love to hear how he can talk his way out of this one."

You also asked Yo about the truth or dare question and he said Kat had whispered the idea in his ear and he was too drunk to comprehend anything so he just went with it. Both you and Tomura make a twisted faces and Yo apologizes, saying that he should've never done the keg stand.

You went silent after that, feeling empty while rethinking every situation you had with Hitoshi. Sure, you were torn between him and Touya and you never meant to lead them on so is that why Hitoshi tried to make you pick?

But then to make me feel guilty last night and get mad about the text...?

"-(Y/n)? (Y/n)!" Yo was waving a hand in front of your face looking concerned. Blinking, you snap out of it.

"Hm?"

"We're going to invite Keigo and Touya, is that okay?" It was sweet that Yo asked, but you weren't sure if seeing Touya so soon was a good thing. You needed answers first without him.

"Sure, but I can't miss my next class. I have a project due in less than two weeks that I haven't started." You'd be gone by the time they'd show up anyway.

Tomura nods silently, but you could guess that he saw through your words. "I'll message you and tell you everything." He picks up his phone again and you tell him your username.

decayedy0uth followed you

decayedy0uth: 🩵

You manage to crack a smile and Tomura gives you a hug in the booth. "We'll meet up later, okay?"

Distracted, you leave the donut shop with a headache.

~*~*~*~*

It wasn't a surprise halfway through class you felt your phone buzz. Expecting to see Tomura's message, your heart drops seeing that it was Hitoshi.

brainwxshed: (Y/n) please can we talk

Anger and sadness flared through you again watching him type.

brainwxshed: i can explain eveything i swear. please.

Hesitantly, you start typing back.

you: explain what? that you set up Touya and lied to make yourself seem...better? oh and you had the nerve to get mad at me for coming forward and being honest and truthful about the text i accidentally switched up because i didnt want to see YOU hurt?

you: i dont need an explanation. i understand perfectly.

brainwxshed: nononono that's not it. i mean yes you're completely right, but my intention wasn't to hurt you. or my friends. i really like you.

Funny way of showing it, you thought bitterly.

You don't respond, tapping your pencil against the desk as you tried focusing on your now-abandoned project. Hitoshi keeps typing then stops, his username taunting you.

brainwxshed: can we talk in person? i promise i'll explain myself.

Is the message he finally settles on, making you frown.

you: im in class.

brainwxshed: after...later. i dont care when i just need to talk to you. you can pick the place.

The campus library was the first place that came to mind. It was quiet and had individual study rooms for students.

you: library in 45 minutes. everything, hitoshi.

brainwxshed: i swear. thank you, (Y/n).

It was time to end this once and for all.

~*~*~*~*

Your class ended twenty minutes later and you got to the library early since you kept being pulled away from your project. Snorting softly, you remember just a few days ago if you never went with Keigo and Touya to Hitoshi's dorm, all of this drama would've been avoided and the project could've been finished.

While sitting in one of the individual study rooms, your phone buzzes.

decayedy0uth: okay so touya is pissed. rightfully so, but we had to leave the donut shop earlier and now we're at his dorm trying to calm him down...he kept saying how he promised to give you space but he's worried really wants to check in on you. i missed seeing this side of him...

decayedy0uth: anyways, how are you holding up?

Touya's concern warmed your heart but first...

you: if i tell you, promise not to say anything to anyone.

decayedy0uth: promise.

you: im meeting with hitoshi soon.

decayedy0uth: okay...text me after.

Smiling slightly, you heart his message loving that he always understands.

"(Y/n)?" Hitoshi's voice called out gently, making you turn. He was early. Leaning against the door, his left eye was swollen and sporting a shiny black and blue bruise, his piercing missing. Wincing, you feel some of the anger dissipate. Motioning for him to come in, he does and slightly closes the door behind him before sitting in front of you.

He didn't look good and you were sure you didn't look the greatest either.

Knawing on his lip ring, Hitoshi runs a hand through his wild purple hair before meeting your gaze. "I fucked up."

Your mouth parts slightly, shooting him a 'really?' look, but he keeps talking.

"It's just..." He sighs heavily. "I do like you, and I know how Touya sleeps around and leads girls on. I didn't want you to fall for it and go down the same path. When you came over that one night it seemed like you wouldn't and when Touya left with you..."

He takes a deep breath looking away.

"But he came back and told us how you denied him twice and I thought maybe I had a chance. It sounds selfish, I know. Sex is always the goal for Touya, but later that night when the rest of the guys fell asleep during the movie, Touya and I were still up. Me with my insomnia and him because well...he must've been thinking."

You sit up straighter with this new information.

"He just turned to me and said 'she'll be mine,'" Hitoshi smiles sadly, "obviously I thought he meant just for hooking up and I didn't want to see you hurt. He's done it to enough girls."

His voice shakes.

"He woke up Keigo and they left after that, Yo and Tomura following. When I messaged you later and heard your dorm broke down, I genuinely was offering a place to stay with no ulterior motives. That night after you fell asleep, I did...text Touya, which was immature and stupid to do, but he just texted me the same thing he said earlier."

You scowl at hearing Hitoshi tell Touya you were staying at his place, and he looks away ashamed.

"The girl who said that at the donut shop is a childhood friend of mine. She slept with Touya before and he did the same thing to her that he does to every girl," Hitoshi frowns, clenching his fist. "She was so heartbroken because he told her everything she wanted to hear just so he could get in her bed."

Silence.

"I had to listen to everything my best friend did to her, without a care in the world, only to sleep with her roommate the next night," he swallows heavily before clearing his throat, "anyways, I had told her that I met someone I was interested in and that Touya was also after her. Since she fell victim to Touya before, she said she'd help me out."

By now you were almost in tears again. Both Touya and Hitoshi seemed like they had unresolved tension that needed to be cleared. After hearing what happened to Hitoshi's childhood friend, you could understand the motive and felt bad. It was still fucked up in a way, but you wondered if Touya did that to Hitoshi out of revenge for sleeping with his girlfriend in high school.

Hitoshi was looking at you, unguarded and worn down, clearly waiting for a response.

"I'm going to ask you a question and I want the absolute truth," you say quietly but sternly.

Hitoshi nods.

"Did you sleep with Touya's girlfriend in high school knowing they were together?"

Shock flickers over Hitoshi's face and you could see that he wanted to ask how you knew that, but his eyes fall again, dropping his head into his hands.

"...Yes."

~*~*~*~*

'Hitoshi swirled the drink in his plastic cup, looking out at the crowd of people at the party. The music was too loud, but since his brother is such an asshole-

"Stop looking like that, Hito. It's fine." Katsuki elbowed him roughly, taking a swig of his beer.

"Why are we even here?" Hitoshi groaned playfully.

"What do you mean 'why?' We're graduating high school soon so why not see what we'll be doing next year," Kat grinned manically, eyeing a group of college girls that walk by who giggle when they see him staring.

"I don't think so," Hitoshi said monotoned, but couldn't help but eye the girls as well.

Kat snorts and turns to a group of people who called his name, knowing people who already attended this college.

Hitoshi had to wonder why the hell he agreed to come with his brother. He didn't care for loud noises or large groups of people, but he promised he'd try it. Just this once.

Kat's group of friends introduced themselves to him and he nodded a hello. Kat was just about to say something when a person in the center of the room stood up, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled, "Anyone down to play spin the bottle?!"

A chorus of cheers could be heard and Hitoshi felt his arm being tugged as Kat pulled him towards the crowd.

"Kat!" Hitoshi scolded, not really trying to escape. Once a large circle formed around a table with a single bottle in the center, the guy who suggested the game spun first. Hitoshi watched, intrigued, as the bottle slowly came to a stop in front of him.

The crowd cheered and Kat cackled.

"Truth or dare?" The guy asked.

Hitoshi groaned, annoyed, but a small taunt from Kat in his ear had the spark of a challenge flare in his stomach. He glanced at his evil twin and shot him a glare.

"Dare."

The crowd cheered

The guy who asked grinned. "I dare you to pick someone and do 7 minutes in heaven."

"Holy fuck," Kat wheezes as he claps him on the back.

Hitoshi shifted his stance nervously glancing around the room. He didn't want to pick anyone. These were all college girls and he wasn't someone who could just sleep with just anyone. Glancing around, a familiar face stood out and he watched her walk around the group.

"Hey," Hitoshi called, trying to get her attention. It seemed to work because her head snapped up in fear before recognition flickered in her eyes seeing him. She then realized everyone was staring at her.

"Yeah?" She asked hesitantly.

"Come do 7 minutes with me," Hitoshi said cooly, hoping his eyes were saying that he needs help to get out of this. The crowed 'ooh-ed' his confidence but he glanced at his brother, knowing he recognized her too.

"Okay," she shrugged and dragged Hitoshi into the nearby closet.

"I'll set the timer!" The guy cackled, tossing a condom at Hitoshi before closing the door on them.

Pitch black.

"So-" Hitoshi started before he felt lips on his. Stunned, he stood motionless as she tried to get him to kiss back before pulling away annoyed.

"What?"

"Aren't you dating that one guy from our school?"

"Hm?" She murmured, kissing down his neck instead. Hitoshi bit his lip to suppress a moan.

"You...dating," he murmured, tilting his neck as his head swam with pleasure.

"We broke up," she mumbled back, fumbling with Hitoshi's pants. A few alarms went off in his head, but a soft hand wrapped around him that had them going silent.

Did they really?

Before he could ask again, the girl dropped to her knees and Hitoshi's head fell back against the wall.

"Fuck..."'

~*~*~*~*

"You didn't know!" You exclaim loudly, forgetting you were in the library. The story Hitoshi just told you had you hating this girl with every fiber of your being.

Hitoshi looked even worse than before. "I feel like deep down I did. She was cheating on him before me...that's why she was at that party. She had a college boyfriend...who was there."

"Oh my God? Hitoshi! Please tell me she doesn't go here," you look at him in horror.

Thankfully he shook his head.

"Nah...she got a scholarship to another college."

You sigh in relief, having one less situation to worry about.

"Why didn't you ever tell Touya the truth?" Nothing made sense anymore and you just really needed them to talk.

Hitoshi stares at the table, eyes empty.

"I thought he'd hate me more if I told him I did sleep with her. I didn't know the truth of them still being together until he confronted me later on."

You stand up and lean over the table to cup his face in your hands so you could look him in the eyes.

"She lied to you. To him. Tell him the truth." Your voice was stern as he stared at you brokenly. "C'mon, I'll text Tomura we're on our way."

Packing your stuff quickly, you pull out your phone.

you: tell everyone Hitoshi and I are on our way over. He and Touya need to have a long conversation alone. preferably without fists.

decayedy0uth: oh god...what did you do

you: get the truth.

~*~*~*~*

Hitoshi led the way to Touya's apartment and your feelings were all over the place, but mostly exhausted from everything you learned today. When you two arrive, Hitoshi hung behind you as you knocked on the door.

Keigo opened the door silently, shooting a look at Hitoshi. He let his gaze linger before turning away, leaving you to close the door yourself.

It was deathly silent in the dorm, all of the boys sitting in the living room staring at you and Hitoshi. Awkward wasn't a strong enough word to describe the atmosphere. Your eyes immediately find Touya's and he was seething. His hair was sticking up everywhere from what you could only assume was from him running his hands through it constantly.

Clearing your throat you decide to speak up.

"I don't hate Hitoshi."

All eyes turn to you.

"What he did was...a choice," you turn and give him a pointed look, "but I don't hate him."

"But-" Yo starts to speak, but you cut him off.

"Touya." You call out, meeting his burning gaze. "Hitoshi has something to tell you."

Nudging Hitoshi, he jerks.

"Uh...can we talk in your room? No fists...just words." Hitoshi attempts a grin but it comes off as a grimace.

Touya's eyes flicker to you briefly and you nod once. Silently, he stands up walks towards you two and around, down a long hallway. Hitoshi takes a deep breath and you pat him on the arm gently for reassurance before watching him follow.

You only turn back to the rest of the boys when you hear a door close.

"What truth?" Tomura finally speaks up in regard to your text.

Taking a deep breath you walk over to the couch and sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as your eyes start to become heavy. "'s not my place to say."

You weren't sure if Tomura replied or not because your eyes were already closed. Low muffled voices of Keigo and Yo could be heard as you were lulled into a deep sleep.

~*~*~*~*

"C'mon, (Y/n)," Tomura murmurs. "Let's head back to the dorm." He was shaking you slightly and you grumble, sitting up, realizing you were now laying on his lap.

"What time is it?"

"10 pm," Tomura groans, yawning. That had you waking up more, looking around to see Hitoshi and Touya standing next to each other staring at you.

Both of their intense gazes had you flushing, still not fully awake to process what was going on. It was a relief seeing that they were in one piece and had no new visible bruises.

Standing up you yawn and rub your eyes, seeing that Yo and Keigo took turns giving Hitoshi a bro-hug goodbye.

Shooting a look at Tomura, he catches it and nods slightly with the promise to tell you everything.

Not knowing what to say, you watch Tomura say goodbye to them before turning to you. "We'll wait outside," Tomura says gently, patting your arm before leaving with Yo. Keigo says something about a shower and takes back off down the hall.

Now left in front of them, you don't feel as intimidated as you would've before. Hitoshi opens his arms slightly in question and you smile softly, giving him a hug.

"I don't deserve you," Hitoshi whispers in your ear so soft you almost didn't catch it. He hugs you tighter and you felt your heart clench and drop in confusion. "I'm sorry for everything and for handling it poorly, but you still helped me and saved my friendships."

Just over his shoulder, you see Touya watching fondly with no jealousy or envy in his eyes.

"Thank you, (Y/n)," Hitoshi whispers one last time before pulling away, not before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Your eyes felt watery because it sounded like closure and that this was something he needed to do. Deep down you knew he was doing this for himself and for his own sake, but it still hurt because like you realized, you didn't hate him.

You don't think you ever could.

He sees the look on your face and laughs softly, ruffling your hair. "What's that look for? We're fine. We're all still friends," Hitoshi says and Touya finally comes up next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders.

You stare at them the best you could with blurry eyes, deciding to respond to Hitoshi's comment, hoping he knew you didn't hate him or that you didn't want to stop talking to him. After everything that's happened, you're just happy he made peace with Touya and hopefully the two can move forward.

"I forgive you."

~*~*~*~*

Tomura had basically told you that they were in Touya's room for hours and while you slept they watched a few movies.

"They looked a lot better when they came out," Tomura said as you two curled up under his sheets, "relieved, I mean."

You two had gotten back to the dorm and took turns in the shower before Tomura offered you to sleep in his bed. Sleeping on the couch for a third time did not sound fun.

You hum and listen as he fills you in, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

"Their eyes were swollen too. From crying," Tomura says in awe. "Whatever was talked about was needed like you said." So they didn't tell everyone else yet. Maybe sometime in the future, but right now they needed to process it on their own.

"I'm just happy they're okay now," you confirm, "that everyone is okay."

Tomura rolls on his side to stare at you. "Not to sound pushy but does this situation impact your decision? Or did you decide?"

Hitoshi's words echo in your head.

"I think it was decided for me."

Turning to meet Tomura's questioning gaze you tell him what Hitoshi said. It's strange, but you don't cry this time, and he cuddles you close when you finish.

"Can I tell you something without you getting mad?"

You nod.

"I think having Hitoshi tell you that makes it easier for you to not feel guilty for liking Touya," he whispers.

Rolling that around your head for a while, you sigh and pull away to look at him. "Why are you so perceptive?"

Tomura snorts.

"Psychology major."

"Ah..." That explains it. All the advice and comfort he's shown you made sense now and he was damn good at it too. "I do like Hitoshi, but after he told me about his friend getting involved when on the other end, Touya gave me space. He might've resented Hitoshi before the conversation today, but at least he was equal in letting me choose."

Tomura hums, drowsily.

"I don't think it was decided for you, I just think now you can embrace your true feelings and move forward."

"...Isn't it too soon?" You whisper.

"I'm sure they talked about you, (Y/n)," Tomura's words start slurring. You let it go after that, knowing he was right.

His deep breathing eventually lulled you to sleep.

~*~*~*~*

A few days later you decide to text Touya just to see how he was doing. Although the friend group still met up, you tagging along as your dorm was still not fixed, Touya kept his distance from you, laying off the flirty comments but still included you in conversations. Hitoshi doing the same, but it felt just friendly now. Their friendship wasn’t going back to normal overnight, so the awkwardness was present when everyone was together.

Katsuki met up with everyone at some point and he stuck by his brother’s side, on guard and looking at Touya until they disappeared for a short while, only to come back looking friendlier.

Touya has also cut off his endless supply of girls, which surprised you more than anything. Tomura gently reminds you that Touya had cut off his supply of girls since the first party and smirks when your face flushes red.

Pouting, you pull out your phone.

you: hey how are you doing?

bvrnt.eros: what's with the formalities? we just saw each other a few hours ago?

You roll your eyes.

you: yeah, but we were with everyone else. i didn't have a chance to ask you personally if you've been doing okay...

You saw him type and then stop, biting the inside of your lip not knowing why you felt nervous.

bvrnt.eros: i mean...im as good as i can be i guess. it was a lot to process and it's just weird now.

bvrnt.eros: reflecting back on what i did, i mean. but i should be asking you that question...are you okay?

This is it...

you: well...i've been doing a lot of thinking...and i know you said you'd wait for me and...

Leaving it open-ended you ease into it to see what he says before continuing.

bvrnt.eros: (Y/n)...

you: i just don't want to ruin what you and Hitoshi are trying to rebuild. but i thought about everything and the one thing that stuck out to me was how you always put me first, Touya.

you: and you never lied.

What once was a choice was now abundantly clear.

bvrnt.eros: fuck...

bvrnt.eros: can you come over?

You bolted out of Tomura's dorm without responding, the door slamming shut behind you.

"...Bye?" Yo calls out from the kitchen, a spoon hanging from his mouth in confusion as Tomura grins knowingly, placing his chin on his folded hands.

~*~*~*~*

As soon as Touya opens the door, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard as he stumbles back. That familiar woodsy musk and sandalwood smell invades your senses as you bury your face into his neck.

"Hello to you too," he teases in that flirty voice you've so desperately missed. His arms tighten around your waist, hugging you back as he kicks the door shut with his foot.

The movement put you two off balance and you end up swaying gently and Touya sighs softly, squeezing you tightly. It was just a hug, but it felt more intimate and had all the built-up tension poured into it. Arousal swirled low in your belly just from being pressed up against him.

"Thank you," you mumble against his neck, not missing the shiver when your lips brushed against his skin.

Touya hums and pulls back, moving one hand away from your waist to tilt your chin up. His eyes were low, burning with that smoldering gaze you used to despise.

"I should be thanking you," he murmurs back, eyes tracing every little detail on your face. "I learned a lot in the past few days not only about my past but also what I want for my future."

"Hm? What's that?" You ask dreamily, watching him study you just like he did in the bathroom at Tomura's. He hummed lowly, a grin pulling at his lips as his thumb traced your bottom lip.

You couldn't help but smile back, tilting your head as you leaned closer to him.

"Are you going to kiss me now?" You barely finished whispering the question when his lips finally meet yours. His groan echoed the noise you let out, tightening your hold on him. The almost-kisses were worth it if it meant the real thing would feel like this. Your knees felt weak as his tongue stroked yours, the feeling of a metal ball had you reeling in pleasure.

His hand that was gripping your chin, tilted your head back more as he kissed you deeply, the rush of it wearing off as Touya slowed the pace and took control of it. Your head felt dizzy as he pulled back to bite your bottom lip, smirking slightly before diving back in for another deep kiss.

The whine you let out was embarrassing, but damn him, you forgot he knows what he's doing and that he does it well.

"So pretty..." Touya praises, pulling away to kiss down your neck, marking you up as he tried to find that one spot that would-

"Touya~" You gasp, tilting your head to the side as he marked you, his responding growl making you shift your stance. Without taking his mouth off of you, Touya moves his hands to your ass, picking you up as he walked down a hallway.

"Keigo's not here by the way," Touya murmurs against your neck, which had you coming back to reality a bit, feeling bad you forgot they share a dorm. He kicks open his door and you don't even have time to look around his room before he gently lays you down on his bed.

Pulling away, your eyes were unfocused as you tried to stare back at him. He was above you, eyes lidded and dark as he made sure you were watching him when he took off his shirt. The abs on his stomach catch you off guard as your gaze eventually travels to his broad shoulders and lean but muscular arms.

Tattoos covered his arms and although you couldn't see his back, you could see the edges of ink on his ribcage. Your mouth dries at the sight, knowing that he is always in baggy clothing, so seeing him like this was making you squirm.

He smirked again, placing his hands on either side of your head as he hovers over you. "Like what you see, dollface?"

Narrowing your eyes, you take a deep breath and reach down, grabbing your sweatshirt to pull it off. It didn't sound like Touya was trying to be cocky, but the look of surprise on his face was enough to tell you he forgot who he was dealing with.

That endearing look came back and Touya lowered himself to kiss across your collarbones, kissing down your chest and stomach with a clear destination in mind. "These too, (Y/n)...please." Placing a kiss above the top of your pants, he stares up at you through his wild messy hair.

Did I do that?

Nodding, you give him the permission he needs to strip the rest of your clothes off your body, now only leaving you in your panties. You felt shy, not knowing what to expect as he had a lot of experience. He seemed to sense it though because he kissed your thighs gently.

"So beautiful, (Y/n)," a kiss on your inner thigh, "so perfect..." Touya groaned, this time placing a kiss over your clothed pussy that had your hips jerking. "Nono...please...lemme taste you. Lemme eat this pretty fucking pussy."

His tongue comes out, soaking the fabric as you gasp under him.

"God, (Y/n), ever since that day outside your dorm I felt this pussy throb against my leg and I just wanted to..." A growl leaves him as he pulls your panties to the side, mouth latching onto your clit directly that had your hips coming off the bed. The tongue piercing rolling over your clit had curses falling from you, Touya gripping your thighs tighter as he ate like a starved man.

It was embarrassingly loud how wet you were, the smacking sounds of his mouth against your pussy as he groaned heavily, panting as he leaned up on one arm to use his other hand to part your swollen lips. "Oh fuck~" Touya slid his fingers through you, collecting your wetness as he stroked your clit gently before moving down to your entrance. He looked as far gone as you felt. Leaning his cheek against your thigh, he kisses it once and watches your face as he eases a finger inside.

Your mouth dropped open and your head fell back, "Touya!"

The sound he made in response to you saying his name had you clenching around his finger. "Yeah? Lemme find that spot for you, dollface...wanna make you cum~" He sounded drunk and the heat was building in your core fast, the sounds leaving your mouth long and high.

It felt so fucking good and when a warm and wet mouth attaches itself to your clit again, that finger twisting before curling up had you crying out, gripping his hair as your orgasm washes over you. Touya works you through it, all too happy to be trapped in between your thighs as you ride his face, his mouth following your clit when you tried to get away.

"S-sensitive!" You cry, tears of pleasure blurring your eyes as Touya slowed his suction, a muffled whine vibrating against you.

"Mm...yeah okay, I'm done-" Touya pulls off, sucking your juices before sliding his tongue back to your clit making you squeal his name again. "'M coming up..." he pulls away reluctantly, looking thoroughly fucked out and satisfied.

You couldn't imagine what you looked like, breathing heavily, face flushed. He leans up over you again, kissing you softly and you whine from embarrassment tasting yourself.

"Okay?" He asks gently, pulling back once you two slowed your breathing. Nodding, a genuine smile graces his lips, a dimple appearing on the side of his mouth you've never seen before.

The discovery distracts you long enough to not realize that Touya pulled his pants down and tore open a condom wrapper to roll it on. "I'm going to go slow okay?" He whispers gently, pulling your ruined panties off as he settles in between your legs again.

Your arms wind their way around his neck as he guides his cock to your entrance. He held eye contact as he went deeper, gritting his teeth as your jaw dropped at feeling small bumps move against your inner walls.

"What the fuck-" you whine, shuddering at the realization. The one dream you had days ago flashes vividly in your head and you cover your face with your hands.

"Does it hurt?" Touya asks softly, panting and he gently pried your hands away from your face. He stopped pushing in and you felt dizzy not knowing how much was left or how far he even got.

The difference between this Touya and the one you dreamt about made your heart warm. He looked concerned, thumb stroking your cheek as he waited for you to answer. Taking a deep breath you shake your head and smile.

"I'm okay."

Touya kisses you again, going slow. He takes his time with you, learning what makes you feel good, pulling every moan, gasp, and mewl he could all while staring at you lovingly. He checked on you throughout, making you feel cared for and when he finally brought you to the edge, he held you tightly, whispering praises in your ear as he helped you ride it out. His own groans of pleasure let you know he felt everything you did and enjoyed himself just as much.

After, he cleaned you up and gave you a shirt to borrow as you two cuddled together under the sheets, content and happy. Being in his arms felt safe and after everything that's happened in the past week, all the hell that occurred, being here with Touya...

He felt like heaven.

~*~*~*~*

🚨!!!ATTENTION!!!🚨 All students in the SOUTH dormitories, the heating system has been restored. We would like to extend our sincere gratitude to other students who helped with accommodations. Once again, we deeply apologize for the inconvenience as the safety of our students is the utmost priority-

~*~*~*~*

Touya's hitlist taglist:

@spaceisout @deputy-videogamer @magpiesworld @blahblahblahhhhhhhhhhhhhh @mod-hadagile @whokillednyx @ittybittywallflower @bubblewordsofsodapop @poopiepoopie123 @frontier-renegade @windex-princess-ami @yourfavoriteloover @ashash @shamefulwitch @allthingsleviackerman @97britt @joyhdh @fallingmoon02

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macnevercries · 2 months

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i can't stop thinking about Hawks getting pissed during an interview where another pro hero makes a remark about how Hawks pretty little sidekick could do so much better at their agency,,, and he has to sit there and play nice but once it's over hes allllllllllll over her,,,,, yea <3

I was at a con when I got this request and it got me giggling out loud and shit.

This took so long to write because I had writer's block, but I hope you like it <3

Warnings: the tiniest bit of spice, basically just enhanced making out, I tried to make this one a bit more fluffy, language, a random oc because I couldn't really think of any other pro-heroes within the age range who were assholes

Word Count: 2.5k

"And now for our next set of guests, I would firstly like to introduce the primary reason that half of our female viewers tuned in tonight."

The live audience erupted into applause as the pro made his way onto the stage, waving a hand before running it through perfectly-styled golden bangs.

The host, a middle-aged man with strikingly purple hair met him halfway. "Hawks, how are you doing tonight?"

"I'm doing great." He smiled, perfectly aware of how easily that grin could melt hearts. "Happy to be here."

"We're happy to have you!" The host reflected his expression, flashing a set of teeth that were so flawlessly white it was almost unnerving. "And next up, we have another hero slowly climbing up the ranks, the Hound Hero, K-Nine!"

Another man hopped on to the stage, earning another round of cheers from the crowd in front of him.

Umber hair had been wrapped into an unkempt bun, matching the deep shade of his eyes. He could be considered pretty attractive, Hawks supposed, if you could look past the ears poking past the up-do.

Although he didn't know the hero's legal name, nor did he care enough to look it up beforehand, he was ninety perfect positive that it started with the letter 'K.'

Cheesy, but he wouldn't judge. He'd been known to appreciate a good pun.

What he didn't appreciate was that fact that he PR rep had dragged him to another interview on his supposed day off.

Still, he was better than most at keeping up appearances, flashing that heart-stopping grin and throwing in a clever comment when the time called for it.

The host asked the usual questions, the similarities to K-Nine and himself, even though he was sure that those ended at their shared animal-based quirks and the fact that they were both in their mid twenties. Regardless, anyone with eyes would see that the two could barely be considered to be on the same level, something that brought an air of dullness to the interview.

As usual, the winged pro found it difficult to pay attention, leg bouncing in anticipation of how long he would be stuck here. That was one of the less-apparent downsides of being someone who prominently valued speed; sitting through such monotonous situations was quite the feat.

Instead, he droned out the voices as the men across from him started to discuss the importance of sidekicks.

And that's when he heard your name.

He perked up, immediately recognizing that K-Nine was staring in his direction, wolfish grin only accentuated by the sharpened canines poking out from under his lips. "I gotta say, I'm jealous."

Hawks cocked an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Nodding, the brunet allowed the surface-level authenticity to settle for a moment. "Someone as cute as that? I don't know how anyone there manages to get work done."

It was almost unnoticeable, practically unseen over the televised pixels many were watching through. Regardless, the slight tense of his wings in pure irritation was undeniable.

So, that's what this was about.

Forcing a smile, he replied. "Considering our criminal apprehension rates, I think you'd be surprised."

K-Nine leaned back into his chair, haughty expression flickering between the good-hearted playfulness he was supposed to be exuding. "All I'm saying is a pretty little thing like that could do a lot better at my agency."

Golden eyes narrowed slightly as the connotation, fingers digging into the plush sofa as he used every bit of mental strength to will the spite from his tone. "As far as I know, all of my sidekicks are perfect content to work with me. Just like I'm sure yours are happy to work with you. Not sure how they handle all the fleas, though."

The cluster of people in front of him busted into laughter, and he joined, but the sound seemed to be laced with a soft malice if you managed to listen hard enough.

Playing nice for the public was one of his strong suits, and considering his resilience in a long-term business relationship with Endeavor, he could rightfully say that he was able to handle difficult personalities.

All that tolerance seemed to fly out the window when it came to you.

And the hero across from him either had the social recognition skills of a goldfish, or was too dumb to care.

Regardless, K-Nine turned to the audience. "Come on, I've got a chance, right?"

Some man in the crowd let out a whistle and Hawks felt a compelling urge to hurl a shoe at his nose.

"Speaking of romance," the host verbally silenced the room, making Hawks more grateful than he thought momentarily possible, "I've got to ask, anyone special worthy of a mention?"

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, the inquiry signaling the closure of the interview, which had seemingly gone on for a few decades at the very least.

It was always like this, the same question would be asked, and then he'd give the same bullshit-answer about the love from his fans being more than enough.

Fuck, how great would it be if he threw your name into the mix.

That'd shut that arrogant mutt up real quick, that's for sure.

But he'd keep his mouth shut, if not for his own benefit, but for yours.

With your take-down rate, it was blatantly how talented you were as a hero and, even if it wouldn't be many, Hawks would be damned if anyone questioned your acceptance into his agency.

In all honesty, he had initially recognized your power and intelligence, traits that had gotten you the job in the first place.

It was in those first few months that he had begun to realize how much he liked you, how much he liked to watch you kick ass, or how pretty you were, even if it was preposterously early in the morning.

So he'd stay quiet, if only to keep a few impudent naysayers off your back.

Not to mention that you might wring his neck.

Instead, Hawks sat simmering with annoyance on that plush sofa until the cameras were cut and he was forced to shake hands, first with the host, then with his fellow interviewee for the night, the latter receiving the tiniest bit more squeeze.

The night was cold but he opted to fly back to his agency, allowing the chill tangle through his hair and hopefully disperse some of the vexation he desperately needed eradicated.

Besides, driving would mean lesser access to his office skylight, which also meant a long-ass elevator ride that he didn't have time for.

It was unlocked, thankfully, and he slipped into the room. He moved to shrug off his jacket, but paused, double taking at the light blooming under the thin fracture between his door and the marble flooring.

Obviously, he wasn't scared. Anybody would have to be pretty idiotic to attempt robbing a place belonging to the number 2 hero, and even more so to leave a light on.

Regardless, he stayed quiet, hoping to avoid an unnecessary interaction with a coworker he didn't have the patience for, and crept around the corner, expression softening a bit at what he saw.

It was you.

You were huddled over your desk, typing furiously at some important looking document. The computer screen illuminated your features, casting a dull glow over the otherwise unlit room.

Hawks recognized the soft tense of your eyebrows every few seconds, the way that you would pause to collect your thoughts because issuing that recognizable click-clack of your keyboard in focused chunks of writing.

He leaned back on the wall, arms crossed as he watched you work with a fond grin gracing his features.

After a while, you sighed, taking a moment to rotate the stiffness beginning to take place in your neck. Your gaze lazily flit over the room and you jumped. "Fuck!"

"Wow, that took you forever, sweetheart," he sighed, tilting his head in a teasing inquiry. "Do we need to work on awareness skills with the other sidekicks?"

"If you're gonna keep lurking behind corners like the boogeyman, then probably." You rolled your eyes, allowing his petname to settle in your mind. "And I thought I told you not to call me that during work."

"Why? Because you get all blushy and embarrassed?" He pushed off the wall, strolling over and nestling his head on your left shoulder.

You tensed a bit as he arms snaked over that of the chair, hands wrapping around your torso. "I don't."

The hero laughed, pulling at your cheeks like he could feel the heat creeping into him. "Work hours are over anyway. Which means that you should be here."

"I need to finish this report." You nodded to the screen as if to prove your point, eyes narrowing as he continued to bury his face into your neck. "Are you okay?"

He paused, eyebrows furrowing as he backed away. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You get extra clingy when you're upset. Did something happen at the interview?"

So, you hadn't seen it.

"How dare you," the faux-hurt lacing his tone was a stark contrast to the satisfaction he felt knowing that you were close enough to recognize some of his physical tellers. Still, you didn't need to know that. "I do wonderful in interviews."

You smiled and he felt his heart melt. "Well, I'm just going to have to check and make sure."

Saving the work on your current tab, you moved your mouse to open up a new one before finding YouTube, which would most likely already have clips of the program uploaded. You were barely hovering over the search bar when the man all but threw himself on to your lap, arms latching themselves around your waist. "Don't. There were so many annoying people there."

"I thought you had an avian quirk," you groaned, arms straining as you tried to detach his. "If you had boa constrictor powers then I would've liked to know."

He glanced up, eyes wide and oddly reminiscent of a child waking up his parents in the middle of the night. "I'll let you stay and work overtime if you let me hang out here for a while. It's been a very long day."

"Oh, I'm sure it has." You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

Despite the sarcasm, you succumbed to his request, letting go of his annoyingly firm grasp in favor of continuing to finish your report. Hawks found himself relaxing into your thighs, overly hyper brain surprisingly calmed with the muted tapping of your keyboard.

After a few more minutes, you shifted, pushing his unsuspecting form onto the floor and giving a laugh at the pout overcoming his face. "Bathroom. I'll be two minutes, at the very most."

It was, in fact, just past one-hundred and twenty seconds by the time you returned. The hero was currently taking up occupancy in your swivel chair, oblivious to the confusion at which you glaring at your phone with.

"Do you somebody named Kano Kirisaki?" You asked.

"Who?" He asked without looking up.

"The Hound Hero. He's somewhere in the late sixties on the charts, I think?" Despite your career as a pro-sidekick, you weren't exactly overly concerned with the rankings.

"Oh," he replied, ignoring the urge to add a 'called it.' A tic of annoyance threatened to emerge on his forehead, but he did his best to ignore it. "What about him?"

"I just got a text. The guy said that you gave him my number. Is that true?"

That made him pause.

"He said what?" The vexation simmering in his copper gaze was downright terrifying, only extenuated by the slow upturn of his chin as his eyes met yours.

"Apparently not." You made a beeline for the door, device still in hand and fingers typing away. "I'll just let him know that-"

Something whizzed past your face and you came to an abrupt halt, feeling the breath of air over your cheek as the object whirled by and just barely missed you.

You blinked, taking a moment to recognize what had just happened. You hadn't been hit, but the object previously in your hand?

Less lucky.

Spinning around in shock, you were met with the stupefied face of Hawks, who was currently staring in horror at the item stuck in the wall and the feather protruding out of it.

He just skewered your phone.

You turned again, silently walking over and yanking the hardened plume out before inspecting the damage. The screen had been shattered, the back cameras also blown to bits from the harsh impact.

"Oh, fuck." The hero stood, movements quick and panicked as he ran over to you. "Oh, shit. I am so sorry."

"What the fuck?" The sentence was less of an aggressive statement, more of an actual, bewildered question. Seeing as how completely flabbergasted you were, it was almost hard to be genuinely angry for the first few seconds.

"I swear, I don't know why I did that," he assured, running a hand through his hair in alarm. "But I'll get you a new one. That model was kinda old anyways."

You scoffed. "Oh, thank goodness. I was hoping to get a replacement. How wonderful that you happened to impale this one."

His arm caught yours as you turned to leave, forcing your line of sight to meet his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Against your best efforts, you felt your chest lighten a bit at the tenderness he was regarding you with. It was almost impossible to stay cold when the guy you had been admiring for weeks was looking at you like that. "I just don't... I just need you to know that you can be honest with me. I don't know what's wrong, but if there's anythi-"

Your eyes shot open as his mouth smashed against yours, taking a pause before fluttering to a close.

One of his hands curled into your hair, the other finding its way around your waist. His kiss traveled over your jaw, trailing until it was above your collarbone.

With his enhanced senses, it was easy to tell what areas you were most sensitive. He relished in every pleasured breath, the way your heart rate would speed up when he bit down ever so gently.

It took a tangible amount of self-control to keep himself from jumping you when the smallest whine fell from your lips. Instead, he lifted his leg in between your thighs, watching your form falter as a spark of warmth shot through your abdomen.

You around an arm across his shoulder, an attempt to steady yourself as you watched him pull away, arrogant grin gracing his features and eyes glowing softly. Their soft luminescence was nothing less than beautiful and you silently questioned why you hadn't scheduled more late night patrols. His fingers grazed underneath your shirt, tickled the skin of your waist with their gentle warmth.

The breath had escaped your lungs, but it was nearly impossible to keep the smile from your features. "What the fuck happened in that interview?"

Hawks chuckled, touch brushing over the small mark on your collarbone that he had left behind. His heart jumped at the thought of leaving more, leaving zero questions about who you belonged to. "Nothing that you need to worry about, sweetheart."

It was less than a day by the time you got your new phone.

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macnevercries · 2 months

Text

Sealed With A Kiss | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Didn’t think I’d write anything for Bakugou’s birthday and then a random idea popped into my head and I wrote it all in one sitting. It’s been months since I’ve started and finished a fic, so please be kind! And Happy Birthday, Bakugou!💕

Summary: Not everyone wants the quirk that they’re given. Ever since you were a child, you were cursed with a quirk where you’re able to see how someone will die when you kiss them. Unsure on whether your quirk is telling the future, or sealing their fate with a kiss of death, its safer for you to completely give up on finding love. Coming to terms over the years that you’ll have to watch all your friends get married and settle down, while you spend the rest of your life alone. That is, until you run into Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings: 18+, minimal plot, mostly smut, no beta, praise, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sex, protected sex, not as angsty as I thought it’d be!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 6.4k.

What would you do if you could tell someone the exact time and way that they’re going to die? Would you share that information with them, hoping that they can get their affairs in order and live those final moments to the fullest before kicking the bucket? Or would you keep quiet about it, holding onto the information as though it’s a sordid little secret that needs to be buried and taken to your own grave?

Not that it matters anyway, because even if you held that information no one would believe you anyway, would they? Telling someone that they’re going to die in a car accident when they don’t even drive, or that they die during a snowstorm in July. It’s like people only ever believe what they want to hear, and it’s the same reason why even your best friend doesn’t know about your quirk. Imagine if you’d proved it, writing down your prediction and then waiting for it to happen. Counting down the days like you’re waiting for an exciting event, not waiting for someone to die. And then what? Someone dies and people want you to do it again, to prove that it wasn’t just a fluke. And then what? You’re kissing every single person that comes along just to tell them that they’re not going to make it to their next birthday?

Quirks should be a blessing, but yours was most definitely a curse.

“You know you really should start trying to settle down, you’re not getting any younger.” You could practically feel the disdain in their tone as you tried to avoid the question by taking a sip of your drink.

“You act like she’s going to die soon,” Your best friend Tatami laughed, shaking her head, “She’s got plenty of time.”

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. You should scoff at the saying, but in this instance, it was very much true. The entire Hen party was made more awkward by the fact that you didn’t like any of your best friends friends’. All socialites that would give up your deepest, darkest secrets to further themselves and get their names plastered all over the latest tabloids. You were lucky enough to have known her since childhood, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Keep reading

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macnevercries · 2 months

Text

high for this — happy bday bkg !

— bakugou x kirishima x fem!reader

‘“Then hit it,” your voice lilts in his ear, a hand coming down to rest on his thigh while the other one brings the joint closer to his face. “Please? Promise we’ll take good care of you.”

His cheeks heat up at that, the implication all too present in the sultry inflection of your voice. In the way your bodies press against either side of him.’

☆ WORD COUNT | 12.2K

☆ SYNOPSIS | Bakugou shares a birthday with weed but he’s never smoked it before. He’s also never fucked you and Kirishima at the same time before. A birthday 2-for-1 special!

☆ CONTAINS | [+18!] quirkless/college au, drug use (weed), alcohol mention, dubcon due to the previous, bi threesome (emphasis on the bi), oral for everyone, double blowjob, spit!!!, facefucking, degradation + degrading names, praise, voyeurism, size kink, frotting, a lot of cum, anal play/rimming, anal sex, piv sex, daisy chain, some roughness, creampie, cum eating, squirting, kiri + bkg interact a lot, some softdom!kiri but switchy behavior all around, kinda imperfect poly dynamics, reader referred to as “girl” + she/her + has hair long enough to be pulled back, bkg gets slutted out ~

☆ NOTES | i know — i know ! this is very late. i hope i make up for it with the fact that this is basically all filth. there are non-monogamous dynamics here that are nuanced and a little messy, possibly confusing… but it’s not really the focus, it’s mostly just a lot of sexy fun. so i hope it’s still enjoyable! happy belated bday to the great explosion murder god himself ♡

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ CROSSPOSTED TO AO3 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Come on, just one hit won’t kill you.”

White smoke curls up around your lips like tantalizing little vines, snaking through the air until it dissipates into the growing fog in your living room. You’re leaned in close on the couch, joint perched between your fingers and mischief mixing with the hazy look on your face.

Bakugou scoffs at you, but it’s softened by the few too many drinks you and his friends had pushed on him earlier in the night. And his ever-growing affection for you.

“Oh don’t pressure him,” Kirishima pipes up from behind the couch, big hand coming down on Bakugou’s shoulder and squeezing, “he’s the birthday boy, he can do what he wants.”

You pout up at the redhead. “That’s exactly why he should hit it.”

Normally, Bakugou would snap at you to stop fuckin’ talkin’ about him like he’s not here, something you both have become far too comfortable doing, but his sharp tongue seems to smooth out a bit when he’s alone with the two of you. Plus, he’s in a good mood.

The day was… great, to say the least. Not too much of a fuss. Just drinks at a low-key bar nearby, and gifts that weren’t extravagant enough to make Bakugou feel awkward. And you and Kirishima had helped get him out of there before Kaminari and Mina could corral everyone into hitting up a strip club, or whatever other ridiculous shit their drunk minds could think up. Honestly, his birthday had been perfect. Not that he’d tell you both that. But he knows he doesn’t need to.

You rise up on your knees, bringing the joint to Kirishima’s lips to let him puff at it. You’re both crowded around him, Kiri’s broad chest brushing against the back of his head, and your cleavage so close to his cheek that he could turn his face and be buried in it. He watches you in his peripheral, tits bouncing lightly as you giggle when Kiri coughs and retreats towards the kitchen for water. When you lower back down into the couch, you’re giving him a knowing look, and he fights the urge to reach out and squish your cheeks in his hand.

You infuriate him, in your own awful, annoying, endearing way — you always have, ever since Kirishima first brought you into their lives. Somehow that has led him here, unimaginably comfortable splayed out on this couch in yours and Kirishima’s shared apartment – an apartment he, admittedly, spends more time in than his own.

Leaning forward over the coffee table to tap the ash off the joint, you continue your devious nagging. “You share a birthday with weed and you’ve never even tried it. It’s unnatural.”

“Weed does not have a fuckin’ birthday,” he grunts, watching your glossy lips wrap around the thin stick once more. “And Kirishima’s hair is unnatural, you don’t seem to give a shit about that.”

You press on, ignoring the quip. “Uhh weed does have a birthday. And you’re twins. Happy birthday to you both.”

Bakugou snorts, waves away the smoke that swirls up between you, “That shit’s makin’ you sound even dumber than usual.”

“Well it’s making you look less ugly than usual.”

“Ugly, huh? Guess weed turns you into a dummy and a liar.”

Chips and water bottles plop down on the coffee table, interrupting your playful squabbling as Kirishima re-enters the room.

“You don’t gotta do it if you’re scared, bro. I get it, I was super nervous when I first smoked.”

Bakugou scowls over at his friend where he’s settling in on the other side of him. “‘M not scared.”

“Then hit it,” your voice lilts in his ear, a hand coming down to rest on his thigh while the other one brings the joint closer to his face. “Please? Promise we’ll take good care of you.”

His cheeks heat up at that, the implication all too present in the sultry inflection of your voice. In the way your bodies press against either side of him.

The unspoken suggestion isn’t entirely out of left field. The nature of your triangular relationship is… confusing. More than platonic, less than romantically committed — at least where Bakugou is concerned. But what isn’t confusing is the fact that he already knows both of your bodies intimately, and you his. (Kirishima even more so than you.)

But he hasn’t known them both at the same time — a fact that has been looming over all three of you for months now.

Apparently you and Kiri have decided that today would be the day. A birthday present for the hot-head you’ve absorbed into your relationship.

Or maybe you were absorbed into his and Kirishima’s?

The details are muddled static in Bakugou’s brain, his nerves making his mind race as you both watch him expectantly.

“Bro, you really don’t have to if you don’t—“

He’s cut off by an exasperated growl. “If I hit it, will you both shut up?”

Kiri grins, and the corners of your mouth twitch up, bringing the the joint back into view.

He plucks it from your hand, grumbling that he can do it himself as he brings the papery tip to his lips. Kirishima’s good-natured warnings about not hitting it too hard fall on deaf ears as Bakugou breathes in deep… and immediately sputters a cough into the crook of his arm. You snort and take the offending stick back, Kiri opening a water bottle and handing it over with mumbles of something just a bit nicer than “I told ya so”.

When the coughing fit dies down, there’s a heaviness settled over him, like invisible weights strapped to each of his limbs. His chest burns, and his head is foggy, and Bakugou isn’t sure he really likes the feeling — but then Kiri’s thigh presses against his as he relaxes further into the couch, and you run your hand over his bicep while you ask if he’s ok, and every little touch makes his whole body tingle. And Bakugou… finally gets why people like this shit.

You giggle, and he realizes he’s said that last bit out loud. “See, feels nice, right?”

Time seems to start dragging on a bit slower as the high really settles into his bones, and he feels somehow both profoundly relaxed, and buzzing right down to his nerve-endings all at once. You continue puffing away at the joint, absentmindedly playing with Bakugou’s hair as Kiri puts something on the tv before turning and gesturing for you to pass the weed over. Shaking your head at your boyfriend, you instead beckon him towards you with a crook of your finger. A saucy little “c’mere…” reeling him in closer as you take another big drag from the joint.

The both of you lean over the blonde’s lap, faces coming together just inches in front of his. Bakugou is hyper-focused on the sliver of space between your lips — the way yours purse to blow a slow stream of milky smoke, and Kiri’s fall open to accept your gift. So close, a simple swipe of tongue could connect you. It’s an intimate exchange, thick with a sensuality that Bakugou swears is coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

It feels like ages before the two of you finally pull away, and his eyes follow Kirishima as he settles back on his right. Red brows raise at him curiously, chest puffing out as he inhales the smoke a bit deeper. Bakugou is staring, he knows he is. He can’t help it. His friend has always been easy on the eyes — pretty, even. Although, if he ever told him that, he knows he’d chuckle nervously and deny it. So he just stares silently, and thinks it. But Kirishima has an uncanny way of reading his thoughts, better than anyone else in his life.

And this time is no different, amusement pulling up the corners of Kiri’s mouth, boldness guiding his calloused hand to the back of the blonde’s neck as he leans in. There’s a split second of confusion, Bakugou’s mind wading through the molasses of his high to try and catch up with what’s going on, but then Kiri is blowing the smoke still in his lungs right into the space between his lips.

From you, to Kirishima, to him. A link of breaths, an unconventional chain made up of musky smoke and sighs and things unspoken. It tastes nice on Bakugou’s tongue. It doesn’t burn his chest like his first hit did. It’s been cooled in the exchange, the harsh bite of it taken away with each pass from mouth to mouth, leaving him with something light and comfortable and warm.

Bakugou wonders if he deserves that.

Kirishima’s lips brush softly against his. Silent reassurance that he does.

And then, as things tend to do when you’re high and horny, one thing simply leads to another. It’s a whirlwind of kisses and wandering hands, and then the kisses become deeper, bleeding into each other, and the hands wander further, their touch melting together. And Bakugou ends up turned around to face you with Kirishima at his back.

Your tongue in his mouth is familiar, and yet entirely new, and in this state the contrast between kissing you and his best friend becomes even more obvious. While the man behind him feels rugged against his skin, he always kisses gingerly at first, maneuvering slowly, tenderly, like he’s savoring it. Like he’s handling something delicate and skittish.

You, on the other hand, have lips like velvet, skin supple and smooth where he cradles your face. But you suck harshly and nip at him, pull at his bottom lip with your teeth and smile devilishly when he hisses.

Where Kirishima is hard, you’re soft – and where you’re rough, he’s gentle.

You’re halfway onto Bakugou’s lap, straddling one of his thighs and raised up on your knees so he has to tilt his head up to you. Holding his face in your hands, you lick eagerly into his mouth, suck at his tongue when you feel it slide against yours. That pulls a soft groan from his chest, and his hips grind just a bit against your thigh, giving you a preview of his desire in the form of a poke.

One of your hands trails down the side of his neck, over the muscular slope of his chest and the firm valley of his stomach until it’s found its target on the inside of his thigh. Bakugou can’t help but moan when you press your palm into his cock where it’s currently throbbing against him, trapped uncomfortably in the leg of his jeans.

“So hard already,” you murmur against Bakugou’s mouth as you rub your hand up and down his length.

“He’s been hard since we started smoking,” Kiri chimes in between wet kisses to his neck.

Bakugou glares back with a lighthearted huff. “Always starin’ at my fuckin’ dick, Red.”

A low chuckle. “Yeah? Am I in trouble?”

“You fuckin’— agh!”

Kirishima bites down on his shoulder, just hard enough to make the blonde’s mouth fall open, and you seize your chance to swallow the sound.

It would be embarrassing, how well the pair of you are currently playing Bakugou like a tuned-up instrument, but the weed has his mind so fogged that all he can feel is the pleasurable heat simmering in his veins. The plushness of your skin in his palms as he runs them over your waist, and the firmness of his childhood friend’s well-built body against his back, and both of your hands and mouths all over him all at once — it’s more than he can handle. So he just lets himself lean further into Kirishima’s familiar hold and watches with heavy-lidded eyes as you pull his shirt over his head and start working his jeans down his legs.

“Gonna let us take care of you, right, birthday boy?” Your voice is a siren song in his ear, gravelly from the smoke you’d inhaled, pitched down with temptation. The snarky comment you’d usually receive in return is lost to a pleasured little nnghh when you lower yourself down and press your warm mouth to his cock through his briefs, flick your tongue out to taste the growing wet spot on the fabric. Then you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband, watching gleefully when you free the rigid length from its confines and it bobs up to hit his toned stomach with a slap.

All the while Kirishima’s calloused hands explore, tender in their travels, ghosting over scars and squeezing lovingly at the spots that make him crazy (his waist, his pecs, the inner part of his thighs). He hooks his chin over the blonde’s shoulder and licks his lips hungrily at the sight of his cock, which is jumping in frustration as you kiss teasingly over his thighs.

It’s flushed a heated pink at the tip and oozing dews of precum that are simply too pretty to ignore, so Kiri dips his finger in it, spreads the sticky substance around the head to make it shine before raising his hand back up and watching a thick, clear thread stretch before snapping.

“Bein’ so good for us,” Kiri murmurs under his breath, a secret for them to share, and brings his finger to his own mouth to taste the salty arousal on it. He rubs the mix of saliva and pre over Bakugou’s nipple, rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. “Let us know if this is too much, ok?”

And it is too much, but not in a way that’s unpleasant. So Bakugou responds with only a shuddered breath and his head falling back on the redhead’s shoulder, heavy with his high and the creeping heat of pleasure as you finally drag your tongue up the underside of his cock. He lets the bigger man turn his face to the side with a gentle hand, slots his mouth with his in a slow, hungry kiss.

He’s pulsing against your tongue, impossibly hard and aching for the feel of your mouth, and still you take your time. Licking coyly around the head, letting it leak right onto your tastebuds. Bakugou finally finds his voice again to curse down at you, and it comes out hoarse, whinier than you’ve ever heard him.

“Stop bein’ such a damn cock tease.”

You chuckle, but relent, abandoning your teasing to finally sink your lips down on him. It lights Bakugou on fire, his toes curling and nails digging into Kiri’s forearms where they’re wrapped around his torso. So sensitive. You bob your head up and down slowly at first, then faster, slurping and sucking until you’ve gotten it nice and sloppy – which is when Kiri’s hands come to gather your hair out of your face, holding it all back in one fist and using the other to grip Bakugou’s dick tightly, stroke him right into your mouth.

You moan approvingly at the addition of your boyfriend’s hand, a sweet little mmnnn that rings out from your throat and vibrates down Bakugou’s length right to his very core. The sound joins the noisy schlickschlick of Kirishima pumping his hand up and down, the movements practiced and effortless as he grips and twists, squeezing more and more precum from the tip for you to eagerly swallow. You stick your tongue out, let Kiri slap the head against it with a cheeky smile spreading your lips and exposing your teeth, far too pleased with the way Bakugou is trying his best to stifle his own moans and keep his hips from rolling.

Wrapping your lips back around the thick cock being jerked off in your face, you hollow your cheeks and suck hard, making your shared victim curse brokenly. You and Kiri exchange a conspiratory look, and then he’s grinning sleepily down at you.

“How’s his cock taste, pretty girl?”

Your lashes flutter and you make a sound that could be “so good” if it wasn’t completely muffled by skin, refusing to pop it back out of your mouth for even a moment to answer. Your boyfriend chuckles, feeling his own cock stir at watching the enthusiastic way in which you suck someone else’s – but his own needs can wait.

“Need some help down there?”

An earnest nod from you, and then Kirishima is shifting carefully from behind the near boneless body in front of him, sinking down onto his knees beside you to properly assist in servicing the birthday boy.

You continue sucking while keeping your gaze on Kiri, now close enough that you can make out the inky dilation of his pupils, the lustful flush on his cheeks. And he watches you, enamored, hypnotized by your fuck-me eyes and the way your lips pout and your cheeks hollow — his sweet little girlfriend with a nasty little mouth.

“Y’look so pretty with a cock in your mouth,” he muses, and saliva pools in his own when you hum your appreciation and trace your lips down the side of Bakugou’s shaft, giving him access to the other side. He leans in, licks up a pulsating vein with a groan. The taste is distinctly Bakugou, heady and musky and manly. And it’s distinctly you, sweet like those drinks you order, light like your flavored gloss. He goes back for another taste, and then your tongues are dancing in unison over Bakugou’s dick.

“Jesus fuck, that’s so— fuckin’ good—“ Bakugou’s words are clipped and strained as you both slather his dick with your spit. Up and down, up and down the length of him, until you’re meeting at the top and tangling together in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss around the head.

It’s messy, uncoordinated, drool coating both of your lips and smearing across chins and cheeks. Wet sounds and muffled moans fill the air as you make out with a dick wedged between you. It’s a sight Bakugou had never known he needed to see, but now he’s watching intently, jaw slack and lids heavy, wanting to burn the image into his memory. If his brain wasn’t so scrambled he’d pull out his phone and hit record, keep the moment in his pocket for him to fuck his fist to later.

Wrapped up in the kiss, you both pull away, your hand finding the blonde’s cock to stroke it as you continue exploring Kiri’s mouth. The twist and pull of your palm is slippery, but not slippery enough, so you break the kiss and stick your tongue out. And Kirishima understands exactly what you want, making a show of placing his big hands on either side of your face and tilting it up for him, pressing his lips together and letting spit flow freely down onto your waiting tongue. You turn with a glint in your eye, letting his saliva mix with your own behind your lips before spitting it all out to coat Bakugou’s dick.

A thought flits through his mind about the three-way hit from earlier, but it fizzles out as soon as you suck him sloppily back into your mouth. “Awh, fuck–”

And then Kiri’s tongue is lapping at his balls, and Bakugou’s head sinks back on the couch cushions. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“

He feels like jelly, melting right into both of your hungry mouths. Nothing but the sensation of slick lips and warm tongues, and silky spit rolling down his balls and seeping between his thighs. You and Kiri are switching back and forth, sharing him between you like it’s an everyday couple’s activity, one you’re both especially passionate about doing together. It’s insane — you’re both insane, hell-bent on turning him into a puddle right there on your living room couch.

And Bakugou is a puddle, splayed out on the cushions, panting with his head thrown back and his arms crossed over his face, just lost in it. Until Kirishima suddenly sinks his teeth into his inner thigh.

“Agh—!”

Bakugou’s hips jerk involuntarily at the bite, ramming his cock up into your throat as his gaze is forced back to you both kneeled before him. The sound of you gagging stirs Kiri on, and he places a big hand on the back of your neck to keep you in place before delivering another, harsher bite to his friend’s thigh. Another buck of the blonde’s hips and your eyes begin to water. But you look up at him, and through the sparkle of your wet lashes is an expression completely glazed over with lust.

Bakugou sneers down at you, suddenly stirred on just like Kiri. “Y’like that shit?” You don’t have to respond (not that you can, with his girth filling out your mouth), he knows very well how much you do. “Here, take it then.”

And then there are two more hands holding you down, steady against the back of your head to make sure you can’t move away as Bakugou rolls his hips up towards your face.

“Stick your tongue out, like that, yeah–”

You obey, and he grunts his approval as he fucks your mouth like it’s nothing more than a warm, wet toy. It’s slow, lazy, but hard and invasive, cock dragging back and forth along your tongue, pumping precum so deep it feels like you might choke on it. Your throat spasms and aches as it takes the sudden beating from his cock head prodding at it, a copious amount of drool filling your mouth as your body’s natural attempt at lubricating. It bubbles around your lips, drips down in thick globs onto his lap.

And that’s what Bakugou wanted, really, the mess – to see the way tears roll down your cheeks and spit smears on your lips, the way you seem to go perfectly dumb for his dick. It’s cute, honestly, and he can’t help but tell you so, filth tumbling from his mouth as he uses yours to get off.

“So fuckin’ cute,” he says between ragged breaths, “so cute when you’re chokin’ on me. Fuck, yeah, keep that mouth open–”

You’re doing your best to breathe through your nose, taking the rough treatment while trying not to drown in your own spit, when Bakugou suddenly stills his hips and gives your head a hard push down.

“All the way down, like a good little slut,” he grunts, angling his hips up to try and invade your esophagus, feel how tight it is around his aching cock. There’s still so much of him your mouth can’t fit, and you gag hard, instinctually trying to pull off. But you’re met with the resistance of not two, but three strong hands.

Kirishima pushes gently, but firmly, at the back of your neck, coaxing you to take his best friend’s cock further down your throat with coos of encouragement. “There ya go baby,” his voice is husky and dark in your ear, eyes blown and pink-tinged as he watches more of Bakugou’s length disappear past your swollen lips, “be a good girl and swallow that dick.”

And then something in your throat gives, and your eyes roll back in your head as your lips finally meet a sticky pelvis, nose nuzzling into a dewy nest of dirty-blonde pubes.

“Ugh– there it is, fuck yeah–” Bakugou groans, deep and guttural as he pumps shallowly up into your throat, the visible bulge in your neck making Kirishima echo him with a lewd groan of his own. The only sounds you can muster are gurgles – besides the obscene wet gluckgluckglucks of your throat being relentlessly fucked, but you can hardly claim that you are the one making those sounds ring out.

You’re finally set free, hands releasing you to shoot back up and gasp for air. You cough and sputter, a hazy smile curling your wet lips up once you’ve caught your breath, and you peer up at Bakugou, who returns your smile with a satisfied smirk of his own. But the cocky expression is quickly wiped off his face when Kiri takes him in his hand and replaces your throat with his own, descending on him with an ease that makes the blonde’s face contort.

Crawling up onto the couch, you smooth your hand down Bakugou’s chest. He looks positively ravaged; Lips reddened from where he keeps pulling them between his teeth, face and chest flushed pink and shining with a light sheen of sweat, honeyed hair mussed by his hands continuously running through it. And his eyes, usually piercing and fiery, have lost their heat. They’re glazed over, glowing with his high and swimming with pleasure.

He’s gorgeous like this, you think, picturesque in his wreckage, and you can’t look away — not when his eyes roll back and his mouth hangs open, not when his hands reach out and tangle in red locs, not when his gaze finally lifts back to you and he tilts his chin up to silently ask for a kiss. You give it to him, of course — it is his birthday, after all — but then you can’t help but nose against his cheek and tease him just a bit.

“And to think, you weren’t gonna smoke with us.”

He grits his teeth into a semblance of a smile, lids heavy as he looks up at you through thick, blonde lashes. “I like ya better with my—hahh— my cock in your throat. Talk a lot less that way.�� Another moan seeps from between his lips, eyes darting to watch Kirishima suck at his balls before returning to you. He reaches out, fists impatiently at the hem of your top. “Take this shit off an’ come sit on my face.”

There’s a slick pop and then Kiri is rising to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and flashing you both a toothy grin. He suggests you all move into the bedroom, squeezing the obvious outline of his hard cock in his pants as he does so, and you’re being scooped up into Bakugou’s strong arms before you can reply.

He pads down the hallway with your legs hugged around his tapered waist and your arms wrapped around his neck. Hands grope roughly at your ass as he carries you easily — which is surprising only because he’s not looking where he’s going, too preoccupied with tasting himself on your tongue.

You’re deposited onto the bed with an oomph, bouncing against the mattress where you’re unceremoniously thrown. You look up to see Bakugou completely naked, cut body glistening in the dim light and cock bobbing heavy between his legs. He’s staring back down at you hungrily, like an animal that’s caught its prey, that sharp look in his carmine eyes back out to play – and you’re suddenly reminded of the incessant throbbing between your legs.

“I said,” he grips the buttons of your pants, pulls them roughly down your legs as if their presence offends him, “take this shit off.”

You’re stripped and straddling the birthday boy’s face before Kirishima is even back in the room. And when he does return he’s got what’s left of the joint re-lit and held between his lips, water and towels cradled in his arms. He stops in his tracks when he sees the position you two are in; You, with your thighs encasing Bakugou’s head, bent forward and draped over him so your face is right over that pretty cock. And Bakugou, splayed out underneath you, one leg bent and propped up, dick still shining with the evidence of the treatment it had gotten earlier. It’s throbbing and jumping as you grind down onto his face, your lips formed into a cute little ‘o’ as he slurps loudly, shamelessly at your cunt.

Your eyes flutter open when you hear the light crackle of Kiri puffing on the joint, finding him leaned against the door jam, so big he fills up the doorway and his hair brushes against the top of the frame. He’s watching, ruby eyes glittering, taking another lazy drag and blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth. His sexiness is effortless, easy, like it's built right into that sturdy foundation of his – and the sight of him enjoying the sight of you goes straight to your pussy, sends a wave of arousal leaking from your slit and right onto Bakugou’s lips.

You mewl, and Kiri’s eyes wander down your connected bodies, palming at his cock through his pants as he takes you both in. “How’s he doin’, baby girl?”

“Mmnn… good. But he’s so impatient.”

A heavy hand comes down on your ass, squeezing the sting away, and a disapproving grunt vibrates against your clit. Much like you, Bakugou won’t unlatch from you to say what he wants – instead, he’ll scrunch his face up and let your core absorb his words. You imagine it’s something like “shut the hell up” or “it’s my birthday, you fucks” and you let out a snicker, which unravels into a squeak when you get another swat to your ass.

You straighten up and reach out to Kiri, wanting him closer. And he comes easily, tapping out the joint and setting down what he’d brought along, pulling his shirt over his head. He kneels on the bed, and dips his face down to drink up the little sounds spilling from your mouth.

Your fingers trail down the hard ridges of Kiri’s chest as the tip of Bakugou’s tongue trails up your slit. You keep feeling him, feeling the way his broad chest expands with each breath, the way his toned stomach tenses under your touch. He’s so big, muscular in a way that’s so different from the body underneath you; Where Bakugou is cut and rigid, Kirishima is thick, almost soft, the kind of muscle you can sink your fingers into. And you do, squeezing at him, earning happy little sighs breathed onto your mouth, your jaw, the side of your neck.

You’re kissing each other slowly, deeply, and the moment is sweet, yet so nasty — punctuated by the wet sounds of a tongue swirling around your clit.

Kirishima curses when your hand finally presses against his cock, so hot with neglect that you can feel the warmth through the thick fabric of his pants. You smile against his mouth. “You like watching us, Red?”

His nose nuzzles against yours, panting as you rub harder into him. “Shit… yeah, I do.” A deep, shuddering breath. “A lot.”

“You like sucking dick a lot, too.”

It’s not a question, but Kiri bites at his lip and answers anyway.

“Yeah, I do.”

You whine, heat crackling in your belly from both the admittance, and the harsh suck to your clit. Kiri adds on with a chuckle, “might like watching you do it more, though.”

Your fingers hook into his waistband and pull his hips forward. “Wanna watch me suck yours now?”

“Thought we were taking care of the birthday boy.”

You bat your lashes, and Kiri truly wants nothing more than to see your eyes water again.

“I can take care of you both at the same time.”

“Fuck…”

He’s back off the bed and pushing his pants down his thighs without any further discussion, cock bouncing and bending under its own weight as he moves to position himself between Bakugou’s legs. There’s a surprised mmph from underneath you when his knees are pushed open wider to accommodate the larger man, but it tapers off into a low groan when he feels the heaviness of Kirishima’s hard cock slapping down onto his own.

Bending forward at the waist, you grip Kiri’s cock in your hand, so thick that your fingers struggle to connect around its girth, throbbing so hard it seems to grow even bigger in your hold. He watches you with dark eyes as you drag your tongue up the thick vein on the underside, breathes a little “so pretty” when you look back up at him.

You flick your tongue teasingly at the tip and pull back so the sticky fluid of his arousal connects you for just a moment, before you wrap your lips around it to suck the rest off. He’s salty, musky, hot and heavy — adding to the growing cocktail of sin filling your senses and making your head spin.

You’re quick to try taking him all the way in your mouth, egged on by your own arousal, and gag hard when he hits the back of your throat. Kiri groans, tucking your hair out of your face gently as he keeps himself from snapping his hips forward and forcing his cock all the way in, despite how he knows you wouldn’t mind – despite how badly he wants to. Instead he watches you strain to fit him in your mouth, the way your lips stretch around him and your cheeks fill out with his girth. It’s almost better than forcing it – watching you work so hard to do it yourself.

You bob and slurp, use your hand to stimulate what won’t fit in your mouth. And more and more drool collects around his cock, pools in your fist and drips slowly down onto Bakugou’s dick underneath it.

“Ohhh shit, yeah–” the man above you pants, strokes sweetly at your cheek, “get it nice an’ wet…”

Holding him tightly in your fist, you dip your head down to lick up the spit that’s landed on the blonde’s milky skin, earning a desperate roll of his narrow hips. You wrap your lips around him next, let the redhead jerk his cock over your face while he watches – the way you know he loves to do – before switching back. You keep working like that, going back and forth from cock to cock, sucking Bakugou eagerly into your mouth and then letting Kiri guide you back with a gentle hold on your chin.

All the while, you’re giving Bakugou a view to rival the double blowjob – your cunt spread and bent over in his face, skin so wet and soft it’s like satin, pretty hole leaking endlessly down onto his tongue. He’s shameless, the way he digs his fingers into the fat of your ass, uses rough thumbs to pull your pussy lips apart before spitting right into it. He flattens his tongue, catches the drip and tastes you from clit to slit, then buries it in that little hole, spearing you on it like a man out to kill. You squeak, try to wriggle away, but he hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you back down with a growl of “don’t you fuckin’ move” before diving back in.

The way he fucks you on his tongue is for him, really, not for you – but even so, the way the muscle stretches you out, swirls and flicks inside you as it tries desperately to push deeper, to taste deeper, it feels so nasty. So good. You arch your back, moan around Kiri’s cock about how good his tongue feels, and Bakugou just smirks against your cunt. Pleased with himself. He knows it’s fuckin’ good — he knows how to make you squirm.

He runs a thumb through your folds, wets it with the mixture of your slick and his spit, before circling it into your clit. It’s swollen, throbbing under the pad of his thumb, and your walls tighten, gush more bittersweet juice for him to drink up.

Kiri’s dick pops out of your mouth as you’re overtaken by the sudden swell of pleasure, and you cry out a shrill warning.

“Fuckfuck, Katsuki, if you keep doing that–”

“Do it,” he says, gruff and demanding, “fuckin’ give it to me.”

So Kirishima takes over in your mission of taking care of them both — presses his sticky cock up against Bakugou’s and fists them both together to the sight of you losing yourself. You’re bracing yourself with both hands on Bakugou’s stomach, tits pushed together so pretty between your arms, eyes rolling shut and mouth falling open on a moan.

Kirishima is slack-jawed as he watches you buck and grind, fucking yourself back on his friend’s tongue. So beautiful chasing your own high. His fist is slipping quickly over both their cocks, squeezing them together tightly, rutting his hips and sending shockwaves of pleasure through them both.

“Fuck, Ei, s-slow the fuck down” — is what Bakugou tries to say, but it comes out garbled, slurred into your skin. He’s so sensitive, and everything is so wet. Your pussy dripping, his chin slippery, his dick and Kirishima’s sliding over each other and squelching lewdly. And you’re all in his senses, coating his tongue, filling his every breath, singing like an angel as you tell him you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna cum right on his face —

So his hips jerk, and his voice strains in his throat, and he shoots his load hard, all up his stomach and onto his chest and between Kiri’s fingers. It just keeps coming, makes a mess of his torso and collects in Kirishima’s hand, coats both their cocks in milky white that he keeps pumping up and down the length of them.

And the sight is so messy, so filthy, both cocks sliding against each other, frothing with a gooey mixture of pre, spit, and cum. It makes that swelling wave of heat in your core grow bigger, bigger still — and Kirishima sees it on your face, whines as he overstimulates Bakugou and brings himself closer to the edge, encouraging you to “let it go, baby— there ya go, cum right on his tongue—”

And then the wave is suddenly crashing, white-hot and roaring in your ears.

You’re trembling, crying out, grinding down on Bakugou’s tongue, which he now has outstretched for you, hands digging desperately into your hips as he bucks into Kirishima’s fist – still, somehow, able to keep his composure enough to help you ride out your orgasm. Lightning is shooting up his spine, making him twitch and moan, but your release washing over his tongue may as well be the god damn elixir of life. He can see your pussy clenching, see it leaking liquid gold right onto his face, and it tastes like paradise in his mouth. He’s focused on slurping it up, making you scream and gyrate as pleasure wracks your body like something violent and unforgiving.

And, like some sort of carnal chemical reaction, Kiri grabs hold of your face, moans a strained “cumming— oh shit i’m cumming—!” into your mouth as he follows you both over the edge. He bucks once, twice in his fist and then his balls are tightening where they’re sliding against the other man’s, and he’s spilling over, thick and hot into his hand.

It mixes with Bakugou’s cum, almost indiscernible from it as ropes shoot up and land on his stomach. But it’s thicker, heavier, it doesn’t reach all the way up to his collarbones. And there’s more of it, so much more that it splatters the smaller man with white, pools in the deep grooves of his abs and sticks there.

You’re all panting hard when you finally roll over and collapse into the sheets. It’s hot, stiflingly so, sweat collecting in the crease of your thighs – or is that your own cum?

The boys breathe deep next to you, Kirishima sat on his knees, Bakugou with his arms up over his face. It’s silent for a moment, besides the sounds of you all gasping, and the hammering in your own chest.

You let your head roll to the side, checking that your partners are still alive, and are met with the sight of Bakugou’s torso absolutely painted with white.

A stunned exhale. “Holy shit…”

Kiri’s eyes slide to you, dazed. “You ok?”

“Yeah, that is just… so much cum. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much cum before. It’s like, cartoonish.”

There’s a choking sound – a snort – and then Bakugou is laughing, big and boisterous, mouth wide and teeth bared. It fills the room like fireworks, so bright it lights up yours and Kiri’s faces too.

“Stop laughing,” Kirishima chuckles, clean hand forming a cup by Bakugou’s side to catch the cum currently sliding down it, “it’s gonna get on the sheets.”

“Well then gimme a fuckin’ towel, dumbass.”

The smell of sex and smoke hangs heavy in the air. It sticks to your skin, makes you feel tacky as you shift in the bedsheets. You reach out to take the joint (well, the burnt nub that’s left) from between Kiri’s fingers, puffing on it gingerly before blowing some into Bakugou’s mouth. He’s decided he likes it better that way – straight from your or Kirishima’s lungs.

“Doesn’t burn so damn much,” he’d grumbled when he’d asked you to do it for him. You’d rolled your eyes, but leaned in to give him some of your breath anyways.

You’re all still half naked, you in one of Kiri’s t-shirts and the boys both in briefs. Laid out on soiled sheets as a thin haze fills the room, basking in the humid afterglow of your orgasms. Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the three of you together, but you feel so profoundly comfortable that you find yourself sighing deeply and smiling up towards the ceiling.

“What?” Bakugou eyes you from where he lies beside you, noticing the little quirk of your lips – which he often does, notices your little tells.

“Nothing, just high. And happy.” You roll onto your side, passing the joint back to Kiri as you prop your head up in your hand, “is that a crime?”

“The first one is in a lot of places, yeah. Maybe I’ll call the cops on ya. Turn your ass in.”

You push playfully at Bakugou’s chest, and he catches your wrist in his hand with a wolfish grin, holding you there against him.

You jut your chin out at him defiantly. “Eiji’ll bail me out.”

Bakugou glances down to where the redhead is laid across the foot of the bed, his head resting on the blonde’s thigh with a hand behind his neck. Your gaze follows when your boyfriend stays silent for a beat too long, mouth falling open with an incredulous call of “Babe?”

Kirishima blows smoke up into the air with a sigh, drags out his words like they’re hard to say. “Yeah, I would.”

“Tch. So fuckin’ soft for this brat.”

Leaning your weight on Bakugou’s chest, you lift yourself up over him to gloat – like a brat. “Jealousy’s really ugly on you, Kats–”

The room blurs as he flips you over, appearing on top of you in a second with a snarl. You kick your legs as he slots himself between them, giggling and beating at his chest with your fists – which he intercepts easily, gathering your wrists in one hand to pin over your head.

“Y’talk a lotta shit for someone so weak.”

Fingers dig roughly into your sides, making you yelp and squirm against his weight, which is pressed down onto you, keeping you firmly in place. “Go ahead, brat – talk your shit.” He forces more gasps of laughter from you with a twisted grin, eyes on fire. “Can’t fuckin’ hear you, speak up!”

“Eiji, help me!”

And then, magically, the weight is lifted off of you.

In a flash, Bakugou is laid out on his back, hands pinned by his head, held in place by two larger ones. He looks a lot like you just did, fighting and huffing – except he’s actually giving his captor some hell, Kirishima flexing and gritting his teeth as he holds him down on the bed.

It’s lighthearted, grunted laughter slipping out between heavy breaths. But it’s also intense, in the way two men wrestling just inherently is.

Locking limbs and bulging muscles, so much power packed into each strained movement and kept from exploding outward only by the strength of the other. Like two stags connected by twisted antlers, they’re opposing forces keeping them firmly in place. It gives you the impression that if you were to be wedged in between them, they’d crush you. And that… excites you.

Bakugou hooks his legs around Kiri’s waist with a biting smile, muscles tensing as he tries to twist and buck him off – and the bigger man falters, almost flips over, but slams the blonde back down with a smile of his own.

“Get off me you fuckin’ brute!”

A breathless laugh from Kirishima, red hair shaking loose around his face. “Oh I’m a brute?”

“Yeah!” One of Bakugou’s hands slips free and he claps it around the back of Kiri’s neck, pulling him down until their foreheads are knocking together. “You are.”

And then there’s a shift, the energy suddenly heavy. No longer playful, but thick and serious. Wanton.

They’re panting, naked chests pressed together, expanding in time with each other. Bakugou huffs, his eyes flickering down to Kiri’s mouth. There’s a moment of anticipation, suspended and buzzing in the air, heating up until it starts to boil.

“All that hair dye’s gone right to your fuckin’ brain.” Bakugou’s voice is low, breath puffing against parted lips. Kirishima’s nose slides against his. “Made you a damn animal.”

“Whatever you say.”

And then they’re meeting in the middle, mouths coming together in a heated kiss. Kiri’s face pressing down, Bakugou’s chin lifting to chase after that pressure. The redhead’s tongue darts out, asks for entry at the seam of his partner’s lips. And the blonde gives it willingly, passionately, answering with an eager tongue of his own.

They kiss like that for a moment, hot and heavy, pushing and pulling, exploring each other’s mouths like new lovers and not like ones who have been here many times before. Their skin glistens and muscles ripple, tangled so tightly in each other that it’s almost hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. And you can only watch, feeling like you shouldn’t be — like a voyeur.

And that seems to make your whole body hot.

It’s almost like you’re watching through a screen, a slab of glass fogged over by your high and the haze of smoke, and the thick steam that is your own desire — until suddenly that screen is punctured, a hand reaching out through the fog.

Kirishima pulls you into their orbit gently, but with a strength that makes you feel comfortable, like you can lean all the way into it and not float away. His hand cradles the side of your neck, coaxes you to come closer and kiss him. His lips are already wet and swollen, and they taste slightly different — an added sweetness you can’t quite place. Before you can think about it too long, another hand is redirecting you down, Bakugou stealing your lips away.

Wet sounds and pleasured sighs trickle through the air, you and Bakugou locked together hungrily as Kiri litters kisses down the smaller man’s chest. He takes his time running his tongue over the skin, sucking at it, tasting the sweat there — gratuitously, selfishly, knowing Bakugou won’t hurry him along like he usually does. Not with you tugging at this scalp and moaning into his mouth.

Kirishima is not a selfish lover, not by any means, but he’s also not wholly an angel. So he takes what he can get when he can get it. And right now that means taking advantage of the time he has, descending slowly. Slipping Bakugou’s briefs down his legs and running his lips along the scattered freckles on the insides of his thighs and hips. He could stay just like this, ruby eyes cast up to watch you both indulge in each other, while he indulges in the body beneath him.

But then he gets a little too eager, pushing Bakugou’s legs open wide and breathing a small “fuck…” at the sight of his hole before dipping down to taste it.

Bakugou breaks the kiss, gaze dragged down by the slick feeling of a tongue between his cheeks. His mouth falls open, face feverish as his hand moves to cup his balls, kneading them softly and holding them out of the way to give Kiri better access.

Kirishima’s tongue snakes out, big and thick just like the rest of him, and runs achingly slow over the little ring of muscle. Around and around in deliberate, wet circles. Then he’s drooling down onto it just to lap it back up with a wide, flattened tongue. His eyes flicker down, taking in the wet mess he’s already made before he dips the tip in, stuffs as much of the muscle as he can into the tight hole with a hungry groan.

It’s a different kind of intimacy, watching them like this, and it fills your face with warmth and drips down your spine. Has your hand traveling absentmindedly between your legs to satiate the ache that’s returned there. The way Bakugou’s head falls back on the mattress, the way Kiri looks up at him with eyes that are both soft and yet sharply calculating — it’s different. You’ve never seen them like this, the way they were together far before you were ever in the mix, at least not at this level of vulnerability. And maybe it should make you feel jealous, or unsure of your place, but, truthfully, all you feel is a burning, unmitigated need.

You almost forget that you’re even there — physically there — until a big hand is cupping one of your tits, an arm hooking behind your back and pulling you close again. Propped up now on his elbow, Bakugou twists his body to peck at the side of your breast and squeeze the other in his palm. He laves his tongue over it, scrapes his teeth along it with a pant before sucking a bruise into the skin. His face is hot where it buries into you, his breath even hotter where it huffs out against the new, wet bloom of red. He looks up at you through heavy lids, brows pinching as Kiri licks sloppily at his fingers and pushes two in.

“Just gonna watch, y’little perv?”

You raise your brows at him, swipe your tongue over your lips. “Maybe– unless you’d like me to do something else.”

He nods down, towards where his cock sits oozing fresh precum onto his abdomen. “Come sit on it.”

You want to, your body’s aching for it, walls clenching at the thought of it stretching you out. You can imagine distinctly how it fills you, how it hits certain spots so perfectly. The memories alone making your stomach tight with need. But you narrow your eyes anyways and say, “that’s a funny way to ask.”

He smiles sleepily, and his eyes rove down your body — and Bakugou realizes, that he’s the weak one. Weak from the weed, weak from the way Kiri works him open, weak from the sight of your cunt wrapping so pretty around your fingers. But, somehow, in this moment, he’s comfortable in that weakness.

So he sucks at his teeth, closes his eyes for a moment before looking back up to you.

“I need you. Fuck– need’a feel your pussy on me.”

The please sits heavy in his eyes. He doesn’t say it, but you hear it nonetheless.

You press forward, slot your mouth with his and let him wrap his arms around you to pull you onto him. Swinging your leg over his body, you come to rest atop him, hovering your hips over his just so until he’s growling in frustration and pulling you closer. Closer, he wants you closer – wants you both so much fuckin’ closer. So he hugs you against his sweat-dampened chest with strong arms, opens his knees wider and thrusts up to rub himself against you.

The hot length of him sliding through your folds makes you gasp, and your body reacts on its own to grind back down on it. That’s all it takes to get it slippery, your pussy so wet already, leaking slick onto his skin and making it shine.

With three fingers now stuffed knuckle-deep in Bakugou’s hole, Kirishima is getting impatient. His cock is so hard again that it hurts, throbbing in anticipation of feeling that elastic tightness currently gripping around his fingers. And now he’s watching you roll your hips back, seeing the evidence of how wet you are right there on the underside of Bakugou’s cock every time you roll them forward again. He’s squeezing his own cock at the sight, pushing his briefs down to free it so he can spit down on it.

You keep working yourself up, teasing yourself with slow grinds, letting the ridges of Bakugou’s hard cock stimulate your sensitive clit. His lips ghost against your jaw, teeth nipping lightly. “You want it?” He asks, breathy, just as worked up as you are. “Want my dick inside you?”

“Yes,” you feel him pant against your cheek, his cock pulse against your sex, “I want it so bad.”

“You want it so bad, put it inside you, then.”

Eagerly, you reach back behind you, wrap your fingers around his throbbing cock and swipe it through your folds once, twice, before slotting the tip at your entrance. Then, finally, you sink down.

There’s a resounding curse as your pussy starts to swallow Bakugou’s cock.

From you, as you’re slowly filled to the brim with heat, his cock rigid and heavy as it makes room for itself inside you, the ache in your core finally soothed by the heady feeling of being completely full.

From Bakugou, as your walls start to envelop him, quivering and squeezing around him, so snug and warm and wet that he can feel your arousal coating him and rolling down his balls.

And from Kirishima, as he watches it all happen, sees the way you open up so eagerly for cock, the way your cunt gushes around it, the intrusion pushing your juices right out. The way it splits open and sucks in inch after inch after inch, until his cock has disappeared completely inside of you.

Once you’re sitting all the way down, ass meeting skin, your clit resting against blonde curls, Kiri decides he can’t wait any longer.

You’re tipped forward as Bakugou’s legs are pushed open and back, and then you feel his breath hitch beneath you when Kiri’s dick begins to sink into him.

“Oh— fuck—!” His jaw goes slack, eyes wide and brow furrowed, as he’s stuffed completely and utterly full of Kiri’s cock. It’s huge, a fact you know well, so you coo your encouragement into his skin, kiss down his jaw and the side of his neck with each reassuring whisper.

“Ohh god, that’s so good,” Kiri sighs, eyes trained down to where his dick is being swallowed up, girth squeezed so tight it’s almost painful, “Takin’ me so, so well. Shit, so tight—“

The little, pink ring sucks him in deeper, stretching impossibly far around his thick cock. Kiri spits down on it, spreads it over his free length with his hand then pushes the fluid in with a shallow thrust. He does it again, slowly, answering each one of Bakugou’s choked groans with sweet, albeit equally choked words of praise.

And you sit there, patiently, tasting Bakugou’s skin and scratching lightly at his scalp with his cock nestled inside you.

The sensations are overwhelming — the impossible fullness in his ass, the delicious sting of Kiri working his cock in deeper and deeper. And the snug fit of your pussy around him, damp walls clenching every so often, like a warm, wet hug for his aching cock. His dick is jumping and tensing inside you, no doubt coating your insides with more and more sticky arousal with each careful push of Kiri’s hips.

And then Kirishima is finally buried to the hilt, balls meeting the tight muscle of his ass, and the long, low groan Bakugou lets out seems to vibrate right up your spine.

Kiri pulls out, the tight ring squeezing like a vice the whole way, and then slams back in.

“Fuck!” Bakugou’s face is pinched and flushed, sweat beading on his forehead when he pleads with you in a strained voice. “Need you to move. N-need you to ride me…” And this time he says it out loud, a hoarse and needy “Please.”

So you move for him, push your hips back on him so his cock is sliding slowly in and out of your pussy. It glides easily, so slippery with the mix of your juices and all the precum he was leaking right into you. You roll your hips steadily back and forth, back and forth, pulling pretty moans from Bakugou’s lips with each careful movement.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you down and hugging you close, and then a new set of hands is gripping your ass. Kiri pulls you open, squeezing hard as he watches the dick slide in and out of your wet pussy, watches your silky skin hug and drag every time you roll your hips up.

He has the most perfect view of you creaming around Bakugou’s cock, making a mess of white that coats it and collects right around the base. It makes his mouth water — so he spits down on your ass, watches the glob drip onto your hole and down over the dick you’re impaled on. It mixes with the fluids there, makes it even wetter, messier.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Look at you…” He murmurs, awe-struck, snapping his hips harder into Bakugou as his big hands push and pull on you, guiding you back and forth on another man’s dick. “Ride that dick, baby. So pretty… God damn, these holes are so pretty.”

“Y’like what you see, Red?” Comes your voice, sickeningly sweet as you smile over your shoulder at him.

“Mmm yeah, look so pretty stuffed with cock.” A smile of his own playing on his lips when he adds, “Both of you do.”

You send your hips back again, slowly, teasingly, and Kiri’s gaze drops back down to watch your pussy swallow Bakugou’s length. And right underneath that is Bakugou’s ass swallowing his length, over and over with each buck of his hips. Both holes so greedy, so wet and tight and eager for cock — the sight alone is overwhelming, downright pornographic, and Kiri feels his stomach tighten up with the tell-tale sign of his release—

So he pulls out, clenches his jaw and grips the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming so soon. “Shit, I almost…” He laughs, light and breathy, as he cards his other hand through his hair. “Just need a second.”

Fingers gripping your chin pull your attention back, Bakugou catching your mouth in a needy kiss before grinning up at you. The mist in his eyes has parted, nothing but fire outlining the deep, dilated black of his pupils.

His voice is quiet, but rough when he tells you, “‘m gonna fuck you now.”

You don’t have time to respond before you’re being flipped over. (Not that a response is needed. It wasn’t a question.)

You’re on your back once more, your legs being pushed open by hands cupped under your knees, Bakugou mounting you with a tongue swiping hungrily over his teeth. He slides his dick back inside you in one foul swoop, the head of his cock hitting your walls hard and knocking a shrill cry from your throat.

He’s so pent up from having you grind on him slowly, being a puddle underneath you despite aching with the animalistic need to pound you, that he just can’t hold back. He’s ruthless, needing to fuck you hard and fast and mean – and your pussy responds so beautifully, syrupy juices gushing out around his dick, practically spraying all over him with the force of his thrusts.

“God, this pussy’s so fuckin wet. So fuckin’ sloppy. All for me, yeah?”

Your staccato moans are the only answer you give – besides the loud squelch of your cunt when he buries himself to the hilt.

“Say it,” he spits, squeezing your face in his hands to force you to focus on him, “say it’s all for me.”

So you do — you chant it like a holy truth, with your eyes on him and your legs shaking. “All for you, it’s all for you!”

You’re rewarded with a more violent snap of his hips, pulling all the way out and slamming back in. “That’s. fucking. right.” He’s growling down at you, crazed, punctuating each word with a wet slap of skin.

“You like bein’ a little slut for us don’tcha, princess?” He drills you into the mattress, pinning both of your legs back, bending you painfully so he can fuck into you deeper. “Like bein’ my little cocksleeve?”

All you can do is squeal, mind going blank as he bullies into you — so he answers for you, he knows the answer anyways. “Fuck yeah, you do.” Another hard thrust, and you’re sliding further up the bed. His hands hot, possessive when he drags you back. “Nasty little bitch — god, this pussy feels so fuckin’ good—“

But then he’s falling forward, being pushed forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of your head. He shoots a glare behind him, spits a “what the fuck” back at Kirishima, who has a hand braced on the blonde’s shoulder and his eyes cast down.

Kiri grabs hold of the smaller man’s hip, squeezing as he pushes into him, in turn pressing Bakugou further into you. A collective hiss echoes through the room.

Kiri is sheathed back inside him and, like a switch being flipped, Bakugou goes silent. His breaths are ragged, his eyes glazed. His hips still.

Kirishima pulls out, then fucks back into him just once, making Bakugou’s cock reach even deeper inside of you with the force of his thrust.

“Don’t stop.” A firm command, punctuated by soft kisses to Bakugou’s back. “Keep fucking her.”

Bakugou grits his teeth, breathing a curse out between them, then sets his jaw hard with determination and rocks his hips again. And Kiri stays still, lets him fuck himself back on his cock.

The blonde pulls out and slams back in, over and over, harder and harder, resuming his brutal pace. He’s fucking into you feverishly, spearing himself on Kiri’s dick as he spears you with his, seesawing back and forth between the two.

“Ohhh fuck… there you go, good boy.” A big hand appears, wrapping loosely around Bakugou’s throat, fingers gripping right under his jaw to tilt his head up and make his back arch. Not choking but possessing, commanding. Dominating. The blonde pants, eyes rolling back, hips moving faster as he succumbs to the will of the man deep in his ass — and he looks positively blissful doing it.

Kirishima leans in and presses a cheek to his temple, eyes dark and piercing as he grips his jaw tighter. “Keep going just like that. Make her cum for us.”

Then he turns his gaze down to you. “Be a good girl and play with your pussy while he fucks you.”

You’re quick to obey, fingers finding your clit to rub fast, harsh circles into it. You were already close, dangling right on the edge from Bakugou’s rough treatment. And now the way your boyfriend is looking at you, looming over you both in a way that’s so different than you’ve ever seen him — you’re practically boiling over with desire.

Bakugou keeps fucking you, hard and deep, caught in between the heat of your cunt and the stretch of Kiri’s dick, and the sounds he’s making are downright sinful. Grunts and whines and broken curses that meld together in his mouth, sometimes spilling right over your lips, sometimes being swallowed by Kiri as his face is turned back by a hand on his jaw. He’s taken Kirishima’s cock before, and he’s given you his, but both at the same time has his eyes rolling so far up into his head that he can’t see straight.

He looks totally wrecked, completely fucked out, glassy-eyed and flushed and panting like a dog — it’s egging you on, making you rub your engorged nub faster as you feel pleasure winding tightly in your core.

And Kiri sees it on your face, so he brings his lips closer to Bakugou’s ear. His voice like cocoa, dripping dark and sweet.

“Want you to tell me when you feel her cumming, Katsuki. Tell me when you feel her gush on your dick.”

And something about that – being talked about like you’re not there, like you’re just a toy being shared, or a precious little pet being played with – makes the tether in you suddenly snap.

You do gush, hard, shrill chants of “ohmygod, ohmygod” and “yes, yes, yes” joining the chorus of wet sounds as you cum on Bakugou’s dick. His eyes go wide in realization before they’re rolling back, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He groans long and low at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, leaking more and more slick that he fucks right out of you with each stroke.

“Ohhh fuck— I feel it—! She’s so, f-fucking tight. So wet.”

Kirishima smiles, big and wicked, then reaches out to grab hold of your hips before plowing forward.

He pounds hard and fast into Bakugou, big hands wrapped around your hips for leverage, trapping him between you. Each thrust is an explosive chain reaction — Kiri fucking into Bakugou, forcing Bakugou to fuck into you. You’re caged underneath the blonde, his forearms on the bed and his chest pressed to yours, his eyes squeezed shut as Kiri gives him every thick, rigid inch like a man possessed.

It’s merciless, the way Kirishima is manhandling you both, the mattress squeaking and the headboard thudding against the wall. And it’s hot, all of you damp with sweat, two hulking forms crowded over you and making you feel like a small animal caught in a trap.

Your head digs back into the cushion, back arching off the bed, fingers scratching mindlessly at the sheets as you’re fucked into oblivion. You’re given no chance to come down from your high, everything so swollen and sensitive as your orgasm is prolonged past the point of sanity.

Bakugou is so deep inside you, reaching so far up into your cunt that you swear you can feel him in your throat. Every pull has him dragging deliciously against your walls, and every push has him carving out the space again, his tip hammering right into your sweet spot like a pleasurable punch to the gut. You scream, babble incoherently about how deep he is, how it’s too much, how you can’t take it.

And Bakugou echoes you, voice hoarse and face pinched.

“Fuck— W-wait— if you keep— I’m g-gonna—“

Kiri shushes him, kisses his shoulder, coos so sweetly as he continues his relentless assault on both of your holes. “Take it a little longer, baby. Doin’ so good, so fuckin’ good for me.”

“Fuck , Ei—!“

“Go ahead.” Sweat rolls down his temple, red hair sticking to his forehead. He cranes his neck down, watches Bakugou’s ass swallow him up with a groan. “Cum for us. Do it inside her. Let it all out in that pussy.”

You’re practically brainless at this point, wet and warm and perfectly pliant underneath them, but Kiri’s filthy command brings you back down to earth. You hook your arms around Bakugou’s shoulders, as if he can be anymore trapped, and plead breathlessly for his cum.

“Please! Give it to me, please—!”

His eyes open, fiery red reappearing from behind his lids as he takes in the desperate, fucked out look on your face. He feels his balls tighten, stomach tingling — aching to give you exactly what you want. “Fuck, you want it? Want this load in your cunt?”

You nod furiously, open your legs up wider, wanting him deeper. “Fill me up, Kats. I want it— want it so fucking bad.”

A loud curse and another hard thrust, and his own hips start matching Kiri’s rhythm, chasing the slippery drag of your walls. You’re so tight around him, almost like your body knows what’s coming and is trying to milk it right out of him.

“God damn— I’m gonna cum, gonna dump it all so deep inside you.” He burrows his face in your neck, his voice shaky and vibrating against your skin. “Fuck, take it— take all my fuckin’ cum—!”

Burying himself to the hilt, he gives it to you, shoots it all out against your walls, his dick pulsing so hard with each thick rope that you can feel it. It’s warm, flooding your insides with heat that spills out around his cock and trickles down your ass in hot, gooey trails.

And Kirishima feels it too, his cock caught in a vice-like grip as the muscles around it contract. He can barely move, sucked in by Bakugou’s orgasm, but each twitch and squeeze feels so unbelievably good — he throws his head back and lets the pleasure wash over him, pumping his cum right into that tight, needy hole. And then he pulls out, fists his cock wildly and shoots the rest of it out onto Bakugou’s ass.

The redhead is panting as he strokes the last bit of cum from his tip, grabbing a handful of the blonde’s taut cheek to pull him open and watch the mess of white dribble from his loosened hole. There’s so much of it, oozing out in thick globs over his balls, dripping down to mix with the cum slipping out of you and coating his dick. “Such a mess…” he chuckles under his breath as he shifts out of the way enough for Bakugou to roll off of you.

But then a rough hand is tangling in his hair, pulling the redhead down towards your used up pussy as warm cum continues to seep out of it. Bakugou’s face comes right up to his, nose to cheek, with a nasty grin splitting his lips open.

“Then clean it up.”

Kirishima’s face is pushed down between your legs, and you gasp at the sudden contact of his mouth. His tongue is downright greedy as it laps the bittersweet cum from your folds, and you’re so sore and sensitive that you immediately whine and try to scoot away.

Two muscular arms hook tightly around your thighs, Kiri pulling you back in and looking up at you with big, pleading eyes. “Stay still, baby, please,” his tongue darts out again, groaning low at the taste, “gonna clean you right up, ok?”

“S-so sensitive—!”

“I know, baby girl, I know. Just let me…” But he can’t finish his thought, lashes fluttering as he continues licking up the cum from your entrance. The mix of you and Bakugou swirls around on his tastebuds, makes him dizzy with desire. He extends his tongue, drags it all the way up from your ass, letting it dip into your slit and collect more of the mixture for him to hungrily swallow.

It’s filthy, watching your boyfriend eat another man’s cum out of you like he’s starving for it — and you’re already so sensitive, your clit engorged and your folds swollen from friction. A thick finger pushes inside you, sinking knuckle deep to scoop more cum out of you, and your back arches high off the bed.

“Ohhhh— ohmygod fuck!”

Bakugou is right behind Kiri, watching with low eyes and a snarling smile. He pushes the bigger man’s face harder into you, laughs meanly when you gasp.

“What was that shit you told me?” He rasps, craning his neck down to talk in Kirishima’s ear. “Tell me when you feel her gush.”

It’s like a game between them, and you’ve somehow become the ball.

There’s an excited glint in Kiri’s eyes when he opens them again to stare up at you, plunging another finger into you and curling them hard as he latches his lips onto your clit. You writhe in the sheets, bucking and squirming as you’re overstimulated. But Kiri keeps you firmly in place, holding you down like it’s nothing with a thick arm barred over your hips, and quickly brings you back to the edge.

But this time is different, your insides so swollen from the beating they’d gotten, so sensitive from your last mind-numbing orgasm, so responsive to the beckoning curl of his big fingers… You feel it, the intense build of pressure, and your eyes go wide, pleas to wait and hold on tumbling from your lips as your body curls in on itself. But Kiri just keeps going, grunts his encouragement onto your clit as he sucks and licks it, flexes his forearm as he fucks you even harder on his fingers — and you fall right apart with a scream and a rush of fluids.

“Ohh shit!” Bakugou laughs as Kiri pulls his face away.

The redhead braces a hand on your abdomen and pushes down to keep you still, then hooks his fingers into you, moving his arm hard to attack that spongy spot and fuck more squirt out of you. It sprays violently out of your cunt as you scream, showering them both in your essence, so much that it drips down their bare chests and soaks the sheets.

Bakugou slaps at your clit as you come down, laughs again when you buck up involuntarily. “Now that’s a fuckin’ mess.”

They’re both glistening, Kiri’s face dripping, droplets of your cum snaking down their stomachs. It’s nasty, everything muggy and wet and covered in somebody’s cum.

And you all look downright blissful about it, panting heavy and smiling like cats that got all of the cream.

Bakugou reaches out, kisses Kirishima hard and licks the taste of you off his mouth. Then he’s pulling you up and pressing his lips to yours, passing the sweetness on to you.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

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