#mha x you
"katsu baby wake up"
poke poke poke
"what do you want? its" you watch him squint to read the clock in the nightstand "fucking 1:45 am"
"i missed you" he knows it doesn't really make sense for you to miss him right now when he's right next to you, but god does his heart triple in size after hearing you say that
"what...? what do you mean you missed me?" he murmurs softly while rubbing his eyes to look at you "I've been right here all night"
"...yeah" you pout and scoot closer to him "i know that"
"you know?" he says while pulling you so you're flush against his chest "so what do you mean baby?"
"well you weren't with me in my dream and I really missed you in there" and fuck, he thinks you might just be trying to kill him because that was just the sweetest thing he's heard come out of anyone's mouth
"so you woke me up?" he sighs and starts running his fingers through your hair "I wasn't in your dream and you missed me there so you woke me up?" he smiles softly and almost teasingly, feeling almost ridiculous for completely understanding something like what you just said, and even more ridiculous for feeling giddy that you miss him even in your dreams
"well don't say it like that" your pouting intensifies "I just needed to hear your voice and hug you like this, but you can go back to sleep now if you want to"
"now why would I do that when my baby misses me huh?" he kisses the pout off of your face immediately after saying that, because he can't stand to see that sad look on your face, even if he knows you're not really all that sad
and the kiss it's not just a peck, it never is, his kiss is deep and full of love
"mmm I thought you'd be too tired to stay awake" you say slightly out of breath and blushing after that kiss, and god he thinks, he really loves to be the only one who can make that blush appear on your face
"I'm never too tired when you need me baby" he barely whispers into your ear after flipping the both of you over so his entire weight is resting on you
You feel him nuzzle into your neck and hum, it tickles and makes you giggle softly
Is your giggle supposed to make him feel like that? he thinks, is it supposed to make his heart beat faster than it's ever beaten and his stomach erupt into butterflies? him? the powerful dynamight! reduced to a giddy mess just because of your giggle? but of course he is, because it's you and he can never be the powerful, all mighty, emotionless dynamight when he's with you
Because in your shared house, in your shared bed, he's just your suki, and he allows himself to experience everything because you make him feel like there's thundering fireworks inside of him. Like he's capable of everything and yet he doesn't need to do anything, he just needs to be there and let himself feel everything you make him feel and he can only hope that he can make you even half as happy as you make him just by existing
"and just what are you laughing about?" he pulls his head up and stares at you with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile
"it tickles" you say with the ghost of a smile still in your face
"huh? what does?" he says while nuzzling his face into your neck again and blowing raspberries on it "is it this maybe? does this tickle?"
he hears you laughing again but louder this time and he can't believe that there was a time when he could've ever thought he wouldn't be happy, if he could look at his teenager self and tell him what his life would be like in the future he's sure he would have punched himself because he never once thought he would be as happy as you make him, he never thought it was even possible until he met you
"STOP HAHAHA PLEASE! MERCY" you half scream half laugh while trying to squirm away from him "PLEA-SE HAHAH SUKI MERCY PLEASE"
honestly? he doesn't want to stop, he doesn't want you to stop laughing, he wants to stop this moment and record it and watch it over and over until the day he dies
but then again, you probably need to breathe, and he really wants to kiss you right now so he'll stop, for now, for you
"alright alright, I'll be merciful" he pulls his head up from your neck once again and stays so close to your face that your noses brush against each other "but it'll cost ya"
"oh my!" you say biting back a grin "and what would this cost me? a gold coin or two perhaps?"
"oh no, nothing like that" he says, soft as ever, because there's never a time when he's not soft around you "it'll cost ya a thousand kisses"
"oh god! a thousand?" you exclaim, also as soft as ever, because you think breaking the bubble so carefully built around you both right now might just be a crime "and how could I ever pay you so many kisses?"
"well, you can start with this one"
and he leans in
and he kisses you
and you both thank whatever god (if there is one) that it's out there, and the universe, and the stars, and the moon, and the sun, and everything that had to happen so you two met each other because it's the best thing that could have happened to either of you
and so you stay there
kissing each other
at what it's now 2:03am
and you're grateful
and you're happy
and you're in love.
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[BNHA BOYS + ORAL FIXATIONS]
warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader
a/n: ty @jozhenji and @diavohoe for screaming about this with me
— your tits, can suck on them for hours, grabs them in each hand and sucks hard on one until you separate with a wet pop before moving to the other;
shindou, shouto, endeavor, manual, sero, tensei, inasa
— your pussy, sucks on your clit, fucks you with his tongue, won’t stop until he has your juices and drool dripping down his chin, is completely willing to die between your thighs;
midoriya, kirishima, mirio, all might, fat gum, gang orca, shigaraki, tenya, muscular
— your neck and ears, nips at your skin, tugs at your earlobes, loves feeling your sensitive skin gets hotter under his lips and the way you squirm when he fucks you slowly;
natsuo, bakugou, dabi, overhaul, twice, sir nighteye, ojiro, shinsou
— your fingers, sits on his heels and pulls you into his lap, likes to make you watch him suck your digits into his mouth as he fucks up into you, smiles around your fingers when you whimper;
kaminari, aizawa, tamaki, hawks, present mic, mr. compress
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𝙍𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙮 ──
"Thank you." you said to the worker, grabbing your small bag of popcorn. They went back to get your other item when three tall guys cut in front of you.
"We'll have three bags of popcorn and soda." the middle one with blonde hair spoke.
"Make it quick!" the black haired one exclaimed "We don't have time."
The worker tried to tell them that they were cutting in line but was too scared to say anything. Sighing you tapped the blonde one on the shoulder.
He turned around took a good look at you then turned back again. "Seriously?" you said, proceeded to tap him again.
"Didn't you get the hint?" he spoke staring down at you. "You're not my type."
"I don't care if I'm not your type." you responded "You're cutting in line."
The black haired chuckled, "And? What are you going to do about it?" he smirked.
"Move it or lose it." you said, "The rest of us don't care if you're late to seeing your movie. We got here first."
"Um last time I checked no one else is complaining except you." the shorter one replied, "Why don't you be a good girl and keep your mouth shut."
"I get that girls don't want to be near you and probably have daddy issues, I understand. But no one here wants to deal with your asses either maybe take the hint and leave."
"What did you say?" the blonde one stepped closer making you step back. "You may be a girl but I'm not afraid of hurting you."
"Wow such a gentlemen." you sarcastically replied, "I'm not afraid of you either asshole."
"That's it." you were ready to use your quirk, when a guy from behind you caught his fist.
"I suggest you do as the lady said."
The blonde guys became pissed, "This doesn't involve you."
"No you're right it doesn't." the mysterious guy said, "But I don't like your type. Why don't you leave her alone and scram like she said, or I can show you out myself." he suggested.
"We're not afraid of you." the short one added "It's three verses one do you really think you'll win against us?"
"You wanna give it a try?" his grip tightened then lowered his hoodie slightly. He smiled wickedly, tilting his head to the side. The guys eyes widened along with yours. "What's the problem? Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled.
You swallowed not being able to move an inch. He was right there next to you.
The blonde one was too scared to say anything knowing who was hiding under the black hoodie, he ran past you and the other two followed him. The worker breathed out, sighing of relief.
"Thank you for your help sir!" he went to give you your items but you shook your head.
"It's okay, I-I need to go." you gave him the cash then quickly walked out of the lobby. Your chest felt tight, seeing him so up close was a different feeling. You wondered if he had been following you and you didn't even notice.
"You really decided to leave after what I did?" you jumped back in surprise seeing him standing in front of you.
Your mouth wouldn't move, you wanted to tell him off but couldn't.
He sighed, "Come on if I wanted to hurt you I would have done that by now."
You looked at him, "I didn't ask-..." you took a moment to compose yourself. "Why haven't you? You're part of the league of villains, Dabi."
"I don't mess with people who don't bother me." he replied
Chuckling you shook your head. "I don't believe you. The league of villains have attacked innocent people, even Class 1-A. Don't use that excuse when you've done horrible things."
"My beef isn't with those wannabe heroes." he stated. "I don't attack women, have you ever seen on the news of me attacking them?"
It was true... to some extent. All he ever does is attack the heroes. Yet those heroes include women too, you weren't sure what to believe.
"Doesn't mean you don't have some kind of plan. I'm part of class 1-A why should I trust anything you're saying?" you questioned.
"I don't save people to attack them later." Dabi answered "That's the truth to your question."
"Fine..." you muttered.
"For the record if I hadn't stepped in you would have been in trouble."
"What are you talking about?..."
He smiled, "You don't have your license yet using your quirk without permission could get you in trouble with the law."
You clenched your jaw, "How do you know I haven't gotten mine?..."
"I know things."
Rolling your eyes, you walked passed him. "Whatever..."
"Where are you going?"
"Home." you answered, groaning seeing he was following you still. "We don't need to see each other any longer."
"Come on I'm not that bad of a company, you know." he picked up the pace trying to match yours.
"Even if you're not... I can't be seen with a villain." You crossed your arms in front of your chest. "We are enemies after all."
He rolled his eyes, "This whole being enemies thing is kinda getting on my nerves. Who says heroes and villains can't be friends."
"Uh every single movie, incident, and book?" you looked at him as if he was crazy. "You may not watch much tv but it's that obvious. Now please leave me alone."
"I don't have anything to do, why not get to know each other more?"
At this point you decided to ignore him, you figured the longer you stayed quiet, he'd get bored and leave. But BOY were you wrong he decided to follow you back to the train station.
"I thought you U.A heroes would have more privilege." Dabi commented, "Who knew you take the train too."
"We may be in U.A but that doesn't mean we don't have our own troubles." you swiped your train card and made your way downstairs.
Dabi decided to jump over the the two machines since he didn't have a train pass. People looked his way yet somehow he did not care. He walked away looking cool and unbothered, something you envied about him.
"Wait up will you?" He ran following your every move. All you wanted to was get away from him. Dabi may act nice right now but it doesn't mean you can be near him after all the times he's hurt your friends. "Hey!" he caught your wrist.
"Stop!-" he pulled you into his chest tightly, while his body shield you away from the strong winds of the train passing by. Dabi looked down at you with a slight worry in his eyes.
Your heart was beating like crazy. His body felt warm, despite the rough stitches on his body, his skin felt extremely soft. As you looked into his eyes, you saw something in them that made you change the way you look at him. Despite acting like a villain, he was like any other person. He carried guilt, sadness, and revenge in those eyes.
You felt the urge to touch his cheek, without thinking about it, you moved your hand up to caress his cheek.
Dabi's eyes widened as he felt your touch. He tensed up for a moment before slowly he relaxed under you. There was something about you that he couldn't keep himself away from. He wanted to know more about you, to talk with you everyday.
The sound of the loud speaker broke you both out of your trance. You dropped your hand to the side and stepped away, already shivering from the cold wind.
He cleared his throat, "You should be more careful."
You avoided eye contact and looked down at the ground. "S-sorry..." You rubbed your forearm up and down, "Thanks for the save... Dabi."
"See I'm not so bad am I?"
"I can't really say much... but I do appreciate the help from earlier as well."
The loud speaker sounded again, "The next train will be arriving soon. It will be the last one until 4pm, please make sure to get closer to the line and wait until all doors are open. Thank you."
"Why don't we go somewhere?" he suggested "We can go grab something to eat so you can see if I'm really bad."
Your eyes switched from the lock on the wall then over to him. You did have things to do however, you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about him too.
"Okay." you answered, "Only for today, I can give you a pass this once. Tomorrow we go back to hating each other."
He smirked slightly "I can guarantee that you won't be able to get enough of me." he started to talk away, every bone in your body was yelling for you to leave and get a hero to know about his whereabouts. It was ridiculous that a future hero was even talking to the Dabi. If anyone found out you knew it would bring chaos. You'd be expelled.
Dabi stopped walking, turning his head to look back at you. "Are you coming or not?"
"I'm coming." you replied jogging over to him. He smiled to himself then made his way out of the train station with you by his side.
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Poor baby ( rewatching season 5 I didn't see this before lol )
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hey would you pls do bakugou(bnha) x reader sfw alphabet?
Totally! I love Bakugo! I hope you like it!! Sorry it took so long!!!!
ALSO I AM WORKING ON ALL THE OTHER ONES :))
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Bakugo wouldn't be overly affectionate in the way of doing a lot of PDA
He likes putting his arm around you, or holding your hand in a big crowd
While he's holding your hand, he'd squeeze it
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
As a best friend, his form of love is insults
If you ever need moral support or are in a bad place though, he will give you advice, and calm down with the insults and say what he knows you need to hear
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Bakugo likes cuddling fine
He really only does it if his s/o likes it
He likes to be the big spoon, though
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
He cooks, he cleans
No toxic masculinity in this household
He wants to be a prohero, but if he can settle down at the same time, he will
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
It'd probably be awkward, since he'd put 110% of himself into his relationships after he really gets into them
Or, it'd be in a heated argument and he'd do it in the moment
Which he would regret
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
Bakugo is pretty good with commitment
He chose to date you, so you are good enough for him forever
That doesn't mean he'd get married ridiculous fast
If you started dating in U.A., he'd propose on the day you graduate!!
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
He gets mad pretty fast
But less so at you, his s/o
Physically and emotionally, he is not very gentle, but if you need it, he will be more gentle to you <3
But if your more aggressive/tolerant he'll stay super loud and aggressive
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
He likes hugs
When he feels down, he'll probably hug you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder quietly
You'll know he'd had a bad day, and stand there for a little while
His hugs are warm and feel safe since he has really strong arms
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
Either, you'd say it first, and he'd say it back
Or would be having a rare, quiet moment when he'd say it to you first
You'd be a bit taken off guard and start blushing
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
Honestly, he'd get a little jealous when you'd get really close to other people
But he trusts you, so he wouldn't usually interfere
He'd probably "tch", get irritated with the person or put his arm around you
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
His kisses are really warm and full of love
He likes to kiss you on the face or neck
He likes to be kissed on the face, neck or hand
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
He can come through in the end, but his parenting style would not be good for a child's developmental health in the long run
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
Bakugo goes to bed early to wake up early
He'd aggressively shake you awake, especially if you are a heavy sleeper
He'd make you breakfast
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
Once you're back in the dorms he's a bit more relaxed
As the night progresses, he'd go to bed a whole lot earlier than most of your classmates
You might sit together on his bed for a little while, maybe talking, maybe not
It'd be a nice, calmer time together
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
He'd be very closed off at first
Eventually, he might tell you about his insecurities about feeling not good enough
It'd be slow
It might take many months before he even shows more emotions aside from anger and slight affection towards you
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
Bakugo is very easily frustrated
He could try to be calm for you, but that probably wouldn't do much
You need to be able take his personality to be with him, because he won't completely change himself just for you
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
He does not pay attention to what you say at the beginning of the relationship
But the longer and longer you date, the more and more he listens and remembers what you say
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
Probably when he got back from being kidnapped by the L.O.V., and you were instantly there to comfort him
He really needed it, since he was traumatized from it
Bakugo really needed you in that time, and he is more than grateful for your support
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
Bakugo is really protective of you, especially if you aren't a hero course student
If you are a hero course student, he'll be less protective because he knows you are strong and deserves respect, and wouldn't deny your strength by over protectiveness
However, if you are in teams in a group exercise, he'd put your safety before his, while not getting in your way if he doesn't have to
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
He puts in quite a bit of effort
Bakugo has forgotten before anniversaries, but he does apologize and doesn't mean it
He puts 110% into everyday tasks
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
He has tons of issues managing his anger
It hurts a lot when he snaps at you
He is learning to manage his anger in a healthier way, but the progress is slow
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
I mean, he likes having an intimidating front
He spends time styling his hair, and put a lot of effort in his hero costume
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
Yeah, he could
It would take a while if you were in deep into your relationship, but he would quickly relearn how to live without you
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
He's pretty good at styling his own hair, but he really likes messing with yours
Your hair is a different texture
He likes to run his fingers through it, or if its too short, putting his hand on your head
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
Over weak partners with no redeeming qualities is a turn off
If you are a skilled hero student, he likes that, if you are a intelligent support course or business student, also cool, but if you have no interesting qualities, it's a no
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
Honestly, I don't think he snores much
But, he totally tosses and turns through the entire night, regardless of the quality of his sleep
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𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 — 𝐞.𝐤
Pairing: Eijirou Kirishima x genderneutral!reader
Warnings: Fluff, insecurities and doubt, but that’s all because my sweet boy only deserves the best
Summary: You decided to help your boyfriend dye his hair after noticing his hair has grown out, but he feels like he’s only wasting your time and needs some reassurance.
A/N: I finally sat my ass down and finished this fic, because this wip has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and I didn’t have any motivation to keep writing. Thank you @diavohoe for beta-reading this and giving me a title. I love you, bitch.
Word count: 2.322 words
Kirishima knows you love him unconditionally when you offer to dye his hair one day. His roots have been growing out for a few weeks and the bright crimson has faded around his scalp, exposing his natural dark hair he usually hides under a thick layer of color and although it doesn’t bother him much, you still seem to dislike the stark contrast that has appeared at the center of his head and spread even further over the last month. Not even his styled spikes can hide the black dilemma of his roots now and he has to admit that his hair is in urgent need of a touch-up.
Normally, he would have some boxes of dye in his small bathroom, perhaps some in the drawers under his desk too, but last time he checked, they were all empty and discarded in the trash. Unfortunately, Mr. Aizawa ensured to double the hours of hero training ever since the last villain attack and so he didn’t have much space between combat and studying hard for upcoming exams to take a short trip to the city and get new hair dye.
To be clear, it’s not like he wasn’t aware of the pure love you feel for him before, quite the opposite actually, but Eijirou knows for a fact how awfully time consuming the task of coloring his hair can be, which is why he usually refrains from asking his friends for their assistance to spare their nerves and opts to do it on his own whenever it’s needed.
Sure, it took him a while to get the hang of it. Estimating the right amount of color to evenly spread in his hair with the naked eye and prevent any patches and overly pigmented spots is harder than it seems. Though somehow, he learned how much dye he’s supposed to use and surmounted the struggle of getting the strange sensation of pins and needles in his arms after standing in front of his bathroom mirror for endless hours to perfect his look. Now he could almost call himself an expert when it comes to dying someone’s hair.
“Hey, I’m back from the store! I’m not sure if I grabbed the right color though, can you take a look?” Your nose is reddened from the cold outside as you close the door to his room and slip out of the jacket you stole from him for the quick run outside, lazily draping his clothes over the basket of laundry sitting in one corner. You approach his spot on his bed with two or three boxes of bright red hair dye and bleach in your arms, stopping right in front of him to show the brand printed on the front of your purchase and his heart skips a beat in his chest as his face flushes in embarrassing adoration for you.
“Oh, thanks! Yeah, that’s the right one... You really don’t have to help me though, I can do it myself,” he chuckles quietly and reaches out to snatch the hair dye out of your grasp, but you admonishingly click your tongue and merely shake your head at his rash actions, quickly dodging his arms to escape to the other side of the room. He only means well, only wants to be certain he isn’t bothering you and wasting your time with something as simple as dying his hair. “I’m serious, Y/N. It’s fine if you don’t want to...Wait, what are you doing there?”
“I’m looking for that weird applicator brush you’re supposed to use,” you explain scarcely and open the vanity cabinet below his sink, clumsily balancing the boxes in one arm as you drop to your knees and slide over the cool bathroom tiles. Despite your efforts, they topple over and hit the ground a second later, earning a sigh from you. Leaning forward, you push moisturizer, hair gel, and some makeup aside to search the tool you’re certain you saw somewhere in there just yesterday. Eijirou, still sitting on his bed with his phone in one hand, can hear you rummaging through the cabinet, tries his best to not gawk at your ass as you twist your upper body and arch your back to dive deeper into the vanity.
Of course, you had to wear just a pair of shorts and one of his old shirts.
“I know you never use that thing,” you groan lowly. At this point, your back begins to hurt uncomfortably and your arms cramp, trembling under the weight of your body still leaning into the vanity cabinet, although you don’t appear to be successful with your mission. “But I don’t want to make a mess out of your room and make it look like you committed a bloody murder in here.”
He huffs out a laugh at your muffled comment. You can feel the warmth of his wide smile on your exposed neck and the image of his bright face without casting a glance over your shoulders. Then, after a moment of thinking, you suppose, your boyfriend calls out. “Have you looked behind the mirror? I might have thrown it in there if it isn’t already in the trash.”
“No, hold on,” you pant, ducking your head and getting to your feet to open the mirror cabinet as he advised. Your eyes scan the shelf hidden behind the polished glass, read the label of his musky cologne and the tube of toothpaste next to some floss. Strangely, one compartment is only filled with products for your personal needs — you recognize your deodorant and your favorite moisturizer, as well as the face serum you always apply before sleep, paired with a second toothbrush and products for your hair you don’t recall ever asking to buy for you.
“Nope, I can’t... Oh, wait! I found it!” You chime happily when your gaze falls on the brush you’ve been looking for. Raising it triumphantly over your head to show your boyfriend, you nod your head and beckon him to move his ass out of bed and come closer. “Alright, get a chair and get over here. If we wait any longer, the day is going to be over and your roots still won’t be covered.”
As you wait for your boyfriend to join you in the bathroom, you prepare everything you need. Vaseline and makeup wipes to clean his forehead once you’re done with the process of coloring his hair are placed on the sink beside a bar of soap, the pair of gloves snugly fit around your hands to protect your skin and the bleach you bought is already poured into the plastic container Eijirou always uses to mix his color kits. To be sure nothing gets messed up, you placed some stained towels on the floor and purposely changed into one of his old shirts before you headed to the store in case your aim misses his head and you accidentally spill some of the product on yourself.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to waste your time,” he admits hesitantly as he pushes his chair into the bathroom and quickly ties his hair up, wrapping another dappled towel you hand him over his broad back. As expected he changed the clothes he previously wore into a shirt that barely covers his stomach and the tan lines his hero uniform left. The sweatpants he wears are blotchy in some spots just like the material of his shirt around his shoulders; speckled with bleach and crimson dye.
It’s the very same shirt he wore when he first started changing his looks, hasn’t gotten rid of it for whatever reason. Maybe it’s a sentimental matter, the start of something new, of finding his true self and overcoming his anxieties and on the way to becoming the fearless hero he always aspired to be he didn’t only find his new favorite color — he found love, too.
“Shut up, Eiji. I’ve always wanted to dye your hair anyway,” you reply and gently push him down, running your fingers over his arms as he leans back against the chair. The fabric of his shirt tenses around his bulging muscles, close to ripping at the seams when he raises his hands to section the lower parts of his disheveled hair, oblivious to your lingering gaze on him and the way your breath hitches in your throat for a second before you finally get a hold of yourself. Drooling over your boyfriend isn’t your priority right now, you can do that after you’re done here. “I promise I’ll make sure it doesn’t get patchy, babe. Now, sit still.”
Slapping his hands away, you carefully pull some of the missing strands out of the messy bun on top of his head and comb through each sectioned part to detangle some knots before you pull the first bowl of bleach closer to you and start applying the product. Soon, the strong smell of chemicals burns in your nose and makes your eyes tear which makes it harder to focus, but you’re determined to give your best and a little stinging sensation won’t stop you now that you’re already fully committed.
Flipping each section with the end of your brush, you paint each side of the regrowth, then move on to the next strand and slowly but surely work over his whole head until every dark spot is covered. After you’re finished, you gently push his hair back to his original part line and brush through it once more, tightly wrapping some plastic foil around his hair after you smoothed everything out.
“Alright, I’m done with bleaching.”
“Thank you,” Kirishima stammers quietly. His fingers, calloused from fighting, fiddle with a loose thread of the towel, phone resting in his lap as he tries to find the right words to describe what he’s feeling before it’s too late. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. You already told him you wanted to do this and you’re about to shush him again, but something in his lowered gaze catches your attention — there’s doubt and wary glinting in his crimson irises and you wonder when those feelings surfaced while you were lightening his roots. “I’m sorry you have to waste your time with me, baby.”
A hand cups his cheek, gingerly turning his face so he’s looking up at you. Your thumb runs along his sharp jawline, caressing his warm skin and feeling the bumps and scars adorning his cheek and chin under the pad of your finger as you give him a reassuring smile. Instantly, you can watch how his pupils dilate and his lips part in anticipation when you move to lean down and press a sweet peck to the corner of his mouth, running your lips over his to deepen the loving kiss. It’s a fleeting touch, but it’s enough to bring a furious blush to his cheeks. “You don’t waste my time, Eijirou. Now let me do my job and rinse your hair, okay? You’ll look so manly when I’m done with you.”
He doesn’t reply.
There’s no need to. Although he’s always been a man of bold actions and affectionate words, unashamedly proclaiming fondness of you whenever he can, he can’t think of a fitting description to captivate how his heart feels like it’s going to explode with all the love he conceives for you. So, he only nods and gives you one of his cheesy smiles as he moves and bends over the sink to wash his hair.
It’s uncomfortable and the tension in his neck builds steadily, but he doesn’t want to move when he feels you lean over him and turn the faucet on. The warm water runs through his hair and collects the bleach in the drain while you run your fingertips through the wet strands of faded red and catch some water in your palms to rinse the spots that haven’t been washed yet.
After you ensure his roots are clean again, you tap his shoulder and pat his soaked hair with a soft towel. Everything about your treatment is soft, so gentle and tender as if you’re handling a figure made of glass, easy to break with one wrong move. It feels nice to be held so cautiously although his quirk is the opposite — hard and rough, made to be treated with brutal strength. Yet you seem to have dismissed that image of him as you wipe the beads of water from his temples and plant a kiss there instead. Reaching for the brush sitting on the sink, you detangle his hair and dry it further with another towel.
“Maybe I should dye my hair too.” You’re dunking the clean brush in the container of red dye you just mixed thoroughly, painting the color on his bleached roots and over the length of his hair to refresh the faded red. You’ve been working in comfortable silence for quite a while, occasionally snickering at a Tiktok Mina sent in the group chat or chatting about your dinner plans, giggling at a drop of spilled dye that landed on the tip of his nose when you weren’t paying attention and kicked the damp towels you used to dry his hair into a corner.
“Can I do it for you?” He asks almost immediately, sighing lowly when you run your fingertips over his head and massage his scalp with gloved hands. His shoulders slump and he turns his head to look at you, wide grin and eyes crinkling in puppy-like excitement as patiently waits for your reply. The towel around his shoulders slips and drops to the floor, right between your feet. "I want to return the favor, baby."
“Sure, you can do it... Stay still and let the color sit or I might take it back," you threaten jokingly and bend down, picking up the stained towel to drape it over his shoulders.
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prince shoto x fem reader
content: shoto being obsessed w/ a gold digging reader, momo is a lesbian, 1 mention of slight dubcon, 1 slut shaming comment
Prince Todoroki Shoto despised you.
Your family were a bunch of rotten apples and as they say, the apple does not fall far from the tree. You were everything he loathed. Corrupt. Treacherous. Violent. Beautiful.
It was funny to you, his furrowed brow and pink pouty lips. You could practically see the cogs turning in that pretty little head of his, wondering how on earth he end up in your bed.
Worse, it was him who came to you, sneaking around like a thief at night, tiptoeing into your chambers. Unsightly, really.
This arrangement between the two of you started when Shoto caught you fooling around with a guard. Despite being of high social status, you were known to have plenty of paramours of ranks beneath you. A well-known seducer. Sometimes it was to elevate your power, other times just for fun.
Still, Shoto could not get that sight out of his head.
You’d mounted the guard, kissing him in a teasing manner. The poor man was red, wriggling for more. Shoto didn’t know why this aroused him. Perhaps it had to do with his own status.
While you were, too, bound by societal rules, you at least had some leeway to enjoy yourself. In contrast, Shoto was restricted to the point where he couldn’t breath. His future was decided and contrary to popular belief, he couldn’t do what he wanted. His father, the current king, prohibited it.
Just once, he wanted to give up power. He wanted the freedom to be with whoever he wanted, without regrets.
Shoto’s betrothed, Princess Momo, wasn’t interested in men.
Their marriage would merely be one of convenience. Though polite, she made it crystal clear that nothing sexual would ever happen between them. Instead, she sought at the company of her ladies-in-waiting.
Shoto was left blue balled. His hand wasn’t enough to satiate this feeling within him.
His desperation led him to corner you. Shocked and confused, you didn’t notice the way Shoto would look at your lips. What would they taste like, he wondered.
Still thinking he hated you, you tried to ignore him, not wanting to waste your time clashing words that would only enter deaf ears. Shoto was like an iron wall as you tried to push past him.
“I…” he trembled before your presence, it was overwhelming. He wanted to kneel at your feet. Instead, his voice hardened and he pulled your hand towards his crotch. “Release me.”
That was bold. Real bold, coming from him who’d sneer whenever you were within his vicinity. Now he wanted you to jerk him off? No way. You wouldn’t stoop so low even if he held a sword to your throat. He may be handsome and a prince but he’d made his distaste for you obvious. And the sentiment was returned.
Though, he refused to let you go. His head was slight bowed in embarrassment. As his icy voice urged you, you pushed him against the wall harshly. His head hit the brick, it hurt a bit more than he’d like to admit.
With your free hand, you grabbed his cheeks, squeezing them. Shoto’s face was painted red. So close. You were so close, he could almost kiss you. “Word of advice, Your Highness, let that be the last time you touch me without permission. Prince or not, I will rip your entire hand off and feed it to my dogs.”
Shocked. And aroused.
His hand slackened, giving you the chance to leave with a huff and a nasty glare in his direction. “Ugh..” the tent in his pants just got worse.
Your father’s palm connected with the side of your face, hard enough to rock you back into the bed you’d just been fucking one of the maids in.
“I’m warning you, (Name). You better stop whoring around and do something useful for once!”
It shouldn’t have gotten to you, but it did.
Those words, you were used to hearing them from others but you never cared. Their opinion meant nothing to you. It hurt because you believed your father would understand; he’d done much worse than adultery after all.
Without meaning to, the tears spilled from your eyes. “Agh! This is stupid..” you tried to wipe them away but they just kept falling.
Now the last person you expected to see was the Prince himself. Ever since that incident, he’d avoided you like the plague though he still undressed you with his eyes.
“Are you alright?”
Okay, so you weren’t fine. Shoto seemed to think the same because he carefully approached you. Sitting down a few feet away from you, he listened as you ranted. He said nothing, merely paying attention, nodding occasionally.
It was the first time someone had done that.
You don’t know why you did it, but one thing led to another. You kissed him, starting this whole affair. From then on, Shoto could hardly keep himself away from you. It was kind of pathetic.
He was entirely obsessed with you, but you were only interested in the power he held. One night, when you attempted to get dressed and return to your chambers, he held onto you. “Don’t go.”
You opened your mouth but he beat you to it. “My crown, you want it, correct? Why not have your own?”
Shoto caressed your hand, gently. He placed a kiss, looking at you with those beautiful eyes. You never imagined he would go this far to keep you with him. “Are you…proposing?”
“Yes. Be my Queen.”
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♡Don’t let me choose♡
Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader
Warnings: soft Dabi, SPOILERS (Dabi’s past), probably typos, angsty feelings, mild-yandere themes (?)
Word count: 601
A/N: I am sick with one-sided interpretation of Dabi as some sort of heartless-sadist-creep, so here we go
Annotation: They called him a villain, a heartless killer. Dabi certainly was not the most saint of all the people, but there was something behind his creepy facade, something that remained of his past self, or so Y/N hoped.
requests are open, but there’s always a chance that I wouldn’t be able to find time for writing:(
☆ have some fun today ☆
They called him a villain, a heartless killer. Dabi certainly was not the most saint of all the people, but there was something behind his creepy facade, something that remained of his past self, or so Y/N hoped.
When she shyly looked in his ice-blue irises, she bet it was not Dabi, who stared back at her.
That was not an indifferent and cold stare of a killer, instead it was warm and familiar, compassionate even... this were the eyes of a man she once knew, a man who used to love her, a man who was supposed to be dead.
She believed he was dead.
Was it wrong? To let him take her with him, to believe in the existence of a good side of a man, who has become a villain?
It was confusing.
The way his hand caressed her back, affectionately every night until they fell asleep, the way his brows furrowed in concern, at the sight of her quiet tears, his thumbs whipping away the wet traces on her soft cheeks... It was terrifying to realize that he was not the same caring person once outside their house, to know that the same warmth he provided to her, his quirk, was used against society...
"What's it, doll? What's on your mind again?" A low husky voice asked, once they were cuddling on his couch.
He noticed that something was bothering her, tugging on her nerves. He supposed it to be some kind of post traumatic stress, and was patiently helping her to acclimatize. He knew, that he had broken her heart in the past, but once he had her back to himself, he was not going to let that happen ever again. This is why he held her so tight yet so passionate every now and then.
"You know, you may tell me," his fingers went to shuffle her hair, massaging her scalp tenderly.
"I am... I think I am just afraid a little" she muttered, voice muffled with his shirt as her head was rested on his chest.
"Well, what are you talking about, princess?"
The girl let out a sigh. How would he react if she told him that she was afraid of him? Likely he would not be pleased.
"It's hard to..."
"Is it because of me?" He interrupted. A hint of bitterness in his voice.
Y/N clutched his shirt tighter. This was getting dangerous.
"No," she replied almost too fast.
Uneasy silence hang among them.
"Y/N, listen... I am not going to hurt you. I thought this was obvious with the way things have been between us for the last month." If he was anger at her, he hid it very well. "I know I had... changed since our last meeting, I know that you have a right to hate me after everything. you may leave me if you want to, I would understand." he tried to remain indifferent, but a slight crack of his voice was still noticeable.
He stopped his movements. Mentally the man was ready for Y/N to stand up and leave. But she didn't.
He felt her arms snaking around him, her face nuzzling into his chest.
"Toya, I can't..." she sobbed. "I can't lose you... not again... Please, don't make me choose!" She begged.
His fingers were back in her hair, stroking them soothingly. She still saw him not for who he had become? This thought made his heart sore.
"I am not leaving ever again, darling." His calloused lips slowly kissed the crown of her head. "I love you," he whispered "And you love me, right?"
23 notes · View notes
Kindling the Flames
pairing: dabi x jewish!reader
word count: 4,865
summary: the hanukkah au in which dabi bust through your window on the first night of hanukkah and is too wounded to leave aka hanukkah sameach to my fellow jewish folk
warnings: swf but slightly suggestive, brief description of a wound, reader is jewish so mentions of religion, blessings, and other cultural practices, this is like mostly fluff w a hint of angst, i 100% wrote this to satisfy my need for a hanukkah au, let me know if i missed anything
notes: this is my first full fic im posting pls be nice !!
The first time you see Dabi, he’s passed out on the floor of your living room, blood oozing from a nasty cut to his stomach. The bastard tracked snow into your house too. Wet, pinkish footprints litter the entrance to your living room, staining your freshly cleaned carpet. It’s been snowing for hours now, not the fluffy light snow that people wish for either; it’s that heavy, wet snow that fell too quickly and blanketed the world in its bitterness. You’ve always feared the cold; its presence has always filled your veins with ice water. Humans are warm which means life is warm. The absence of warmth means death.
The body on your floor is warm. He’s not dead, then, this mysterious stranger that broke into your house just as you where about to say the shehecheyanu. He doesn’t even feel close to death, which must mean he hasn’t lost that much blood. As you stand to scramble for a phone to call an ambulance, the man on the floor moves, his crimson hand jutting out to grab the skin of your ankle and you have to swallow down what would’ve been a rather pathetic yelp had you not caught it.
“No…no doctors,” the man slurs, lips curled in a halfhearted sneer. “No cops.” His fingers loosen and his hand slumps back down to the floor, unconscious once again. You’re going to call the cops. You’re at least going to call an ambulance. What kind of bleeding man wouldn’t want you to do that? A dangerous one, no doubt.
But you’re looking down at his face, and he doesn’t seem all that dangerous. He seems fragile, like something precious that needed to be handled with care. You have no experience stitching or sewing, but if you could just stop his wound from bleeding, he’d probably last the night. Maybe he even had someone you could call for in the morning.
Dabi wakes up on a sofa he doesn’t remember falling asleep on to the sound of something tearing. When he opens his eyes, your standing a few feet away from him on your tiptoes, patching up your smashed window with duct tape. The sight of you bundled up in a winter jacket armed with nothing but a dwindling role of peeling tape almost makes him laugh.
His stomach hurts too much for him to actually let one out, so he settles instead for a, “the fuck are you doing?” For a moment he doesn’t think you’re going to answer, for a moment he’s worried that maybe the words didn’t actually make their way out of his mouth, but then you’re turning slowly towards him, something akin to anger glistening in your eyes.
“Some asshole smashed through my window last night. I think the legal term for it is breaking and entering, but I don’t make a habit of interacting with the criminal justice system of this country, so I could be wrong.”
And Dabi can’t help it, he is laughing now, wounded stomach be damned, because you must not know who he is if you’re willingly using that tone with him, you must not know that in a matter of minutes he could reduce your entire, dainty house to ash.
His amusement, however, is cut short by the searing pain in his torso. The exchange is still worth it; he’s used to trading pain for a little bit of pleasure.
“Fuck,” he swears suddenly, as the seriousness of his wound finally sets in. “You…you didn’t stitch it?” The statement isn’t technically true. Once you had seen how he was holding his many other wounds together—hundreds of rusty, old staples—you’d figured a few fresh ones couldn’t hurt him. Besides, doctors used staples nowadays too.
“I’m not a nurse,” you tell him plainly, returning to your window, “and you’re the one who didn’t want me to bring you to a hospital. I did the best I could given the situation. It’s not like I planned on having some stranger smash his way into my house of the fist night of Hanukkah.”
“I have to…” he begins, standing up too fast. The speed of the motion makes him lightheaded and sends him spiraling right back onto your couch. Head spinning from blood loss, it takes him a moment to realize you’ve abandoned patching up your window to tend to him. Your nimble fingers are tracing the outline of his pulsing puncture wound.
“Stop,” he shouts, or rather tries to shout. The word comes out whinier than he intended and if his cheeks weren’t already flush from the pain they surely would’ve reddened in embarrassment. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he tries again, remembering who he is.
He doesn’t remember reaching for your hand, but your fingers are intertwined with his, both of your hands hovering dangerously close to his injury. “It hurts?” you say, words coming out as a question rather than a declaration. Realizing how stupid that must have sounded you add, “we have to put pressure on it to quell blood loss. I’m not sure how deep the wound goes, but if it’s any deeper than an inch your odds of bleeding out are…”
The end of the sentence dies in your throat. You’ve made the mistake of looking into his blue eyes, and there’s something troubling in them. He’s like a wounded animal: hurt and afraid. He’s aware he needs help, but he’s unsure how to receive it. His wide eyes dart frantically from his wound to you as he weighs the pros and cons of just burning you and bolting. It’s not like he can let you live after this anyway. Not after you’ve seen him.
But his wound hurts; of course it fucking does; stab wounds always hurt, no matter how deep they go, though that isn’t why he doesn’t want you to touch it. Wounds are easy. Pain is easy. He was weened on it. Pain is familiar. He finds it comforting. Tenderness is its own kind of pain, though not one he has a tolerance for.
“Fine,” he eventually relents, releasing your fingers from his vice grip, “quell away.”
You manage to get the wound to stop bleeding a few minutes and a couple towels later, during which time Dabi had asked if you had any drugs and had nearly tore the wound back open laughing when you returned from the bathroom with a bottle of Tylenol.
After that he’d drifted back to sleep, and you finished taping the gaping hole in your window closed. It was a temporary fix at best, a band-aid over a bullet wound, but too much frigid air was seeping in through it for you to do nothing. Even with the layers of duct tape, a draft bellowed through your home now, a harbinger of another terrible night.
You check on him often. In between frying up latkes and lightening candles. After you’ve eaten dinner and before you brush your teeth. Despite the chill of the room, his body remains warm, like his heart is a coal smoldering inside him. You place the palm of your hand against his forehead one last time and slink off to bed.
He’s still there in the morning. You catch him rummaging through your cabinets around noon, muttering about the distinct lack of coffee in your home. “I can make hot chocolate,” you offer instead.
He stares at you incredulously, “why the fuck would I want hot chocolate?”
“Why would you want coffee?”
The two of you settle instead on orange juice and a breakfast of eggs and toast. He scarfs the food down like a man starved and doesn’t refuse when you offer to fry him up two more eggs. It occurs to you once again as he scarfs those down how fragile the man is.
“You got a name?” you ask him as he polishes off his third glass of orange juice. You’d left the cartoon on the table after realizing this man would sooner choke on his words than use them to ask for help.
“Most people do.”
You tell him yours.
He digs the meat of his knuckles into the brink of his nose. “Dabi,” he relents. “Name’s Dabi.”
The fourth night he asks you about your job and you tell him your agency was burnt to the ground last week. You’ve been furloughed ever since, but you’ve been taking the time to enjoy your holiday. You don’t normally get off for it unless it falls around Christmas.
There’s an ache in his chest as you talk about talk about the event. You were on your lunch break when it had happened and just missed being consumed by the flames. He wants to chalk up the churning in the pit in his stomach to the stab wound, but he knows that isn’t what the knife punctured. His own memories of that day swirl around in his mind as you talk, tumultuous and tormenting, raging like the outside storm. Something akin to regret seeps its way into the hollowness of his bones. It’s been so long since he’s been full of anything except hatred, he’s unsure what to do with it. He figures the only this left to do is apologize; he forces the word sorry past his lips.
You shrug at him as he does it, “it isn’t your fault.”
It is his fault, he thinks as you clear away his dinner plate. You’d fed him fried potato pancakes with sour cream, laughing about how some people prefer apple sauce or ketchup. He didn’t get the joke, but he didn’t celebrate this holiday. He didn’t celebrate anything.
It is his fault, he thinks as he watches you light the shamash. Again, you had laughed about something he didn’t understand, about the difference between a hanukkiah and a menorah. He wondered, then what it must be like to believe in something other than yourself.
It is his fault, he thinks as you hand him a crudely wrapped present. This time you were babbling about how the original holiday had little to do with gift giving. You’d wrapped a piece of the window he’d shattered in an old magazine for him. A keepsake to remember you by, you’d told him, as if he could ever forget someone like you.
The next day he realizes the sound of your voice has begun to sooth him. Listening to it gives him something other than the thoughts tumbling around in his brain to focus on. He starts pestering you with questions so that he can hear it. You don’t seem to mind. If anything, you seem to welcome the idle chatter, even if it is largely one sided.
“We eat fried food to commemorate that even though there was only enough oil to last one night, it kept the menorah lit for eight,” you’re telling him, eyes fixated on the simmering latkes. “You’re supposed to eat sufganiyot too, but I think they’re yucky, so I’ve always respectfully declined those at synagogue or parties.”
“Sufganiyot,” you correct him, edges of your mouth quirking. “Jelly donuts. Horrible stuff. But it’s fried and we have to pay homage to the miracle oil, so most Jewish folk make do and gobble them up.”
When you don’t add anything else, he’s asking, “s’it true that the oil lasted eight nights?”
You laugh, turning one of the latkes over, “no, but it’s a fun story to tell the kids.”
His eyebrow quirks at that. Kids? What kids? You live in a one bedroom house, and he’s been staying with you for days, Surely if you had a family he would’ve at least seen a picture of them. (He’d looked for pictures of them one night after you’d fallen asleep, noiselessly scouring your apartment for tidbits of information about you. All he’d manage to discover is that you had nothing of value, sentimental or otherwise). “You have kids?” he asks just to satiate his curiosity.
You laugh again—Dabi’s unsure if it’s at him or with him— “no.”
“Why not?” he can’t help himself now from asking such invasive questions. You’re cute and kind and clearly care about others. How had someone not snatched you up already? “You’re that age. You have the hips for it.” The last sentence comes tumbling out of his mouth before his brain has the good sense to filter his words.
Your eyebrows raise, “I suppose I just never wanted any.”
He hums, rapping his fingers against your kitchen table, “so what’s it all about then?”
“Hannukah,” he clarifies. “What’s it really celebrate?”
You smile at the question, eyes suddenly swimming with nostalgia. Someone important to you told you the story. Someone important to you passed this knowledge onto you, and now you were passing it onto him. “Victory in battle. The preservation of our culture. The success of a few brave warriors against a society hell-bent on changing or slaughtering them.”
He lets the words ruminate. That’s certainly different that the Hanukkah story he knew. He’s thinking suddenly about your ancestors, about a group of people joining forces to fight oppression, about a group of people who’d rather die fighting against persecutors than succumb to them. “Why,” he trails off, “why not teach the kids that?”
What he wants to ask is how could you not teach kids that? How could you know something so special and spin tales of an elaborate fantasy instead? Do the youth not deserve to know about the courage of their ancestors? Should they be denied such knowledge simply because they are young?
You’re plating him a latke when you respond to both his asked and unasked questions, “oil is more palatable than war.”
When he wakes the sixth day, the throbbing pain in his torso has subsided to a dull pressure. Rationally, Dabi knows he shouldn’t push himself, that he needs more time to heal, but your house is beginning to suffocate him. His clothes smell like the oil you fry your potatoes in; his skin is being held together by the staples from your stapler; everywhere he looks he sees things that are so distinctly you.
You’ve sunken your teeth deep into him, woven bits of your flesh to his.
He has to leave before he becomes more you than himself.
The problem is he’s still bloody from the fight. You didn’t have any clothes that would fit him, so you’d left him in his once white now red tattered t-shirt. And the snow hasn’t stopped falling since the night he broke in. It’s still gradually piling up outside your home. He thinks, maybe, that he could use the snow for cover—no one in their right mind would be out in such a storm—but in his current state he’s not sure that even his fire quirk could protect him from the raging blizzard. He’d fought too hard to get to where he was to let hypothermia or frostbite kill him.
He settles instead for a shower. Another horrible idea. The water feels warm against his skin, and he’s grateful for the water pressure, but everything in the bathroom reminds him of you too. He’s washing himself with your soap, shampooing himself with your shampoo. He wonders if he’s going to leave the house with any parts of him left.
He’s prodding at his healing wound with his fingers, towel tied snuggly around his waist, when you trot into the bathroom. Your eyes immediately find the puckered skin of his most recent battle scar, and you at least have the decency to not let your eyes wander to any others. You back out the door uttering a stream of apologies, and this time when Dabi closes the door behind him, he remembers to fucking lock it.
You stand on the other side of your bathroom door, willing yourself to calm down, trying to remember all of the breathing exercises and grounding techniques you once knew. The sight of Dabi shirtless in your bathroom has your heart lurching free of its confines as if it was trying to break free from where it’s imprisoned in your chest, like it’s trying to shatter the ribs that have for decades served both its protector and jailor.
Resentment quickly takes the place of whatever emotion you’d briefly been captivated by. This is your house. Dabi is the guest here. And he’s made himself a little too comfortable. Everywhere you look there’s something to remind you of the intruder in your home, from the broken window to the stained carpet, to the imprint on the sofa where he slept, to bloody bandages in the trash, to the pairs of dishes and glasses in the sink.
You have to ask him to leave. You have to make him leave.
Instead, you’re hanging one of your robes on the bathroom door for him. You don’t have anything that’ll fit his hulking form beside that, not even a pair of pajama pants. When the snow melts you can pick him up some shirts and sweats. Or not. He isn’t your responsibility. When the snow melts, he has to leave.
He watches you light the candles from his designated spot on the sofa. Always the tall one in the middle first, then the others. You told him the middle candle was called the shamash and it had to be lit first so that it could help light the others. He didn’t understand why you had a designated candle for that when your lighter could do the job just fine. He asks you to repeat the blessings several times. He asks you what they mean. You talk about higher powers.
“I’m not a man of faith,” he tells you. “The way I see it, faith is about as good as fathers are.”
You’d cocked your head at that, “how do you figure?”
He shrugs, “neither are worth believing in. Neither are ever there. At the end of the day, no one is listening to our prayers.”
You inhale slowly as you let his words marinate in your mind, contemplating if you should respond. “I think,” you say gently, averting your eyes, “I think you’ve just never had either.”
The seventh day the electricity and gas shut off. The storm outside has overwhelmed both systems. The electric and gas companies weren’t prepared for this much snow so early in the year. You’ve been walking around the apartment swaddled in your fuzziest pajamas and blankets, obviously suffering for the corporations’ lack of planning, but Dabi has never felt better.
The only thing nagging at him is that he’s barely seen you all day. You’d emerged briefly around noon to make yourself some hot chocolate, swearing when you realized that if the electricity was out, that meant your microwave was out of service, and then slinked right back to the comfort of your bed. It shouldn’t bother him that you’re not around as much; it’s not like he needs you for anything. The staples in his stomach are holding, and he’s familiar with the lay out of your kitchen. He could feed himself if he got hungry.
Still, though, he wants to see you. He misses your idle chatter. You’ve been such a constant in his life these past six days. Your absence is like a phantom limb.
A little after dark he wanders by your room. You’ve left the door open. He could walk right into it if he wanted to, which he does want to, yet he doesn’t. Your bedroom is the only place left in your house he’s yet to explore. He’s seen the rest of you, seen the way you organize your kitchen cabinets, seen the books you keep by the sofa for easy access, seen the skin care products in your medicine cabinet.
You hear him pacing around the outside of your room, just beyond the forbidden boundary of your door. You’d left it open on purpose hoping he’d come by in case he needed anything. It’s too cold in your living room now. The crude duct tape job you’d done on your window is barely holding. The room is saturated with the bitter outside air. You still fear the cold. It foreshadows something wrong.
“Can I help you?” you finally snap, words coming out harsher than you mean for them to. Your body has been eating through calories all day trying to keep itself warm, and no matter how many layers of blankets you’ve burrowed into, the coldness permeates them.
He’s standing directly under your doorframe now, his silhouette barely visible. You think that you may have startled him. Like everything else in the house, he appears frozen, waxen like a statue, but then he’s saying, “you haven’t eaten anything all day.”
“What do you care,” you bite, wincing as the words leave your mouth.
You’re pushing him away, you realize suddenly.
You fear more than just the cold.
“You have to eat something. It’ll help warm you up.” He isn’t sure why that’s what he choses to say to you. He’s never been one to concern himself with the well-being of others. He’s never cared. Caring sucks, which is why Dabi doesn’t make a habit of it. It leads to heartaches and mistakes. As a rule, Dabi doesn’t care, especially for people, but you, well, you’ve somehow become an exception to his rule.
“Can’t cook anything,” you reply.
“Don’t need to. I know you have cereal.”
The two of you eat it on the sofa, taking turns dipping your hands into the box, actions illuminated by the candles of your menorah. The meal isn’t satisfying, but your body is grateful for the extra calories, even if you had to leave the comfort of your bed to consume them. The two of you eat through the entire box in silence. It would seem Dabi’s out of questions to ask you.
“Finished?” he asks when the very last of the cereal has been eaten. He says it because it’s the only thing to say. He says it because it’s the only thing left to say.
His scarred fingers brush yours as he attempts to take the box from you, and you can’t help but moan at the contact. He’s so warm. Impossibly warm. His long, inky fingers are radiating heat like ten miniature rays of sun.
You hope, vainly, that he missed the pathetic sound that smuggled its way past your traitorous lips. For the first time all day, you’re thankful that the lights are out so he can’t see how flush you’re becoming.
He does notice, though—because of course he notices—and he just can’t resist teasing you about it. “What’ssa matter, hmm?” he’s cooing. “You cold princess?” He’s wrapping his hand around your wrist now, pulling it against the exposed flesh of his chest that’s peeking out from under the robe you’d given him.
“Fuck,” you whine, momentarily forgetting yourself, “how are you so warm?” You curl your frost-bitten fingers into the fabric of the robe. The cereal box drops to the floor beneath the two of you forgotten.
“If you weren’t so stubborn,” he preens, “we could’ve done this hourrrs ago.”
The words are mean and condescending, but they do little to deter you from scooching closer to him. How had you not noticed earlier that Dabi was a walking furnace? A mean furnace sure. Probably even a criminal furnace, but if you could really satiate your chilled body with his…
“Dabi…” you whimper, unsure of yourself. You want him to tug you closer. You want him to share his unnatural warmth with you. You want him.
And Dabi, Dabi is sure of himself. He’s scooting closer to where you sit on the sofa, pulling at you, drawing you into him so that you’re flush against his chest. He pulls you up and onto his lap, letting you burry your face into the crook of his neck. His legs are bare and warm beneath your own. You can feel his heat through the thick fabric of your pajama pants.
It should be enough, it is enough, but you selfishly want more. You hunger for his heat. You want to feast on his molten core. You want to tuck yourself inside the robe with him. You want to burrow deep into his skin, take up residence in his marrow.
You settle for pressing your fingers into the meat of his arms, letting them leech the chill from your hands.
“Dabi…” you try again, but he’s silencing you with a “shh, I know, I know,” while he strokes tenderly at your hair. He grabs at one of the many blankets you’d been tucked into earlier and wraps it around the both of you. “’M tired, baby,” he says, “just let me hold you. Let me have you. Let me take care of you. You’ve been such a sweet host, it’s only fair I return the favor.”
You wake to a steaming cup of hot chocolate in the morning. Dabi won’t tell you how he’d managed it, only that he had his ways. You cup your hands gratefully around the mug as he scoops you back into his lap, your protests falling on deaf ears.
“’S healed,” he mumbles into the top of your head as you remind him about his stab wound that keeps threatening to split back open. “But if you’re that worried about it, I suppose you can kiss it and make it better.”
You wrinkle your nose at the suggesting, taking a sip of your drink, letting it warm you from the inside out. The hot chocolate is both bitter and sweet on your tongue. The combination is safe and familiar. It’s somehow the best cup of hot chocolate you’ve ever had.
He asks you to read to him, which surprises you. You don’t tell him no. You pick up one of the paperback novels you’ve been working your way through and flip all the way back to the first chapter. The two of you take turns reading to each other until the sun dips to far beneath the horizon for either of you to make out any more words.
Your lighter refuses to work that night. You’ve been trying to coax a spark out of it for almost ten minutes now. When he tells you the thing is probably out of juice, your shoulders sag in defeat.
And fuck, the forlorn look in your eyes shatters something inside him. He recalls, briefly what it was like to be devoting to something. He remembers, fleetingly, what it was like to want to be a hero. “Close your eyes,” he tells you.
You blink at him, “why?”
“Just be a good girl and do as your told.”
When you open your eyes again, nine glowing candles greet them, their dim orange glow illuminating your tiny living room, their shadows dancing on the walls around the two of you. The urge to ask him how he managed to light your menorah is overwhelming, but you’re certain he’ll just tell you that he has his ways. You ask him anyway.
“Hannukah miracle,” he shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Shh,” he says, pulling you snug against him. “Mysteries are more palatable than truths. Besides, don’t you have some blessings recite?”
As he listens to you sing your prayer, he thinks vaguely about higher powers. Until now he’d always been worried that there was something out there watching him somewhere, omnipotent, keeping track of all of his sins so that when death finally came for him his place in Hell would already be carved out; now he’s worried there was never anyone watching at all.
He supposes it doesn’t matter if there’s someone out their listening to your prayers because he’s with you and he hears you. Your body thrums gently against his as you finish off the final blessing. He rubs the place below your bottom rib absentmindedly, thinking about genesis and creation and light.
He thinks about how Adam so willingly bit into the forbidden fruit, not out of naivete, but because the woman that he loved asked him too, because part of the fruit lived within her, which meant he needed part of it to live within him too. Dabi doesn’t think he could refuse the offering of a beloved one. He’d tear ravenously into forbidden fruits too.
In this scenario, Dabi’s unsure if you’re the temptress or the tempting. Are you Eve, Adam’s beloved, or are you the fruit, humanity’s beginning? Has your home become his Eden? What will he do with all the newfound knowledge bore to him from the sacred tree?
You turn to him after a couple of minutes, eager eyes illuminated by the golden flames, “Remind me, have I taught you the art of playing dreidel yet?”
He shakes his head and lets you guide him back into the living room where the two of you play dreidel until the flames from the menorah burn too low to read the lettering. He sits holding you on the sofa long after the candles burn out.
21 notes · View notes
Sho- the guy that hurt me in the past is here at my job today 😭 please keep me safe
What did he do-
You know what, save the story for later I’ll be right back, I might be gone for a little bit, but I’ll be back in time for dinner alright.
22 notes · View notes
SHE’S MY FAVOURITE GIRL. | K.BAKUGOU.
OCT 29TH. KATSUKI BAKUGOU + POSSESIVE SEX.
KINKTOBER M.LIST. / M.LIST. / TAGLIST. / KOFI.
ৎ୭ synopsis. your best friend’s girlfriend doesn’t like you, but can you really blame her? i mean, you’re perfect ! pretty, smart, likeable and you have her boyfriend wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.
ৎ୭ wc. 12222.
ৎ୭ genre. mdni, 18+, smut, dark content, college!au.
ৎ୭ cw. please read ! heavy smut, characters aged up to twenties, fem!reader, best friend!bakugou, spit!kink, slight!manipulation, dub-con, cheating, thigh-riding, handjobs, cherry chasing, recording, cumplay, tummy bulges, possesive sex, unprotected sex. not proof read, beware of errors.
ৎ୭ author’s note. happy friday everyone!! ah!! my final day of kinktober! i’d like to thank everyone who read and were excited for my fics, it’s honestly been really fun taking part in kinktober this year and hopefully i’ll join the next! i guess you could call this the grand finale, until the mikey fic comes along, but for now thank you and please enjoy <3 ( also i finished writing this at 6am today so i apologise if it’s riddled with typos !! )
ৎ୭ now playing. tonight - doja cat ft eve.
katsuki bakugou’s been your best friend since as long as you can remember.
your mothers had always been close, kept in contact after they graduated and reunited when word spread they’d be having babies around the same time. katsuki, of course, came first— nothing could ever beat him and you always followed, popping out just months later.
just like your parents, you went through everything together. took your first bubble bath side by side, learned to crawl in unison— stood tall and walked in tune with one another. you’d punched out bakugou’s first wobbly tooth in first grade and he’d comforted you after you cried on your first day of school.
you were completely and utterly inseparable.
joined at the hip, you picked each other for every team in middle school and studied together for every honours class test in high school and when crushes came into play, bakugou never once looked away from you. ‘why the fuck would i need other girls when i have you?’ he’d say, lips pulled into a toothy smirk, vermillion eyes bright and mischievous as he’d try to shove whatever spicy hellish concoction he’d made for his bento that day, down your throat.
and gradually, whenever katsuki looked at you, a warm feeling would blossom in your chest— he made you feel like the only girl in the world, like you were his favourite girl.
people always told you how cute you were together, katsuki bakugou and his sweet little girlfriend yn...and you’d believe them. doodled his name in every one of your notebooks, hearts over the ‘i’ and your future children’s names scrawled in loopy font underneath. there was no one more perfect for your best friend than well...you.
except bakugou didn’t seem to think that way, not when moves halfway across the country for a college that you guys had never even talked about. your best friend left you behind but you would be fine, there were facetime calls and text messages and 3AM movie nights over discord while you both half awake and stealing glances at one another until one of you drifted off first. your best, your katsuki...he would tell you stories of the guys he’d met at the dorm, the ones he’d tell to back off while they tried to flirt with you over call. he would ask about your day, your classes— tell you that he was so proud of his girl and the praise always shot right to your tummy. the praise would make you touch yourself after your screens went dark and you were alone in your dorm with his name on your lips.
katsuki, katsuki, katsuki.
you’d chant his name like he was yours, like he was the one making you feel good and not the tiny fingers you have stuffed in your little cunt. you think of him when you cum, when you fall asleep, when you wake up in the morning… and maybe you’re a little obsessed...but after all, he’s all you’ve ever known. in your mind, bakugou was yours, he was always yours.
until he wasn’t. until he was hers.
“i’ve met someone,” the blonde mumbles to you on call one night, he’s sheepish and embarrassed— something that katsuki rarely ever expresses so you know he’s being serious. immediately your heart sinks, jealousy and anger curling around your beating heart and blackening it—how dare he? who is she? you and katsuki were made for each other, college wasn’t supposed to change that. and if your best friend sees your face twist into a frown, he doesn’t say anything about it. “she’s sweet, got a feelin’ yer gonna like her.”
you won’t, you already don’t.
you hate whoever the hell she is.
and katsuki sees that written all over your face, in the downturned corners of your glossed lips and the crinkle between your eyebrows. “she’s great,” he tries again, tries to reassure you because he hates seeing you upset and hates being the cause of it even more. “i promise.”
there’s no way she compares to you, she couldn’t be greater than you. “‘m sure she is.”
“yer upset with me, aren’cha?” the blonde asks you, clearly worried as his lips pull into a frown and you remember the sense of pride shooting through your veins at making him feel guilty. bakugou deserved that, especially after choosing some girl over you. “don’t be—“
“‘m not,” you say back, rolling your eyes and putting on a disinterested act just to vy for more of bakugou’s attention— you want his eyes on you and only you, not the bitch who’s swiped him from right underneath your nose. your lips push into a pout as you look away from the screen, shrugging your shoulders into the cool night while your childhood best friend rubs a hand over his face, clearly apologetic for having to break the news to you this way.
“c’mon angel, yn, look at me...don’t be fuckin’ mad, okay? don’t deny it either, already know that’cha are,” bakugou coos, rough as he leans into his shit-quality facetime and presents you with his furrowed brows and darling ruby gen eyes that you love so much. “you’re always gonna be my favourite girl, okay?”
you can’t help the smile that curls on your lips. “mkay,” you say in a quiet babyish voice and relief floods your best friend’s face. “do you promise?”
“pinky fuckin’ promise.”
but as it turns out, bakugou had lied.
his girlfriend wasn’t as great as he’d made out to be— in fact she was worse. her name doesn’t come up in the conversations the two of you have over your weekly calls but you manage to pull the handles of her social media accounts from between the loose lips of katsuki’s roommate— kirishima, with the promise of a few lewd videos and a chance for him to hook up with you. the red head’s chance with you wouldn’t come however, since you intended to save yourself only for the blonde with the firm, iron hot grip on your heart and all feelings for him replaced any guilt you had for manipulating kirishima the way you did.
nonetheless, ochako uraraka is the name he gives you and you decide that she’s nowhere near bakugou’s type. ‘yer gonna love her,’ is what you remember him telling you as you scroll through her instagram accounts— you hate her, is what you think. the girl is try hard, she wants to be cute but she looks annoying— she takes bakugou on dates you know he would hate, makes stupid comments about the stuff he loves that she dislikes, forces him to try foods you know he would turn his nose up at when he was back home with you. you pick at everything you can about her and try to convince your best friend that he’s making a terrible mistake but no matter what you say it’s always; ‘jus give her a chance, y’gotta warm up to her,’ and ‘i really like her, you will too.’
and you can’t, you won’t, you refuse. you refuse to acknowledge ochako as anything close to perfect for katsuki, no matter how hard he tries because you’re the one for him, you’re perfect for him and in your books she simply didn’t make the cut.
it’s not like ochako adored you either, the first time you’d met her guard was up miles high despite the sweet smile she’d given you in the presence of your best friend— and it’s not like you could blame her, in katsuki’s eyes, you appeared flawless… a vision of what a woman by his side should look like and that bothered her.
it bothered her to the point where she would try to sabotage your friendship with her boyfriend whatever chance she got— pretending to like your silly childhood games, kissing him when she was sure you were looking, prematurely ending the nights in which you hung out with bakugou by strategically placing a hand on his thigh and mumbling dirty words into his earn until his cheeks turned pink and he was rushing away with her. she was coming between you and your best friend and you hated it.
you hated her.
so you made sure of it, at your next visit to katsuki you’d win him back and remind him of who his favourite girl really was.
“s-she hates me suki! she...s-she said i wasn’t good enough to be your friend!”
you hiccup your way through practiced words as bakugou locks the door to his frat house’s mancave— crossing the room in three short strides to be right by your side again. with soft hands, you cling to his toned arms and squeeze them beneath your grip, pressing yourself impossibly closer to your best friend. tears stream down your cheeks— fat droplets of saltine liquid clumped in your pretty lashes while you cling to him, small sniffles echoing through the room and just barely heard over the thumping bass of the music outside.
katsuki’s face, aged like fine wine over the years— ruby stone set eyes softening, falls flat at the sight of you so distraught and upset. it kills him inside to see you cry.
it hurts him more than a punch to the gut.
false waterworks and a wobbling bottom lip were all it took to get katsuki bakugou alone and away from the welcome party he’d thrown in your honour. the stardust sparkles in your watering eyes causing an unexplainable tightness in his chest, enough for him to pull you into the nearest empty room to comfort you. it’s not like you had lied about your reason for tearing up anyways— just moments before your best friend’s girlfriend, ochako, and her equally annoying buddy, mina, had cornered you in the hallway to confront you.
“you should go for hanta, or denki or maybe even eijirou. he really likes you,” the brunette had told you, swirling her solo cup of booze as her gaze swept over you. “so long as you back off of katsuki,”
you’d grinned with faux innocence, pushing yourself off of the wall the two girls had backed you up against to invade her personal space. “you’re sweet ‘chako!” you had squealed, revelling in her offended expression as you latched onto her as if you were best buds. “thanks but no thanks! all eiji knows is ass and good pussy. which you have neither of. my eyes are on suki.”
ochako had glared and grunted, stumbling back to get rid of you. “that wasn’t an offer,” came her snappy response. “you’re too clingy, too childish for him. katsuki wants a real woman.”
thinking of the bitch’s words only makes you angrier, makes you act harder to draw sympathy from katsuki so you can execute your plan of revenge. you were going to show her, show him— that you were just as much of a woman as ochako was and that he’d been making a huge mistake just by being with her. “she said i was too immature, that she’d get rid of me,” you blubber, jutting out your lower lip even more. “you won’t do that, right suki?” your acting could be a gift from god, an oscar winning performance one might say. you could tell by the unhappy twitch of bakugou’s frown— deeper, harder, that you’ve got him in a chokehold of guilt.
“fuck, y’really torn up about this huh, angel?” bakugou sighs, thick brows knitted together. you almost laugh, the sound coming out as a light gasp— like you would let ochako hurt your feelings. she had absolutely nothing on you. you were katsuki’s sun stars and moon, she would see that shortly. he moves towards the door, reaching for the handle. “i’ll go ‘n talk to her.”
“no!” you huff shortly, gripping him tighter and tugging your best friend over to the couch in the corner of the room— the route you’ve planned in your head and the final destination katsuki’s lap. “want you to stay, can you help me feel better, suki?” he looks to you as if he doesn’t know what to think, but how can he say no to you? he never can, not when you’ve been by his side your whole life and put his needs before your own. you throw him down onto the couch in one swift move, slotting yourself into his lap just like you would when you were back home— testing katsuki’s limits before your plan comes into play.
he accepts you at first, nodding his head with a warm hand rubbing on your back. hugs don’t count as cheating right? bakugou thinks. he couldn’t think to keep you at arms length, not when you were so warm— not when you were the sweetest person he’d ever met crying over a fight with his girlfriend. he’s conflicted, he knows he should be out there with ochako but you’re his best friend, you would do the same for him...right?
distracted by his thoughts and his seemingly endless list of problems brewing between his girlfriend and his best friend— katsuki almost doesn’t notice the way you slowly start to grind against his thigh, your chubby cheek pressed against his heartbeat to muffle the small whimpers gathered in your glossed lips and wet tongue. almost.
bakugou, before anything else, is a hormonal college boy— turned on at the slightest feeling or scent of good pussy. you know he won’t be able to resist you and the warmth of your sweet folds as they brush over his rough jeans, the beginning of your arousal sinking through the black denim fabric. you know that he couldn’t say no despite the dig of his rough fingertips into your supple waist— hormones clouding the red rhinestones in his irises when you pull back from his chest to look at him. “h-hey...hey! the fuck are you doin’ brat?” the blonde curses despite the pillow cushion to his words, he’s never harsh with you, he doesn’t want to upset you. your hips shift against katsuki’s thigh just right and your smaller-than-his fingers sink into his right arm in a tight grip as you cry his name. “fuckin’ stop with that!”
bottom lip wobbling, your face crumples and so does katsuki’s. he doesn’t want to see you cry, even if you grinding down against the meat of his muscled thighs is wrong, even if it drives him insane to feel your needy hole clench around against him. “w-what? what’s the matter ka’suki?” your words are let out with a faux whimper, faking your hurt until you make it. anything to get the plan to ruin his stupid little relationship going. “you don’ wanna help me? am i doin’ somethin’ wrong?”
you know just what to say, after all no one knows bakugou better than you— it just makes manipulating him way too easy. “what? no? the fuck are you on ‘bout?” katsuki struggles to get out, large hands attempting to push you off again while his thighs tell a different story, flexing the right one beneath your cunt, holding back a groan when your whole body shudders and your pretty eyes cross. “‘course i wanna help you angel, jus’ not like this. got a girlfriend now—“
“but you promised!” you sigh, putting on a bit more of a show now that you know you have your best friend’s attention. your fingers dance down towards the hem of your skirt, hips never stopping their straddled dance over katsuki’s thigh. “you said you’d help me feel better, ‘m your best friend suki, you want me to feel better right?” your tone is accusing with your facial expression innocent to match— you tug your skirt up, pinching the fabric between two fingers to reveal your naked pussy, rosy and puffy lips spread open against his jeans with a glisten as you leave a wet patch in your wake of grinding.
“fuck, i did...yeah i fuckin’ did,” bakugou sighs hotly and leans back into the couch, his large hands swallowing your thighs as if he wants to keep them spread— hazy eyes trained on the way your clit becomes swollen and bumps his thigh with every rut of your precious hips to get yourself off. “but angel,” he almost whines. “my girlfriend…”
grinning, you take his hands from your thighs and guide them slowly across the expanse of your body. “e‘nough ‘bout ochako,” you say, sliding his palms across your tummy, fingers feather light as they walk up your rib cage, squeeze your thighs again before brushing roughly under the swell of your breasts— calloused pads of his finger tips tweaking your nipple from under your shirt, as you’d forgone a bra too. “she’s not more important to you than me, right katsuki?”
you say his full name this time, the three syllables hanging onto the gloss that coats your lips and only briefly pulling his gaze away from your sticky cunt and catching your best friend’s attention. his thigh twitches at the sight of you, top pushed up over your breast and skirt lifted just so he can get a peek at the fruit in eve’s garden, and like the story goes the snake in his ear is telling bakugou to take a bite out of you and what you gave to offer.
bouncing his thigh against your blossoming cunt, bakugou breathes his next words. “never, fuckin’ never.”
in victory, your arms wrap around bakugou’s neck for support before you begin to lift and drop your hips slowly against his leg as he gives it the momentum it needs to watch your pretty cunt cum. “then help me forget how mean she was to me, kay?” you use a faux timid tone, grinding down in your friends lap with a front row seat to the blonde losing his sanity over how shiny your sweet slit has become just from humping him.
“f-fuck, okay angel, okay...” he rasps nervously, hands finding your hips again to grind you along. “whaddya need?” bakugou’s eyes don’t dare to tear away from your mound, watching it wetly glide across his leg and you swear you see his eyes, vermillion in colour, roll back as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “jesus…” he adds, flexing his leg again and only looking up when you simper his name and your slit drools just that little bit more.
your body is wracked with a set of trembles as heat starts to boil between your thighs, adding to the strings of slick that tie you down to katsuki’s. “need you to touch me,” you speak, your voice just as shaky as the rest of you while you rut against bakugou to your heart’s content. “gonna take off my shirt, okay? t-then my skirt. want you to see how good you make me feel, suki.”
dangerous blood red eyes shimmer with something you’ve never seen in them before— you can tell just by looking into them that katsuki wants you in so many ways, more than just you being his best friend and his sudden desire for you makes the fire in your lower belly burn brighter. the sight of him like this, eye-level with you, you in his lap while his cheeks grow tinted with berry red and flush under the neon simmering of LED lights only serves to make slick pool beneath you— destroying his pants with your arousal, katsuki looks desperate for a taste of you, adam’s apple bobbing as his dazed gaze flicking from your face to your puffy folds, exposed to the room’s chilly air.
he’s pussy whipped already and hasn’t even had the best of you yet.
the blonde practically whimpers as you pull away from him to take of your shirt, a soft curse falling from between his chapped lips as you throw it into the abyss of the room— the fabric seemingly taking his feelings of guilt towards ochako with him, for his hands scarred and calloused settle on the bare fat of your waist to help pull you along, dragging you by your ankle tot the high heavens of pleasure, burning pads of his fingers sinking into your supple flesh. “fuck, have y’always been this fuckin’ soft?” your best friend muses, brows creased and cock swelling beneath his jeans.
you’re sly, like a vixen prowling through the forest and katsuki is the prey that can’t escape the grip your sharp teeth and claws have on him. “yeah suki,” comes your sweet sigh, leaning forward in his grip until your nose bumps his chin, until your lips are a breath’s width apart. “you like touching me, right? i’ve always wanted you to touch me like this,”
“jesus fuck, baby,” katsuki bleats weakly, swallowing thick and you feel his chest vibrate with a shaky breath from your proximity to him. for a moment, he hesitates, the thoughts in his brain trying to decide between right and wrong, between his girlfriend and his best friend before he takes the plunge and slides a hand beneath your skirt to pull at your peachy ass— the other wrestling with the clasp of your bra, making you grin in victory. “yeah...fuck yeah, love touchin’ you like this...f-fuck, i can’t believe ‘m doin this,” he slurs but mirrors your smile as he pulls your bra away and tosses it away to join your lost shirt. “y’fuckin’ pretty baby, you...you know that right?”
of course you, you know that you— you’ve always been his type, why couldn’t he see that?
your nipples pebble once they hit the cold air and instead of giving him a response, you let your fingers tangle in the softness of his blonde hair and pull bakugou down to your chest. “show me, tell me how pretty you think i am,” your voice is soft, breathless as you glide across his thigh, despite the edgy command you give him and bakugou listens like the little pervert he’s become— before you know it, the heat of his sweltering mouth encapsulates your nipple and his pink tongue runs circles over your areola, tasting the light perspiration on your skin as he grunts softly against it. “o-oh! ka’suki!” you cry, fingers tightening their hold on his hair.
slurping noises shoot through the air, forming their tune in harmony with your entticng moans, airy light and ringing through bakugou’s ears. he can’t help but fall for the way you sound— delirious with arousal as he guides you back and forth over his leg, growing so rough that your clit occasionally bumps the curve of his knee, growing bold enough to grind it against you and make you squeal, force you to gush, anything. he just needs a reaction from you to soothe the aching throb to his fat cock. “god, yer tits are just as pretty as the rest of ya, so fucking pretty, so fucking—” the boy’s voice is muffled as you force his mouth onto your unattended breast, breath hitching as his teetth sink into the supple mound from shock or maybe even from revenge as you practically manhandle him and manipulate him to pleasure you at your will.
“shut up, katsuki,” you grunt impatiently but keep your voice innocent, face contorting with bliss as he follows your lead, sucking and biting at your breast while his calloused hand squeezes at the other. “o-oh! just like that— like that! y’gonna make me cum like that ‘suki!” bakugou looks up at you wide-eyed and hungry, seeming perfectly content with his mouth full of your tits and his thigh coated in the essence that bleeds from your pretty pussy as you circle your hips over him needily. he can’t help but wonder what you look like when you’re close to tipping off of the edge, can't help but wonder whether your cherry bitten lips will push into a pout or if they’ll fall open as you moan from deep within your chest— if your nose will scrunch and your eyelids will flutter just as much as your creamy cunt.
bakugou doesn’t have to wait much longer for his lack of patience and brash approach to everything has him swiping his thumb eagerly across your clit— stringing you along the path to your orgasm as a tight knot builds within your lower tummy. your body reacts to his touch, making him hum against your salvia stained breasts while you start to shake, struggling to even make one stroke of your hips over his thighs and fisting more and more locks of his sun-kissed hair between your trembling fingers.
“you like that?” bakugou hums observantly, his mouth letting go of your breast with a pop, tracks of his own drool running down his chin— you nod your head, picking up the pace of your hips just to make yourself cum to the point where you’re practically bouncing on katsuki’s thigh, pretty tits swaying in his face and activating a predatory look in the flecks of his red rouge eyes. “yeah y’fuckin do baby, holy shit...everythin’ ‘bout you is s’fuckin’ perfect, could watch you all day, let you use me all day. jus’ wanna see you cum, angel…” he drawls on and on, drawing roughly cut shapes into your puffy clit, groaning at the sight of your pillowy folds and the strings of slick leaking from between them as they connect you to his thigh messily. “wanna watch y’come apart just like this, c’mon you can do it, fuck angel, fuck…”
and if it weren’t for that bitch, ochako uraraka...maybe his words could come true.
“katsuki! ‘m gonna...gonna— !” but it’s hard to focus on hating her for stealing away your katsuki when he’s making you cum like a bitch in heat all over his thigh. the neon lights reflect in your teary eyes as your best friend pushes you head first into an orgasm, the pressure building up in the pits of your stomach unwinding faster than you can register as a stream of clear liquid gushes from your heated mound. “‘hmygod, ‘suki...don’t stop, please don’t stop!” your eyes cross and thighs lock around bakugou’s hand but he can’t bring himself to pull it away from your cute little cunt as the circles on your swollen nub grow tighter and tighter, pulling more yet tinier sports of your release out of you until you can barely breathe. he watches you eagerly, taking in the sight of your skin shining with sweat under the gentle hum of the LED lighting in the room along with your soft lip caught between your teeth and the tiny, shaky whimpers you let out.
bakugou could just cum from the sight of you alone, the view of you swaying and dizzy from cumming for him, making his cock stir in his pants. you collapse against your best friend’s chest until the world stops spinning, letting the scent of him bring you back down to earth and put the objects in the room back in their place. “holy shit, angel. did y’just fuckin’ squirt f’me?” he asks tenderly, pulling his fingers from between your messy eyes and cursing under his breath when he spreads them apart and watches the slick separate with them.
“mhm, was all for you katsuki,” lazily, you smile and attempt to shimmy off your now ruined skirt— making a b-line for the hem of katsuki’s shirt next, pushing it up to reveal his golden skin and perfectly carved abs. “you can taste me if you like,” your voice acts like silk running through his ears as you let go of his shirt, giggling at the crease of curiosity between bakugou’s brows as you push his fingers towards his mouth and force them inside. he makes a muffled noise of surprise but a fire lights up amongst the almost brown flecks in his ruby gem eyes at the taste of your sweet nectar against his tongue. “am i sweet, suki?” you add huskily.
he nods slowly, looking at you like a child who’s been given candy while cleaning off his fingers quickly, hungrily as if your cum is laced with some kind of additive— he can feel himself growing addicted. “so sweet baby, s’good,” he mumbles, letting you tear through his shirt.
“i want you to have more of me, katsuki, don’t you want more of me?” you coo innocently, hands that could only be dwarfed by bakugou, dancing down his frame on the path towards his zipper before he stops you. wide eyed, you look at him and cock your head in mock confusion, bottom lip jutting out as you prepare for a fake display of tears. “w-what’s wrong?”
“ochako, i—” katsuki tells you as if he’s had a sudden epiphany, realising where he is and what he’s doing and trying to push you off. he’s never been a cheater, he’d always thought he could be loyal but all it took was one bat of your eyelids up at him and he was feasting on the sight of your rosy, saccharine pussy as if it were his last meal... what the fuck was katsuki bakugou doing? he didn’t need to fuck you to make you feel better, he didn’t need to fuck you at all— not with his girlfriend waiting for him outside. his face is stricken with guilt when he looks at you, but not for cheating on ochako, not for hurting her...but for you and your pouty lips and your bambi eyes that reel him back in and remind him that you could never be second place. not to ochako, not to anyone. “should be gettin’ back to her, think we’ve gone too far here.”
hearing her name fall from his lips after the little show you’d put on for katsuki fills you with rage, tingling from the top of your head right down to your toes and you huff like a petulant child, smaller-than-his hand shooting out to grab him by his growing erection before he can leave. “but you should be with me!” you whinge, squeezing katsuki’s bulge from over his pants, fighting the genuine tears in your eyes, unable to believe that his stupid girlfriend has the one up on you. “she’s been so mean to me and you let her, katsuki! you should be here, making it up to me,”
you shake your head, furiously working your way through bakugou’s jeans and boxers as you sniff away saltine tears. “but no!” a small smirk crossing your lips at the hiss your best friend lets out when your soft palm comes into contact with his half-hard erection. “you’re mine, you’re my best friend and i’m supposed to be your favourite! ‘m not letting her take you away from me.”
a response lays meekly on bakugou’s lips as he spreads his tongue across them, he should try harder to fight you off and snap you out of your senses, tell you that you can’t do this—that he can’t do this but he’s already revelling in the way you start to palm him as you tug him free from his clothes. your hand is cushioned as it runs from the base of his dick to his achy tip, milky white cascading down katsuki’s length and catching on his throbbing veins that stand at attention— and fuck you’re so good at this, using your fingers to swipe at the precum beading from your best friend’s slit, pushing your thumb into it just to see his body come alive with shivers. your eyes stay trained on his face, memorising every twitch and parting of his lips from how good you make him feel whenever you squeeze him or speed up the pace of your hand.
you’re so fucking good, so good that he starts to forget all about her.
soon enough, katsuki’s body melts into yours and he’s tugging you further into his lap by the ass as if it’s second nature— it feels right to have you straddling his thick thighs as he man-spreads them wide , even better to pull you close by the back of your neck and let his strawberry tongue roll over the seams of your cherry lips to taste the gloss there and he grows eager to taste more of you, have all of you— hungrier for your touch more than he ever was for ochako’s. you can feel your sense of desire growing too—the speed of your hand that pumps katsuki getting faster and faster until lewd and wet noises twist within the heavy, lustful air between you both, his cock dribbling endless amounts of his essence and painting your knuckles with shades of his incoming release.
bakugou’s world becomes centred around you, your name heavy on his tongue—viscous and filling his mouth like honey until he’s drowning in a pool of ecstasy and dragging you down with him. “the way ya touch my cock, fuck angel. just like fuckin’ that, you’re doin’ so good you might just make me cum…you want that? want my fuckin’ cum?” the words slip out before his brain can register what he’s saying or who he’s saying it to, letting you take control of his pleasure as your tiny hands squeeze at his heavy balls— the pair of them working his angry shaft, bright red and fiery at the tip. in fact, bakugou doesn’t care that he’s dirty talking you instead of his girlfriend, at least not in the moment— thrusting himself into the slick warmth of your hands and pathetically using them as his own personal fleshlight, leaking onto the couch beneath your clammy bodies he doesn’t fucking care.
because ochako has never been as bold in the bedroom as you have on this very night, ochako has never made him feel this good.
“i want you to cum for me so badly, suki! i’ve always dreamed of what it was like,” you coo sweetly against his lips, pressing your body flush against bakugou’s so he can feel every bounce of your tits against his naked chest from where his erratic thrusts into your gentle grip make you jolt up and down— your nipples brushing against his to make him hiss. “always wondered about how you might taste,” your voice is breathy while you slot your mouth against his, humming as they fit together perfectly, swapping spit messily while katsuki tugs on your waist and your hair to manhandle you into the perfect position, just the way he wants. “how it might feel to be covered in all your cum,”
“shit, yer fuckin’ filthy, ‘chako would never say nasty shit like that,” bakugou let’s out a colourful stream of curses when you pull away, connected by strings of your exchanged spit— cupids’ bows wet from your searing kisses. “makes me wanna ruin ya, makes me wanna fuck you s’bad,” your heart flutters with pride at how willing your best friend is to give into the sin and adultery you’ve offered up for him despite the fact that the handjob you’re giving him is a one way ticket to the gates of heaven— that’s just how good you feel. you relish the yelp of surprise katsuki let’s out when you dribble your shared saliva down into his painfully hard shaft, letting it mix with his constant flow of thick precum. he groans from deep within the pits of his chest, the seed of arousal sprouting and wrapping its vines around his rib cage until filthy praises blossom in your best friend’s mouth, whispers of ‘just like that,’ and ‘fuck angel, so fuckin’ good to me,’ and ‘ain’t never had it like this,’ laid out across your skin from where he’s buried his face into your neck.
if it weren’t for your bodies being so close, you might not have heard his praise over the raunchy, damp sounds of his balls hitting your closed fist— katsuki fucking your hand as if it were your pretty cunt, languidly thrusting into your grip and chasing his own release. his world his hazy, blurry, with you as his only grounding focus, with you being the only thing on his fucking mind. he whimpers needily into your skin and only pulls back for air, the need written across his face in pink ink that’s flushed against his cheeks— the shade almost rivalling his blissful ruby orbs that flutter every time you fondle his balls.
you can’t help but grin, tilting katsuki’s chin up to kiss him again before you circle his blazing, sticky cockhead with your thumb. “i’m so much better than ochako, suki, i’m everythin’ you’ll ever need,” you say cutely and airily, grinning wider especially when katsuki nods his head eagerly, letting you guide him to his high. “isn’t that right, suki?”
his adam’s apple bobs, vermillion eyes watering and fuck he looks even prettier than you imagined— the sight of katsuki with his head thrown back against the couch and his mouth hanging open, saliva weighty on his tongue while sweat beads at his hairline and his hips jump up and up into your heavenly hand. “y’gonna make me cum angel, fuckin’ make me cum, make me cum,” he growls roughly into the hot air, the sweat running down his neck illuminated by the buzz of the LED lights. the sight creates a pleasant fizz in your brain, committed to memory as you tug on his fat cock harder, faster. “please, ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum so hard baby, don’cha want it?”
bakugou barely feels shameless for begging his best friend to cum, dopamine rattling around in his brain, heart thumping against his rib cage as you rub him off, spitting on his cock again and making every so much wetter, making it so much harder for him to hold off his orgasm.
“say it.” you seethe in his direction, never slowing down the speed of your hand. “tell me that i’m better than her and i’ll let you cum, kay?” you’re bold enough to reach down and slap his balls, coaxing your best friend towards his high, while his alluring and dangerously addictive moans shoot out into the air. bakugou’s head shakes along with the rest of his body, eyes screwing shut while his hips chase your teasing fingers that press down on the forked blue vein wrapped around his cock every time his hips pull back and out of the warmth of your hand. you can’t decide if his telling you no, or if he’s trying to fight his body’s instincts to chase it’s high, but you repeat the action, slapping down on his heavy balls again to make his entire frame jolt. “say it.”
katsuki pants, letting go of your hips to run a hand through his sex mussed locks as his eyes snap open to lock into yours. “you’re so much fuckin’ better than her, could never make me cum like this, only you angel, only fucking you. god, fuck—!” he babbles brainlessly, barely holding onto his last threads of sanity.
“cum f’me, katsuki,” you command the blonde gently, with one last squeeze of your messy hand to his pulsating dick as it pistons through your closed fist.
your whispered words are all bakugou needs before his entire body is overcome with a set of trembles and you don’t dare to stop the flick of your wrist around his cock as he tumbles through the rush of his high, struggling to keep up with you as colours run wild behind his crystallised red eyes. curse words and praises alike line his lips, katsuki moaning your name haughty and loud enough that you almost fear that people will hear you both from outside— his head drops to the back of the couch, chest heaving as his hips stumble and give out, releasing thick ropes of white hot cum onto your sex tainted knuckles and hand, only adding further to the sweaty glaze coating both of your bodies. the soft, incomplete whimpers that leave your best friend make you smile wickedly, evilly as he comes down from his mind-blowing high.
oh ochako ururaka, if only you could see your boyfriend now.
if only you could see what a real woman does to him.
“fuck baby, that was…” bakugou lifts his head, golden and scarred skin shining with sweat as he looks to you, only cutting himself off with a low groan to watch you suck the cum from your fingers before you lean over his twitching frame to spit his own release back into his mouth. the blonde swallows diligently, cupping the back of your head with a large hand before you can pull away and kissing you sloppily, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth so the both of you can share his taste, moaning at it in unison. “that was fuckin amazin’, you really are a filthy little minx aren’cha, angel?”
you nod bashfully, sidling further up katsuki’s lap until you’re positioned just over his sensitive cock— feeling the remains of his orgasm against your needy cunt that’s already dripping wet from pleasuring him. “s’all for you katsuki, s’always been for you,” you tell him, looking down at the blonde with hooded eyes while experimentally grinding your soft mound over his softening dick, waiting for a reaction or for him to push you off. “been saving myself for you, for years, wanted you to have all of me my first time, suki.” you add earnestly while his rough fingers draw contrastingly soft shapes into the soft swell of your doughy thigh.
you’re met with the complete opposite of what you expected, instead of shoving you away and telling you ‘enough was enough,’ bakugou suddenly grips the meat of your thighs to keep you hooked over his lap— looking at you with a new and lustful fire burning between the flecks of his eyes. “yer…yer a virgin?” he asks quietly, the both of you sucking in a breath as his sticky, cum-stained length twitches to life beneath your awaiting pussy.
you nod again, head tilting back when katsuki begins to grind up into you slowly. “o-ochako said i wasn’t…w-wasn’t woman enough for…for you,” you swallow thickly, the blonde’s tip bumping your clit as blood starts to rush to it and your pussy blossoms for him like a flower. “wanted you to make me one…”
“fuck,” he rasps, gaze dropping to watch the show beneath your shaking bodies, hardening cock pushing through your puffy folds and milky cockhead rutting against your fluttering hole. katsuki’s finger’s reach between the sweltering heat between you both, using two of his digits to keep his dick in line with honey glazed folds, shining with the reminisce of your last orgasm. using your wetness, bakugou is able to slide through your sex easily, shaking moans tumbling from between his bitten lips every time he hits your clit, desperately gripping his cock every time he shoots up too far and his tip nudges your soft tummy, smearing it with opaque white. “we should wait...we... we should talk ‘bout this,”
you grind back down on him, keeping the blonde nestled between swollen and pink folds, a pout forming on your lips. “don’t wanna,”
“neither do fuckin’ i,” comes bakugou’s gruff response, it’s whispered against your blemished shoulder, tainted with light scars from your childhood days and beauty marks alike as his buff arms wrap around your middle to keep you pinned down to him. both of you are seconds away from the tipping point, well past the boundary of what separates best friends from lovers— either of your minds growing murky and foggy, while your breathing tingles at each other’s lips while you sloppily grind against each other. you can feel his hips jumping beneath yours, dying to push his cock past your soaking entrance in one swift movement, but katsuki attempts to slow his roll, wanting your first time to be special. ochako is no longer a thought in his mind, replacing all visions of her with thoughts of you— wanting to fuck you, to be tucked away into your tight heat. “god, angel, wanna fuck you so bad,”
your eyes sparkle with a certain sense of triumph at bakugou’s words…you’ve won him over, got him bending over backwards from the slightest bump of his tip against your resisting entrance— barely prepared to take him and the thickness of his shaft. “please ‘suki, need you...want you,” you murmur against the blonde’s hairline, relishing in the way he pulls back ever so slightly to tap his weighty girth against your awaiting and fluttering slit.
slowly but surely, bakugou starts to push his cock into you, gritting his teeth as he huffs into the junction between your shoulder and neck— holding back his whimpers and urge to thrust as he slides into your warmth, not wanting to cause you anymore pain. “‘m sorry baby, ‘m sorry, you know don’t like hurtin’ya,” he mumbles apologies into your skin, hating the way you his at his intrusion, quickly filling you up like you’ve never been before. it’s like his own personal hell, being stuffed inside your cute virgin cunt, walls pulsing around him rhythmically and slowly sucking down every inch of katsuki’s swollen and aching cock— you take him so well despite the pain, making it harder to resist the urge to pound into you.
you’re so pretty on top of him, so cute with your pouty lips and teary eyes and bakugou suddenly finds himself wondering why he didn’t do this sooner, why he settled for anything less than you.
“move, please move,” you pull katsuki back by the air, cupping his face soon after to pull his bottom lip down with your thumb— the hot air between your bodies is teaming with lust and years worth of desire finally being unleashed, your cunt readily accepting your best friend’s dick as it oozes against your insides and spreads the flame of desire through your sweet cunt. “you feel so much better t-than all my toys ka’suki, always thought of you when i used them on myself,” you confess dreamily, tight hole growing slippery with your heightening arousal, letting bakugou press on until he’s reached the hilt inside of you. “you can fuck me, i want you.. l-love you—!”
the tail end of your words because hushed and breathless when katsuki jolts up and deeper into your cunt at your words— scratching the itch in your gummy walls that only he can reach. you love him and he loves the way your squishy, precious pussy wraps around him so perfectly, barely letting bakugou pull out enough to start a proper pacing to his hips. “love you baby, y’my best friend...fuckin’ love you angel,” he babbles to you, looking up at you with hormone raging red eyes as you toy with his lips, pulling it back again as you lean close making you chest to chest. “fuck, y’so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin tight…” forehead’s pressed, bakugou’s eyes flutter shut expecting you to kiss him but instead is met with the gift of saliva to let drip onto his tongue from your own mouth. his entire body shudders violently, swallowing your glob of spit quickly before he leans up to slot your lips together— using this moment of distraction to pull back his hips and sharply thrust into you. “‘m gonna fuck you baby, make this pussy my own. carve my name into it, gonna fuckin’ claim you,”
your best friend barely knows what he’s saying, barely knows the person your pussy’s turned him into— any traces of his girlfriend ochako flushed out of his system by hormones like dopamine as his large hands roam your skin and map out your stretch marks and dips and scars, committing them to memory before sinking into the fat of your hips to keep you steady in his lap. “i-i’m yours, you have me just— move!” if only he knew how much ownership he had of your mind and body already, how much he’d staked his claim over you throughout the years— tonight he would see that, and hopefully realise how much of him you owned as well.
tongues twirling against one another, bakugou pulls away, licking up the string of drool that connected you. he grips your ass next, smacking a rough palm over the peachy flesh to make you squeal and take away some of the pain as he sets a tune to his hips while they begin to plough into you. “‘m gonna make you feel so good, make a woman outta you just like you and this sweet lil virgin thing wanted, yeah?” katsuki’s gaze drops to the mess between your thighs as if he’s gesturing to your cunt, pumping his cock into your creamy, puffy mound nice and deep— making you cry out for him and clamp down hard. “promised to wreck this sweet hole, make my angel forget all the mean things ‘chako said about you… have i ever— fuck, have ii ever broken a promise?”
bakugou struggles to leave the warmth of your pussy, not caring whether that's down to how addicting your tightness is or you keeping him selfishly locked against your soaked and ribbed walls. however, you manage to shake your head no, despite the way you writhe in his lap as he rocks his hips into yours, bulbous cock head battering up your squishy insides. “n-never, my ka’suki’s so good t’me!” you moan possessively, selfishly but it sounds like nothing but angel’s calls to your best friend, only driving him to rut into you harder, deeper.
“that’s fuckin’ right angel, never gonna let’cha down,” he growls, shoving his face into your neck yet again as if he doesn’t trust himself not to cum if he looks at your awe striken face any longer— large and gritty palms pulling you by your ass back and forth on his throbbing, leaky and fat dick to match the pace of him pounding your pathetically juicy slit, writing his name in milky white precum against every ridge inside of you. no matter how far katsuki’s cock pulls out of you, your hips always chase him, forcing them down with your body weight to keep him tucked inside of you— following your pleasure until your cunt is pushing against him, dripping down his balls that spurt equally as much precum inside of you. “don’cha cry angel, thought this was what’cha wanted, what was gonna make you feel better?” he coos, licking a stripe along your collarbones to taste you and to keep himself grounded.
you wrap your arms around bakugou’s neck, hugging him to your chest while he grunts against it needily and it’s not long before your bodies are bodies become coated coated in a sheen of sweat, drops of it pearling against his hairline and extenuating the sticky clap of you skin against each other— creating a harmonious tone that lingers in the air along with your moans and the scent of sex. “it is what i want, you’re what i want!” you squeal as your best friend bares down on pleasure spots your toys could only dream of reaching, only serving to add squelching sounds to the lewd soundtrack you both have going. “but i wanna be your favourite, wanna be yours,” you beg him wetly, delirious and dumb on his cock, filled with devoir and a sense of need for him and only him.
“‘course yer my fuckin’ favourite, look at how much y’love me, how much this pussy loves me— shit angel,” bakugou curses, his tone deep and rumbling throughout his chest. his words make you dizzy, the sight of him makes you dizzy. as he looks up at you, dazed and with rose tinted cheeks you take your view of him— the shine sweat adds to him, highlighting the sharpness to bakugpu’s jaw and the new maturity of his face, the flex of his arms as he lifts you up and down in his lap along with the way his washboard and honey glazed abs contract with exertion every time he thrusts into you. katsuki is like a taste of heaven and it almost makes you mad to know that before you, ochako was the only person who got to see him like this— but your burning rage and murderous impulse is quickly replaced by the ecstasy bakugou makes you feel by bruising up your insides, balls heavily slapping against your ass.
you grin to yourself inwardly, knowing that after tonight ochako will never get to see the beauty of katsuki bakugou like this, ever again.
bakugou may be the one fucking you, but you’re the one who’s in control of his heart tonight— you’ve sunk your claws into him, captured him as your prey and held him hostage. not that he minds, not that he cares, his only wish being that you’d done it sooner...fucking you like this, balls deep in your virgin pussy withh you tight and snug around him drives bakugou insane and makes him realise that you’re the only one he wants. not her, not his own fucking girlfriend.
it’s always been you.
no other girl could get him drunk on cunt like this, vermillion eyes honing in on the way you gently start to lift your hips up and down, following the current of his thrusts as he pounds away at that tight little hole you’ve saved all for fucking him. no other girl could get katsuki to whimper and whine so loud before, you’re special, you’re something else. you’re his best friend. “god, this is the kinda pussy you only get to fuck in dreams, baby,” bakugou slurs with a perverted grin, changing the stroke of his hips to follow the pattern of circles instead of just driving his hips upward. “you my dream girl, angel? y’got the cute lil pussy i’ve only ever dreamed of pourin’ my cum into, yeah? always wanted t’fuck you, thought about it forever, now here i fuckin’ am…”
“did you think of me more than her?”
yes. katsuki would have been a fool not to notice the way you’d grown up s prettily over the years, body filling out into beautiful curves carved with dips and moles and freckles and scars all created by athena herself, the swell of your chest, fruit stained shade of your lips were things that didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend either. so yes, of course he’d thought about you in the depths of the night—his dirty hollywood dreams starring only the girl of his dreams, only its you instead of his girlfriend ochako, you and your name that tumbles from his lips only to be swallowed by the fabric of his sheets. its you who bakugou pictures beneath him when he folds his pillow into the shape of pussy, fucking it like he means it...like his life depends on it.
really, it’s always been you.
the blonde nuzzles at your shoulder with his sweaty forehead, shaking it against your equally sweaty skin. “mnhh, baby...yn,”
“answer me katsuki...a-answer me, please…” lazily, you run a hand through his mussed locks, making it worse
katsuki gasps softly, binding his lowly lip and screwing his eyes shut as he immerses himself in the passionate dance of your bodies; the slow and alluring bump and grind of his dick and your sweet pussy, tip jamming repeatedly and atrociously into your cervix— bullying your insides until you animalistically howl his name like a wolf calling to the moon. “more than her,” bakugou keens into your hands that claw down his bare back, scratching red tracks in the shape of your nails against his scarred skin and he lets his head drop to your neck, sinking the sharp edge of his canine teeth into your flesh and rolling his saliva soaked strawberry tongue over the assaulted area. “fuck— you feel like heaven, angel, c’mon, ride me...just like that, just like that…”
one hand braced on his shoulder, the other pats along the cushioned couch in search of katsuki’s phone. your birthday is his password—skillfully unlocked by you even while you clench down on the man in reward and he doesn’t hesitate to buck his hips back into you with the same level of feverishness, sloppily sliding your bodies against one another as you breathe, temperate and heavy and shakily into one another’s bruised lips. you tingle with joy, knowing yet another thing as simple as unlocking his phone boils down to just you—he’s obsessed with you, he loves you just as much as you love him. fumbling with katsuki’s phone and aim for the camera, a fresh wave of tears brew in your eyes and tangle with your lower lash line because he makes you see stars, gives you what you’ve been chasing after blindly for your whole life—the thickness of his shaft inside you as it stretches your virgin hole, the wet and impassioned snap of his hips into you, the sticky slap of his balls against your bare ass.
you’ve been dreaming of this for years and now you finally have him, all of katsuki bakugou to yourself. a selfish feeling wraps around your heart as you ride him, slow rolls of your hips taking is cock deeper into your squishy cunt, prrecum bleeding along your sensitive walls, and suddenly you feel the impulse to hit record— needing evidence of your night, something to show ochako that you’ve finally won.
the footage is blurry, the flash almost blinding you both as you turn on the camera and flip it to katsuki’s face, capturing every detail of his open mouth, tongue connected to the roof of his mouth by thick strings of spit—best visible when his head is thrown back in pure ecstasy. “the fuck are ya’doin’?” bakugou slurs, struggling to manage his words with the amount of saliva in his mouth. “you recordin’ me dirty girl? fuck, you wanna show the camera what a mess y’are f’me?” your tummy twists in delightful knots as katsuki plays himself up for the camera as soon as it turns on, giving it a toothy grin. essence pools between your raw folds, slicking up his cock as it dives into your plush folds, sliding perfectly against the soft velvet and you find yourself growing hornier from bakugou’s waves of intensity as they crash over you.
“uhuh, wan’...want keep a memo of how good you make me feel,” you tell him earnestly, almost losing your grip on the silver device you hold between your fingers— practically losing your mind when your best friend leans forward, letting all his excess spit drip down onto your joined sexes, lubing you up and making everything even more dissolute, nastier and creamier. it’s so obscene, the way his bubbles of white spit add a soft gleam to your tummy and pelvis as you both smash your sexes together—peeling back your hips from one anothers, the action only accompanied by a sticky sound. “‘hmygod, ka’suki!” the video picks up everything, especially the lewd and covetous cry you let out when bakugou grips your hips to grind you down against the wet mix he’s created, spit, his cum, your cum all coming together against your pussy.
the clip ends there and somehow you manage to spitefully forward it onto your best friend’s girlfriend. you can’t help the greedy clench of your cunt around katsuki’s pretty dick, feeling his veins sear their marks into your walls— the blonde doesn’t miss it either. it drives you wild, a frenzied blur of sex and hormones as you think of poor innocent ochako out at the party having the time of her life—it makes fat drops of your saccharine nectar to ooze from your ravaged hole just to imagine her face as the video of you fucking her boyfriend finally lights up her phone.
oh how turned on her ruined night makes you.
“you liked that, huh?” bakugou coos to you, capturing your raptured woozy stare with his ruby framed eyes that dance with lust as he pierces you on his cock over and over again. “‘course y’fuckin did, can feel it with how hard yer clampin’ dwon on me, angel,” he’s getting cocky— doped up on the way you suck him in and bounce away on him as if you’d done this before, his sweet virgin girl claiming what's rightfully hers. you need to put him back in his place, fuck your best friend hard enough to remind him who’s the rightful owner of the dick thats making you feel good for the very first time, you do everything your power to make the night last longer so you can torture the brunette bitch he’s dating even more—pushing back down on katsuki every time he thrusts up so that he can never leave the warmth of your soaked mound. the blonde leans back, watching you work yourself above him, dangerous and fiery eyes taking in the view, “so fuckin’ beauttiful when yer on’toppa me, takin’ this cock so good on your firsty try. s-shit, why didn’t i fuck you sooner, hah? got this perfect little pussy ‘n everythin’, the best i’ve ever had,”
katsuki’s praise shoots straight to your throbbing mound and has you jumping even as he slaps a rough palm over your puffy clit. “didn’t fuck me sooner , ‘cause you were to busy with her,” you snarl hotly, circling your hips over the blondes, driving his bright red tip into your g-spot, chasing your own pleasure as it bubbles in your lower tummy. “balls deep in her instead of me. shoulda been fuckin’ your favourite girl but instead...you were with ochako. why not me, suki? ‘m i not your favourite anymore?”
you reach for the phone again, pulling up the camera ready to record bakugou’s hazy response as you move to grip him by the roots of his hair, forcing him back against the couch while you bounce away in a frenzy on top of him— your unified groans slipping through the night air. “you’ve always been my favourite, she couldn’t even fuckin’ compare,” he mumbles to you, eyes glinting with mischief as you hit the record button once again. taking control, you lean forward again, spitting onto katsuki’s chest, pinching and teasing his nipples until they’re sore and he’s practically screaming your name, watching as the viscous glob rolls down between his fat pecs, “you sendin’ that shit to her, yeah? what a naughty fuckin’ girl, angel. tell ‘er whatcha gonna do to this cock, tell her whatcha gonna fuckin’ do to this cock. show her,” he sneers into the camera, dragging it down to show where your bodies join and cream froths at his base, dripping in white down his balls. “claim me for the fuckin’ camera, yeah, that’s right. fuckin’ claim me.”
hearing him breaking beneath you, desperate to keep your pussy locked onto his cock and you think; she must not be fucking him enough, not giving him enough juicy cunt to keep poor katsuki satisfied. she deserves to see what a mess your body’s made him, deserves to have her night destroyed and shattered to a million pieces by the sight of your swollen, tight, perfect pussy taking him in so nicely, and so you send off a second video to her, “you’re mine katsuki, mine forever. never hers, k-kay?” your voice is hushed as you take his lower lip between your teeth, making the pair of you an even greater mess while you guide bakugou into yet another raunchy kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth before twirling the two pink muscles together. you claim every inch of him, with hands and tongue and your puckered hole alike—writing your name sinfully across his body so that katsuki really knows that he’s yours.
“‘m fuckin yours baby, belong to you,” the blonde says to you, his words woven with the sweetness of candy, shaky from feeling you pulse around him—heartbeat in your pussy. “don’ want anyone else to have me, show that camera how good you take me...how you make me yours,” hot on his tongue, katsuki speaks in heated phrases before he spits onto his fingers, shoving the soiled digits against your swollen clit, blooming from the blood rush as he rubs it in tight circles, coating your sex in a crude mix of your juices and saliva—pushing it into you. the camera on the back of his phone catches it all, feeding it straight into ochako’s phone.
you pull your hips up, caught mid thrust by one of katsuki’s large hands holding your waist. you whimper at the feeling of being empty, no longer having the pressure of your best friend’s dick deep in your tummy, constantly bearing down on your g-spot hard. his cock is all the way out of you and only his tip is brushing against your clit, sticky and smeared with opaque white when bakugou makes you rut against it, stimulating yourself to your heart’s content—his bright red cockhead gliding easily between your creamy folds. he feels so good against you that you drop your grip on the phone that you miss the banging on the door outside, ignoring the sound and choosing instead to wrap your arms around bakugou’s muscled neck...stabilizing yourself while he takes ahold of the fleshy ass, kneading the flesh between calloused fingers and watching you get yourself off on him. “mmgod, fuck katsuki! lemme back on your cock, please...give it t’me, give it. please.” you squeal breathlessly, tongue rolling out of your mouth while you impatiently thrust your hips down, trying to coax the blonde back into your cute little cunt. you spit into your own hand, lubing it up before you grip his throbbing and achy shaft, jerking bakugou off until streams of foul language coat his lips and tattoo themselves against your skin. you even thumb the rim of his tip a little, knowing that he likes that.
“fuck! bakugou, i know you’re in there with that whore!” the banging on the door resumes, and you moan bakugou’s name louder, just to spitethe bitch who you know is just outside.
“angel, fuck...love you, love you like this, love you on top of me, takin’ this cock as your own,” bakugou curses, flopping back against he couch and smoothing his rough hands over your body. he eventually settles them where your breasts ( as they bounce ) meet your ribcage, rubbing the area and sending goosebumps rising across your sweaty, honeyed skin. “this dick is yours, this dick s’the only one that can fuck you, this dick only goes inside this fuckin’ pussy.”
‘katsuki! open up! katsuki!’
the words are muffled by the wooden door between the outside world and the bubble you’ve made with bakugou—blood rushing through your ears, carrying lust amongst many other things. “k-katsuki, please...feels so fuckin’ good, d-don’t stop, don’t stop! you’re so good, s-so good!” you babble, losing your mind and your focus, letting everything that is katsuki bakugou overwhelm you. “i-i’m your girl, your favourite, no one else c-can have you!”
ochako’s piercing voice yells again from outside, fighting the locked door while bakugou manhandles you into a position he likes to chase the ebb of your highs as they begin to set fire to your insides. with every sharp pounding of his cock into your cunt, you both take feverish steps towards your orgasms, the blistering heat of them sneaking up on you. “‘m never gonna stop baby, not for anyone...gonna fuck you as long as you want me to, yeah? promise you. ‘m yours,” your best friend whispers, turning you around in his lap until your back is to his sticky chest. he pushes you forward by the curve of your spine, almost bending you in half as your face reaches the floor. “t-thats fuckin’ it angel, turn around around ‘n lemme see your ass bounce on me, just like that,”
“keep fuckin’ me just like that, fuckin’ ochako wishes she could be you, my favourite fuckin’ girl—ah shit!” he adds, sending a tremor of pleasure down your spine as dopamine sizzles at your nerve endings.
so you do as bakugou says, even though your thighs burn with how much you bounce up and down on him, throwing your ass back onto him to pull more of his dirty moans from his filthy mouth. your name is the only thing bakugou can say— chanting it like a prayer, as if his brain has been wiped of all other thoughts accept for you and the way you sink down on him, right to the creamy base of his dick as if it wasn’t even a problem eyes rolling, your toes curl, clamping down greedily on bakugou until his breath stutters and his dick, swollen with the load he’s holding back, has no room to breathe.
you don’t even stop fucking like animals when the door bursts open, a teary eyed ochako throwing herself into the room to the sight of her boyfriend fucking the girl she’d always been so worried about. to see him fucking you. “o-oh my god! katsuki bakugou wh-what the fuck are you doing? with her?” his girlfriend screams, but he can’t even look at her, obsessed with the way your body feels moving along with his. “you’re both fucking sick!”
“‘m gonna cum, katsuki,” you say airly, a smirk tugging at your lips as your eyes lock with shaky brown orbs—you can’t hold back at this point, your body craving to touch the white light of your release, the knots twisted in your stomach beginning to come undone as the pace of bakugou’s hips start to falter and grow impatient, churning up your insides as his sensitive tip drags along your spongy walls and pushes up against your squishy g-spot. it hurts so good to hold back, but it feels even better to watch ochako cry and scream and beg for her boyfriend to stop fucking you.
but bakugou isn’t doing any better than you are, beneath you, his muscled thighs tremble and his the stroke of his hips become sloppy and languid. “c’mon angel, cum f’me, paint this cock...let it all out f’me,” he mumbles strainedly into your shoulder, tweaking your nipples and barely acknowledging the presence of his girlfriend ( or ex, at this point ) while his calloused fingers dance down the softness of your tummy to toy with your clit once again, dragging you by the ankle towards both of your highs. “c-can’t hold it anymore baby, gonna...gonna—! fuck!”
“stop it, kastuki!”
the lewd cross of your eyes as you finally cum with katsuki is what drives uraraka off of the edge, breaking into full on sobs when your dam bursts—colours in brand new shades flashing behind your eyes, bakugou’s hips fail to slow as he guides you through your orgasm, sending you into a series of shivers and your mouth hangs open in a silent scream that makes your throat hoarse. you cum so hard that the world around you seems to fall away, throwing an arm behind you to grip the blonde locks of your best friend’s hair to ground yourself. your release splashes out against the floor, cunt fluttering rhythmically as it paints both yours and katsuki’s thighs before triggering his own high.
“f-fuck, fuck! ‘m cummin’, ‘m cummin. gonna fill you up baby...can ya take it? take my cum?” he gripes needily into the shell of your ear, high pitched and whiney. the blonde’s voice fades to static, hips bucking up into your soiled pussy with one last surge of power before he’ss spilling white hot seed into your spasming hole. there’s so much of it, bakugou’s cum bleeding out of you slipping down between your ass cheeks— your tummy practically swells form how much of his own release he’s given you and eventually, katsuki’s cantering hips slow down until they reach a grind, cock slipping out of you and spewing the last of his cum against your inner thighs and soft tummy. “holy fuckin’ shit baby, fuck.”
bakugou collapses into the couch as he comes down from the high heavens, near passing out and leaving you to deal with his gobsmacked girlfriend. “take a picture ochako, it’ll last longer!” you coo, sickly sweet, making the brunette stomp her foot like a petulant child and flee the scene.
after she’s gone, katsuki seems to stir awake with an amused laugh, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder. “y’fuckin’ crazy angel, i love you.”
“d’ya mean that, suki?” you ask him with amused eyes as you turn around in his lap—drawing shapes over his heartbeat as you revel in the victory of your plan. “do you really love me?”
bakugou nods, rubbing his hand over the curve of your spine, kissing your nose as he slips in and out of consciousness. “always fuckin’ have, it’ll always be you, kay angel?” he tells you softly.
you barely have a chance to respond to bakugou, for he’s already passed out from how much you’d worn him out. you’d have a lot to talk about when the party was over and he'd woken up again, but for now you curl up against him contentedly— smiling at the knowledge that you’d always be his favourite girl.
networks: @planetonet, @treehouse-network.
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RANDOMLY CRAWLING INTO BNHA CHARACTERS LAPS
featuring. bakugou katsuki, dabi, aizawa shota, todoroki shoto + keigo takami.
warnings: none except maybe a little suggestiveness and teasing in hawks + dabi’s.
note: pretty much that old tiktok trend and i just cant stop thinking about how warm and comfy dabi’s lap would be :/
✞ BAKUGOU was sat on the couch, scribbling down some random new costume ideas and signing some papers before bed. but you felt a little touch starved, missing the natural warmth that came with being wrapped in your boyfriend. “’suki?” you drawl, the soft tone of your voice catching his attention immediately as he raises a curious brow, grunting in response. but you dont say anything else, instead you just slide yourself onto his lap, tracing your fingers up his biceps in the process, grinning when you watch him immediately freeze up- cheeks tinting pink. “what are you doing, dumbass?” bakugou groans, shuffling under you slightly with a sigh but he still doesn't tell you to get off, allowing you to get comfortable before you feel the natural heat of his palm rest against your lower back- his chin resting on your shoulder with a tsk and a few grumbles, hoping you dont notice the way his blush has now spread to the tips of his ears as he pouts down at the papers infront of him. “fine, ju-just sit still would ya?” bakugou huffs, holding you close while he traces his fingers soothingly along your back.
✞ DABI you’d decided to do it during one of the league meetings, hoping you'd be able to get some sort of reaction out of your boyfriend. dabi’s eyes are on you immediately when you enter the room, re-adjusting himself on the old couch to make room for you beside him. you try to suppress the grin on your lips when you approach him instead, sliding your way between his legs before climbing onto his lap- his face remains unphased apart from the slight raise of his brow but you’re surprised when his arms reach for you anyway, hands resting on your hips as if this had been planned all along, almost making you pout at the smug expression on his face while he leans in closer. “yeah? infront of the league, doll?” dabi almost groans, words a drawl while his gaze locks on yours, pulling your hips flush against his own “aren’t you bold.” you’re only jolted from the haze of your mind when you hear shigaraki bark at you both to “get a room” with a disgusted scowl on his face, causing dabi to flick him off with a cocky grin before his hand returns to playfully smack at your ass, shooting you a smirk and a wink after “oh, we will.”
✞ AIZAWA he was grading papers while he sat at the desk in the spare bedroom of your home, hair tied back out of his face as he ran an exhausted hand over his face - head slowly turning to face you while you approached him in the doorway, watching his features soften immediately. “you okay?” shota hums, sleep evident in his tone. you only offer him a nod in reply before nudging at his arm slightly, and you're surprised when he raises it, pushing his chair out from under the desk to allow you to crawl into his lap smoothly. “almost done.” he sighs while you allow yourself to get comfortable, feeling him pull himself closer to the desk again before one of his hands rest on the back of your head, guiding you to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. suddenly finding yourself feeling tired yourself while surrounded by his warmth, the scribbling of his pen and your soft breathing filling the room- feeling him place a gentle kiss against your shoulder before you drift off in his hold.
✞ TODOROKI you were a little nervous to try it with him honestly, not being too sure how he would react or if he even would. so you had waited until he was sitting on his bed, smiling softly at you before gently patting the space next to him. so you approach, a little hesitantly at first but eventually you decide to just do it - smoothly sliding into his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. shoto freezes, momentarily- arms still by his side as he looks at you with wide eyes and parted lips, a little confused. “are you cold or something?” it makes your heart bloom at the innocence of the question, deciding to just nod and try to play it off as just that. but you dont expect to feel his arms lightly wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him while he rests his face in the crook of your neck- breathing softly before he eventually speaks “is this better?” he breathes and you hold him a little tighter when you notice the faint tint of red on the tips of his ears, “its perfect.”
✞ HAWKS was always looking for ways to fluster you, so you thought you’d try take this as an opportunity to do the same to him. waiting until he was lying in bed after a long day of patrols, amber eyes heavy with sleep but still focused on you when the bed dips under your weight. “oho~ what’s this? how can i help you, angel?” his words are laced in a teasing tone, his lips stretching into a handsome smirk as his hands immediately reach for your figure- pulling you even closer against him until you're almost lying completely on top of him. his fingers tilting your chin up in favour of his lips ghosting your own. “come on, baby. what now?” you want to roll your eyes at the sickly sweet tone and the playful glint in his eyes, realising that he probably figured you out before you even started- but when you feel his palm smooth along your hips and pull you closer, raising a brow at you before his lips finally press against your own- you realise you dont really care anyway.
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𝖘’𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 | day eight.
𝖋𝖙. dilf tamaki amajiki — size kink.
𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. fingering, teasing, afab reader, daddy kink, fem reader, tummy bulge, dirty talk, size kink, dacryphilia, pet names, degradation, praise.
𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊. 673 words.
𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. sorry for being a little mia, uni is just killing me right now. will try to be more active when i can!
𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖗.. @nkogneatho’s dilftober event.
Tamaki was no longer the shy and quiet hero that people once knew of—he had grown stronger, braver and had gained a lot of confidence over the years of training and hero work he’s done. He stood tall and proud, his huge form intimidating to others but not to you. He’d always had a bit of a sweet spot for his little bunny after all.
He was huge, painfully so—he wished that he could deny the satisfaction it gave him as he stared down at you but he couldn’t. He loved the way your eyes seemed to fill with lust from just his lean muscles to the way he practically towered over you. The feeling of you being so small and vulnerable underneath him making his cock grow painfully hard.
Your wide, teary eyes glance up to meet his dark ones as he pumps you full of his fingers. The feeling was almost overwhelming and you couldn’t help but think to yourself that there was no way for you to take his cock, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his smooth voice filling the quiet room.
“You still with me, bunny? You’re doing so good, pretty girl. So fucking wet for daddy, aren’t you?” You nodded, whining as his fingers prod against your sensitive spots. Hating and loving the way he seemed to know your body better than you did. Your warm walls clamped down perfectly on his fingers like a vice, forcing an animalistic groan out of his throat as he finally pulls you into his lap.
Your entrance hovering right above his pulsating cock, the angry red tip dripping pre-cum from how much he’s been holding back. His grip on your hips are tight as he pulls you down onto him even just the burn of the tip of his cock was already painful, making you hiss out as he tries his best to not shove you down onto his cock and pound into you like his instincts were telling him to.
He lowly ushers you, kissing away the stray tears that stream down your cheeks as your hands dig crescent shaped indents into his shoulder. “Daddy—s’too much! I- I can’t!”
His hand moves to press against the spot just below your navel, the feeling of a slight bulge from his cock making him lose the last bit of his control as he growls out, “Too much, bunny? Your pathetic little cunt can’t take daddy’s cock. That’s too fuckin’ bad because you’re not the one in charge here, slut.”
And with that he forces you all the way down, the tip of his cock fucking into your cervix as a sadistic smile makes it’s way onto his face at the feeling of your juices dripping down his balls and your pussy squeezing down on his cock so much it’s like you’re trying to milk him.
“Tch, who said you could cum, bunny slut? I didn’t give you permission to, did I?”
“Such a disobedient brat.” He doesn’t give you the time to explain as he suddenly shoves his fingers into your mouth, forcing them down your throat as he watches you struggle to take them.
“I want you to cum on my cock again and again, until all you can think about is taking my cum and being my little breeding bitch, you fucking understand me slut? This is your punishment, bunny, and you better take it like a good girl.”
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Summary: Swimming in the water you grew up maybe wasn't the smartest idea while a certain desperate creature in need of a mate lurks beneath the waves.
TW: Mermaid, yandere ideas, water, kidnapping, noncon, breeding, sex.
It was a calm day in terms of weather. Nice and sunny, the water was calm. Everything had pointed to a nice relaxing day at the beach. And everything had been great until you decided to take a swim. It wasn’t far out, you knew that it was best to stay by the dock or the shore. However, the water was too nice and you kept spotting more shells further and further. It should have been obvious that admiring the water could become dangerous. The rules from when you were young of having grown up near the sea didn’t seem to apply to you today. It was foolish, but it was the truth.
Your admiration of the water and the things it was what almost caused your death. It was supposed to be safe at least a kilometre offshore, predators just never seemed to come any closer for some reason. Maybe that explained your obliviousness, your carelessness of your surroundings and of your survival. The shark nearing your whereabouts was proof of how little attention was given to the water. You were too occupied admiring the small fish and the shells that littered the seabed to see the danger. Though you had missed it, another predator hadn’t. Tamaki was there to help you.
Humans weren’t rare around the shore, no they were common. Whether in boats, swimming or standing on the shore close to the water. He used to them, despised them, but nonetheless use to them. His hatred of them was what surprised him the most when he got the shark to head away from you. Knowing the shark wouldn’t have seriously harmed you, probably only given you a bite and then swam off. But then there was the blood and panic that would have destroyed his peaceful day.
Normally he would have swum because away from humans, ignored their presence as much as possible. But here he was, watching you swim around, admiring his world. You were something else, something inhuman. Different than the rest. How you swam as if you were made for the water. You were not like him, you didn’t have a tail with fins, you didn’t have gills yet here you were, Adapting in the water.
He wasn’t sure what sparked in him, what set of such a need for you. Could it be because Tamaki had been alone for all these years. Or was it cause he had reached the age of maturity a while ago and still hadn’t found a mate. But here you were, practically begging for him to take you. Take you far away from here and keep you safe. After what he just saw, safety was what you needed from him.
Swimming was so relaxing. The water against your skin, the fish that swam by. It was all so nice. Thank goodness you hadn’t thrown away those goggles from all those years ago. It made it easier to see the beauty the way around. Unfortunately, they were no help in aiding you to see the creature swimming towards you.
Arms were wrapped around your waist. Fear was beginning to set in. It was too fast to react, everything happened too fast for human reaction. Not long after arms were wrapped around your body, you were dragged through the water by something you weren’t able to fully see. Only feeling a human chest pressed against your back. Along with the arms that looked semi-human, with scales, securing your body against its.
The question of where you were headed had quickly been replaced with how you will breathe. The air was slowly running out. Instead of air, the pain was residing in your chest instead. This was how you died. Drowning. Not swallowing water was becoming harder and harder. The pain of being dragged and the lack of air was becoming painful. Becoming worse by the second. Why was this happening? Or better yet what was happening?
It was long until you passed out. Swallowing water along with passing out. Tamaki felt bad, but this needed to be done. Only he could provide you safety and soon you’d see this was all for the better.
The feeling was terrible, waking up and coughing what you felt like was a whole sea worth of water. As if it would never end. Realizing just how dark it was where here was. Feeling around to help you assess where this was. Rock, sand, water. Crawling around, trying to gain an understanding of where you were. Unfortunately, it didn’t help. You were cold, sick, and tired. The worst part was the unfamiliar surrounding. Your coughing hadn’t seized either. You weren’t sure
if it was still the water or maybe your anxiety taking on a physical form.
Rustling was coming from behind you. Freezing in place, waiting for any more movement. It was quiet for a moment. then more noise came. It sounded like it was all around. Not staying in one place. Then your eyes were blinded. Abruptly light had appeared. Was, was this a cave? It looked like one.
Once the shock of the lights had worn off, that’s when he became visible. Tamaki was sitting across from you, hiding in the shadows, but you could see him. He looked like a man, at least from the waist up. Some odd scales covering parts of his arms. Scars adorned his body as well. Moving up his neck you noticed more of his features. Where are those gills on his neck? He wasn’t human, but yet his face looked like he was. Mostly. His eyes were terrifyingly piercing. As if they could stare into you. Then there were his teeth. They were extremely noticeable when he gave you a grin. Sharp.
“I-I, I am Tamaki.” His voice was strained. Speaking must not be something he’s too used to. Then he began to move. That’s when you fully noticed his tail. The memory of the swim over had suddenly come back. He was the thing that brought you here.
“Where am I? W-what happened?” You were terrified. What did this thing want? “P-please I just want to go home.” Tamaki frowned at your words, confused about why you wanted to leave. Instead of letting you go, he made his way to you. Dragging himself towards you. There was nowhere you could go once you hit the wall behind you, yet he kept coming. Moving across the cave floor towards you. Avoiding eye contact at all costs. You realized something. The light. The light from the cave roof. That meant that some part of this cave was above water. So either it was breaking one of the tiny holes open. No, looking closer the rock was too thick. There had to be some other way. Tamaki was almost right in front of you when you noticed the water. A little bay. That's how you guys came in, maybe that’s how you could leave. But he had you trapped now. One hand is placed on your waist while the other stroking your cheek. Tears had begun to stream down your face. “Please, just please don’t hurt me. I wanna go home.” He began to shush you as his hand stroked your cheek. Rubbing away at the tears. It would have been a sweet gesture if he hadn’t been some creature that had kidnapped you for who-knows-what.
All you could do was whimper and beg him to let you go, but either he didn’t understand or didn’t care. He continues to coo and hush you. Mumbling under his breath, some words sounding like English and others not.
“Your name?” Tamaki pointed his finger in the middle of your chest and asked. “Oh” Maybe he did understand you and was just ignoring you. Introducing himself, hoping that would make him more likely to show mercy to you. “Pretty” Tamaki practically purred in response.
Leaving was not possible, he had made that very clear. You were to stay here and be with him. Asking him why had gotten you nowhere. All he offered in response was a smile and a blush. Hours went by and nothing had gotten clearer. No, instead you were now still wet and cold.
Tamaki only noticed you were cold when he saw you shivering in the corner. His heart sank. You were cold, of course, humans were so easily affected by temperature. He was being selfish with keeping all his body heat to himself. Moving closer to you, feeling worse when he saw how you flinched at his movements. You were his poor little baby, something he needed to protect and take care of. He could prove it to you, prove how he will be so good for you.
Wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body down in a spooning position. So soft, that’s all he could think of, all he could think of until you moved your ass against him. You awoke something in him. Something primal. Something he was hoping he could have kept at bay for at least tonight. To let you ease in. But how could he when you were being so tempting? He knew another way to warm you up.
You were flipped over suddenly. Layed on your back by Tamaki. He stared into your eyes, the look was something you couldn’t recognize what it was. But it was something dark and primal. Crawling away from him was not possible, his arms had you cagged in. Not to mention he was your only source of warmth. You two simply stared at each other. His large eyes scanning your face. His had lust, while yours held fear. Swiftly his lips were crashed onto yours. It was messy and wet. Desperate. Like he was trying to get closer to you, pushing his body as close to yours as possible.
The bathing suit you were wearing was no longer on your body, they had been ripped off. That’s when you were aware of just how dangerous Tamaki was. He could end your life with those claws so easily. It would be better to just stay still and try no to anger him. Hopefully, this will be over soon, then you could be safe at home. A thought that you weren’t aware of was never going to happen.
The feeling of his hands roaming your bare body was hard to ignore. A reminder of how espoused you were to him, how helpless you were in a cave with no easy exit and with a creature you weren’t sure what it wanted. Those breathing techniques you learned to help stay calm were useless. Nothing could save you from him, it was a fact you hated to admit.
While you were shaking at his touch, Tamaki was exploring your body with his hands. Taking in how your skin felt against his. How different the textures were. Coos and moans escaped his lips and his hands trailed to your breast. He knew what these were, even his species had them. For feeding the young. Yes, that meant you could produce young as well and nurture them. Oh, Tamaki couldn’t hide his excitement at that prospect. You with his young, being a mother to his offspring. Watching you grow a life inside of you, a life he would put there. Yes, that meant he would have to put it inside of you. fill you will his seed so you could be fully his. Proving to others who you belong to with your womb swollen because of him.
The excitement had gotten to him, there was no holding back now. In Tamaki’s eyes you were already his, the moment he decided he had to have you. That was how his kind was, if they wanted something they got it. Proved to their potential mate they could care for them, protect them and fill them with young. His lips latched onto one of your nipples, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. Tamaki had a hard time understanding human reactions, so he mistook your back arching in surprise as it arching in pleasure. Urging him to continue his onslaught on your chest. Hands pushed against him did no good, he simply batted them away or ignored them. This is all he had wanted for so long and now he had you, he had his little mate.
It felt like hours that he was at your chest, sucking and playing with them. Switching between each breast. Moaning into your skin. Then you felt him grind against your leg. He was going to try to have sex with you. This creature was going to try to fuck you. You weren’t sure what you were more scared of, the fact he probably wanted more than just sucking at your chest. Or how he was going to do it. He has a fish-like tail, how on earth was he going to do it? That’s when he answered your question for you. Letting your chest free from his grip and mouth he sat up. “G-good girl.” An odd smile adorned his face. Tamaki’s hand dragged down his body to below his hips. He released his dick from its confinement. It was hidden behind a few scales but was now fully out. The blush that now adorned his face was extreme, red to his ears. You could swear he almost looked shy as he showed himself off to you. But what really caught your attention was what had just come into view. He was large, at least larger than any man you had seen before. Your fears were coming to reality. Scurrying back away from Tamaki, until his hand gripped your ankle tightly. Pulling you back towards him as he crawled on top of you. “No, please. Be good for me. Please y/n” he was going to enter you without any preparations. Sure his attack on your chest had gotten you a bit wet, you hate to admit. But that was nothing compared to what you needed for this. “No, please no. I-it’s too much. It’s going to hurt.” It was wishful to think your pleas would do anything to him when he was in such a state. Instead, Tamaki cocked his head to the side confused. It would seem his kind don’t need to prepare the other. “Too much? Hurt? Why?” He looked sad, like the idea of hurting you could end him. If he only knew just how to hurt you already were from everything he had already done.
“You can’t just, uh” The words were difficult to find. How could you explain to this creature who was laying on you and looking straight down at you? That he won’t be able to get in without either tearing you, or he needed to prepare you. The thought made you realize you had accepted your fate. He was going to have his way for you. Then maybe he’d let you go or leave so you could find your way out. “It’s just. I, humans, need to be prepared before. Before things go in…” Confusion was written across his face. “Prepare?” You were going to have to show him. Gently grabbing his hand you guided it down to your cunt. Trying to get him to move his fingers around your clit. Your back arched and a moan escaped your lips when his finger found it. Trying to help him move them was difficult. He was so still, when you looked up at him you noticed his features. The shock was on his face and he stared at where his fingers were. “I need you to do this.”
With those words, his fingers began to move on their own. Picking up speed. Your moans only aided him in his attempt. He needed to see this, see what he was doing to you. Lowering his head to meet your cunt. He watched as his fingers rubbed your clit, he could see it. Looking up he watched as your face scrunched and moans escaped his lips. Yes, this was it. This is what he so desperately craved. A mate, a mate who had obviously accepted him. Tamaki could learn how to please you, how to make you feel good and want him.
You couldn’t stop yourself, your hand found Tamaki’s hair. Grabbing at him to push his face fulling into. You wanted his tongue on your clit. “Please Tamaki, please u-use your tongue.” You wanted him to taste you, oh he would happily comply. It would be a lie if he said that he wasn’t thinking of it himself. His kind usually doesn’t use their mouths down there. But he knows a few of his old friends use to talk about how it felt better for yourself and your mate when you found some land and used your mouths on each other. Leaving marks on your mate's body was normal, but a bit hard to do underwater. So the land was typically found when two wanted to try things. His lips were attached to your clit in a second. Moans caused vibrations around your clit. He was lapping at your core, trying to taste every inch of you. It wasn’t long until his tongue began to roam around your entrance. Pushing past it to tongue fuck you. it felt like he was going deeper than was possible. Then again, he wasn’t human so who knows how long his tongue truly was. Shifting your focus on his unnatural aspect, you focused on the feeling. The pleasure he was giving you. It was amazing. You could feel the pressure building up in you. Squeezing your walls, causing Tamaki to moan. He was going to make you cum. It was close, so close. All it took was him adding his fingers to your clit. Your moans had turned to screams as you finished on his face.
While you were coming down from your high Tamaki was shocked, he was slowly cleaning you off with his tongue, but was confused about what just happened. You had tasted so good and he was just trying to get more of you when you screamed. Then suddenly he was tasting more. He liked this and it seemed to have made you feel good. Tamaki wasn’t sure what just happened, but he wanted to do it more. He needed to make you do that again, but this time not on his face. “Are you okay? Ready now?” You nodded in response. In a rush, he suddenly laid in the position he was in before, where his face was against yours. The notion that this was all to warm you up was gone from his mind. Now, now this was for him. To claim his mate and have you. As he lined his dick up with your entrance. Pushing in, he slowed his pace when he saw how you grabbed his arm and whimpered in pain. He didn’t want this to be painful for you, no, he wanted you to enjoy this like he was going to.
The pain was harsh, even after he had made you cum on his face. There was still a burn happening. The stretch he was causing was bad, but at least he slowed down. This could be more bearable. Finally, he was fully in. Scales pressed against your hips and he waited a moment. Moans and grunts were falling from Tamaki’s lips. Pushing his face into your neck. Muttering how good you felt and how you were such a good girl. Praising you for taking him so well. Then he began to move. First, it was slow, but something must have switched in him as his pace picked up. Hips snapping against yours at a harsh rate. It felt nice, but the pain was outlaying the pleasure. Your pleas of mercy fell on deaf ears as Tamaki was busy pleasuring himself and trying to get another orgasm out of you. He was in a state of bliss right now. If only you could see his face. He already looked like he was fucked out and drunk on your cunt. Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was enjoying it a bit too much. Feeling his drool makes its way onto your neck and shoulder.
The full pleasure eventually came, the pain had ceased. He was filling you up more than you had ever been. As if his dick was hitting all the right angles. Moans from both of you had filled the cave. The slap of skin and scales could be heard at a deafening volume. It all felt so wonderful that you almost didn’t want to believe this wasn’t against our will.
Things weren’t slowing down, Tamaki had his head still buried in your neck while violently hammering into you. His fingers suddenly moved down your body. Gliding across your skin until it reached its destination. Your slit. His fingers began to work at it again, trying to build you up once more. Your moans got louder. Swearing you could feel Tamaki smile against your skin. You arched into him, trying to get more. More of his fingers working on you. More of something to push you over the edge. And Tamaki was more than happy to comply. “Please. Please again. I want it again. I want more.”
His thrust got wild as he got close to finishing. He just wanted you to do what you did before. Make a mess on him and squeeze him again. Tamaki was desperate for you to cum on him now. As his fingers pushed you over the edge, he felt it. Your walls squeezing his dick, pulsing around it. This was bliss, the most bliss any creature could feel. To be fucking their mate and have them do this to them. Oh, it was perfect and he’d reward you. Pausing himself to catch his breath again. Then he continued his onslaught. His mouth got to work nibbling at your skin, sucking and biting. Leaving any kind of mark he could as he fucked into you as fast and hard as he could. He was going to fill you up. Fill you with his seed. You were his mate and he needed to breed you. Cries left his mouth and he desperately railed you. Trying to get deeper with every thrust. Tamaki ignored your whines of pains and pleas to stop. This was just too good for him. Little whimpers of “mine.mine.mine.” could be heard from him when he finally finished.
The feeling of him pumping you full was shattering to you. Feeling his cum coat your walls. It felt like forever that he laid on you pumping his seed into you. But in a way comforting. At least he was done. This was all done. You could leave now. Once you felt him stop you asked. “C-can I l-leave now?” Your voice was scratchy from all the moans and screams from earlier. Tamaki’s body suddenly moved, he was now facing you. Analyzing your face. He looked so confused and hurt. “No. You stay with me now. You’re mine.” His grip on you tightens as you tried to move away from him. “No. Stop. You’re mine. You’re my mate.” The word mate made you freeze. If he saw you as his “mate” that meant this wasn’t a one-time thing. He really was going to keep you here. “I’m not your mate.” You wanted to sound commanding, but instead, your voice sounded more like a plea. Tamaki’s hands began to hold you tighter. Anger was boiling in him. Anger and sadness. Thrown to the middle of the cave, he was back on you. Holding you down while yelling in your face. “No. You can’t. You can’t leave. No. Stay with me.” Yells of how you were his and his mate filled your ears. When tears escaped your eyes is when his voice softened. Kissing away the tears as his hands roamed your body. Stomping by your stomach. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s fine. You’re safe. You and our babies are safe.”
Tamaki’s words ringing in your ears, “You and our babies are safe.” He had just bred you. Even if you left this cave, you’d be leaving with a reminder of him. Escape only seemed further away from you now. He had laid his claim on you. You were his mate.
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Pairing: ProHero! Bakugo Katsuki x reader
Word Count: 340, just a drable!
A/N: This stemmed from me not having an ac and going though one of the hottest summers my area has seen in a while. You can’t blame a girl for wanting a pro hero to crawl into bed with her.
You sleep in Katsuki’s bed naked
Katsuki’s been working the night shift, moving agencies has been tough, the rookies always get the worst jobs… and he can’t decide if you make it better or worse. Changing jobs, getting comfortable in a relationship, none of it was easy, but sometimes the aches and pains in his shoulders and feet were relieved just by looking at you.
He’s not sure when you started to invite yourself over. With different schedules the only time you saw each other was when you were sharing his bed. Knowing you, you would probably say you slept better at this place. Of course you did, it was safer.
The image of you like that follows him; its made a home in his head, with a frame and a little glowing light. It washes over him, lapping at his thoughts, distracting him.
You're so vulnerable and subdued, waiting for him.
He’s also not sure what exactly your aversion to underwear is. Or maybe a sleep shirt? One of his? Yeah, it's hot, but there's only so much a man can take.
You're on his bed, blankets kicked to the foot, his pillow moved from its spot, now inches from your arms; you probably fell asleep holding it. When he finds you like this he's torn. The urge to scoop you up, cradle your soft body, to enjoy every pliant and giving curve. Bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. To relish in the feeling of never being close enough. It makes him ache.
Sometimes you make it hard for him to think, chest so tight he can’t get enough air. And sometimes you're an oasis in a desert, the only green thing growing in his burnt heart. It was fucking terrifying leting you be that close, in his bed, in his apartment, in his head. But it was also the most obvious thing, the most real and natural thing.
You sleep in Katsuki’s bed naked, and all he wants to do is crawl in, just as naked as you.
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Dabi x reader in squid game where Dabi is a masked guy and reader is a player 👀
Squid Game AU - Masked Guy!Dabi x Player!Reader
Squid Game AU Masterlist
TW: Slight spoilers for the nature of the 5th game, Mentions of Murder and Violence (in the context of the games), Smut.
If the masked guys are all the same, there's one you can't help but recognize, simply because he's always there, watching.
If the masked guys are all the same, there's one you always recognize.
He's one of the more powerful ones. You know that because it's not a circle or a triangle adorning his face, but a square, and you sometimes hear him barking orders to others, nameless workers wearing different shapes that put them below him by the rule of their weird hierarchy.
Circle, triangle, square.
There are not many occasions for staff and players to meet, and yet he seems to take every opportunity to do so, if only, maybe, to get close to you. When someone dies and he comes into the dorm to assess their passing, he makes sure to walk close enough to you that his gloved fingers brush against yours. Another time, his hand discreetly creeps higher until it rests on your ass and tears a quiet yelp from your lips while the players are given their dinner and you're waiting on the side. You can almost hear an amused scoff escape the confines of his mask then.
But he doesn't have a name, doesn't have a face.
Still, he's always watching, whenever he's around, and you start watching him, too. Wondering what kind of expression he's hiding under the black metal, thinking about the color of his eyes. Brown? Green? You have a feeling they might be blue, but you might be wrong. Who knows, after all?
He kills, and kills, and kills, and yet you simply watch.
You feel less like a nameless player, like a random number in a murder game when his gaze is focused on you. And it's nice, in a way, to know that there is still someone who might remember you even if you lose the game. You wonder if he'd be especially careful when wrapping up your corpse.
The very thought is disgusting, and it keeps you awake at night, horror pooling in your gut, fear coating your throat and making it hard to breathe.
"I need to go to the bathroom," you say one night when you can't bear it anymore, knocking on the tall door leading towards the hallway.
Others have struggled with such a demand before you; you've seen it happen a few times. That lady who had to shout and scream for someone to pay attention to her and allow her the permission to go relieve herself.
But not you.
The door opens less than a second later, and he's there.
He leads you towards the bathroom, a few corridors away. You expect him to wait for you outside, but instead, he enters right behind you, closing the door before leaning against it, arms crossed in front of his strong chest.
It's as if his demeanor changes then, and you know he's smirking behind his mask.
"There are no cameras here, angel," he tells you. You've heard his voice before, but this time it's lower, deeper. It brings shivers running down your spine. "I have to be here to make sure you don't try anything stupid."
He says it as if he wished you'd do exactly that. Something stupid.
And of course, that's what you do.
"Can I see your face?" you ask.
Silence fills the room, and you bite your lower lip.
"Since there are no cameras, I thought..."
He doesn't reply. Instead, his gloved hand rises to his face, taking a hold of his mask. Pulling it off, until it falls to the ground with a clang.
He has the prettiest eyes you've ever seen. And you were right, they're blue. The beautiful blue of the sky in summer, of those blueberry sorbets you like, of cold, merciless ice. Strands of black hair fall gracefully in front of his scarred face, and, as expected, a smirk pulls at his lips as he stares at you.
Eyes hungry, famished, devouring everything in their way.
"Like what you see?" he asks and he blinks, the slightest bit surprised, when you nod.
Silence hangs over the room once again, only troubled by the sound of water dripping in one of the stalls, somewhere further in the room. The nameless man watches you again, carefully, and it feels weird to be able to really, truly watch him back.
You can't say that you're not enjoying it.
"Come here," he says, in the same tone he uses in the games. Strict, cold, merciless.
But you're not scared when you walk up to him and he raises gloved palms to your cheeks, cradling your face in the same hands he used to kill, kill, and kill again, right before having his underlings wrap up the corpses in pretty present boxes.
You don't think about the dead when he leans towards you to pull you into a burning kiss.
And you don't think about the blood he spilled when his hand slips under your shirt and rises, brushing against your skin until he starts playing with your breasts through the thick fabric of his gloves.
The action tears a surprised moan from you, and he laughs against your lips, mean, cruel, monster of a man and yet so warm and gentle when his tongue slids inside your mouth to toy with yours. It isn't long before he pulls at the hem of your pants until they're lying on the dirty bathroom floor, and he uses both hands then when placing them under your thighs to carry you towards a sink so that he can play with you at will as you sit there, the perfect height for him to feast on your lips.
You don't even notice him stealing your panties, slipping them in the pocket of his uniform to use them later, when you're not around.
For now, you are around, though, and his takes off one of his gloves using his teeth, slowly, never breaking eye contact with you as he does so, delighting in your expression because you know what's coming next.
"You've been feeling lonely in these dorms, haven't you, baby?" he asks, ever so condescending. "Tell me what you need, and I might just give it to you. Anything for our dear players, after all."
You might be a player but he's the one playing with you as his fingers hover over your clit, never touching it, waiting for you to give in.
And you do, you do, you do.
"Please, touch me, S-sir..."
You don't know his name but the title has him go feral and he attacks you, cruel and merciless in the way he makes you come undone under his touch, leaving a trail of kisses along your throat as you cry in pleasure, tears rolling down your cheeks and mind too blurry to mutter anything but please.
"Want you, want your cock, Sir, please, please..."
Maybe it's the despair, maybe it's the loneliness at this point, and you know you shouldn't crave for the very person who murdered every single friend you made in this god-forsaken place, for the very person who wouldn't hesitate to raise a gun to your forehead and shoot, but yet you do, and it's as excruciating as it feels exquisite.
He unzips his red outfit, revealing his strong, scarred chest right beneath, and the fabric falls over his hips until he pulls it down just a bit lower along with his underwear to free his aching cock. It stands proud against his stomach, little pearl of precum on top faintly gleaming in the weak lights of the bathroom, but you don't get to stare for long.
A second later, the tip brushes against your folds, and inside it goes.
It feels huge between your walls, and the man laughs when it tears a muffled scream from your lips. His hand rises to your forehead and he pushes away a strand that stuck to the clammy skin there, his gesture almost kind, gentle.
"I'm going to take real good care of you, number 022," he says, softly kissing the shape of your jaw.
And he does.
His rough strokes inside you have you come undone around him twice more before he paints your walls white, cumming with a low, deep groan that you wouldn't have expected from the cold leader of the Squid Game's Masked Staff.
Later, when you put your sweats back on (without your panties - you can't find them anywhere), he stares at you again, his gaze on you now a familiar feeling that you've come to yearn for.
"Tomorrow's game," he says. "Glass panels. Left, left, right, left, right, right and left again."
You freeze, eyes darting all around the room, searching for cameras, mikes, anything.
"Y-you can't do that. The last people who helped a player got executed."
He laughs, as if the very thought was ridiculous, but he still ruffles your hair, amused like a pet owner laughing at a cute mistake their kitten just made.
"Good that I'm not like the others then, Angel, and you're too pretty to kill. Think of it as another debt, alright? I'll claim it once you win and..."
He leans towards you, menacing, until his breath tickles the skin of your throat as he whispers in your ear.
"It's not money you'll need to pay me back."
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what he wishes he could take back
feat. aizawa. bakugo. dabi. denki. kirishima.
aizawa - “get your hands off of me”
aizawa swears he had a bad day, a bad week, a bad month, he really does. he didn’t mean to push you away whenever you wanted to soothe him, he didn’t mean to swat you away, he didn’t mean to yell at you like that. and now, as he looks around your - no, now just his - bedroom, realizing that you were being serious that you were in fact gone, all he wishes for are your hands, running through his hair and your quiet whispers, telling him that everything would be okay again.
bakugo - “you‘ll never be good enough”
bakugo wants to kick himself. he has always been hot headed, he was always easy to rile up, he was always one to blow up; yet he never regretted anything he said as much as this. bakugo hates lies, he always did and still he was the one to tell the biggest one in his entire life. because you were good enough, you had always been good enough. you were the one that somehow always knew how to help him calm down, you always knew when he needed space, you knew what he wanted, what he feared, what he craved, even if he never said it out loud. and now you were gone.
dabi - “leave and don’t fucking come back”
dabi wants to tell himself that it’s better this way. he knows he should be happy now with you finally gone, leaving no trace behind, just like he told you to. and yet he still finds himself aching for you, looking for you whenever his gaze flies over crowds of people. he says he’s unbothered, he swears he doesn’t care when he sees you one day, smiling just the way you did when you were with him, only it’s not him you‘re there with, it’s someone else, someone that seemingly made you happy, someone that made you laugh, someone that you gave all your attention to now. and dabi should be happy to because that’s what he wanted, right?
denki - “i don’t need you”
denki never felt so stupid. sure, he was never at the top of his class, but that never really mattered, since he didn’t have to do extremely well academically to fulfill his dream. he could still be a hero, a great here. that’s what you always said to him. he never noticed how much comfort he found in your words of affirmation, how well you treated him, how much you lifted his spirits. he didn’t think much of it, he thought it was normal, nothing special, only to realize the truth way too late. at the end of the day he does need you, more than anything else. he was just too late - too stupid - to realize that.
kirishima - “who could ever love someone like you?”
kirishima loved you. you we’re so pure, so so honest, so perfect for him that it physically hurts just to think about that. he knew about you, he cherished you much more than anything else in his life. he loved to lift your spirits when you felt down, he loved to cuddle you after a long day, he loved talking to you and hearing your voice. you were everything to him, you were the one he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. so why did he say it? why was he the one to crush your soul? why did he shatter every bit of confidence, the same confidence he helped you to build, adoring how good it looked on yoh? that’s one thing he‘ll never find an answer too.
© radioshima. all rights reserved. do not modify, copy or claim as your own. do not repost. reblogs are appreciated
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𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — 𝐢.𝐦
Pairing: Pro Hero!Izuku Midoriya x fem!reader
Warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, choking, dacryphilia, degradation, overstimulation, hints of dubcon if you squint, semi-public sex, office sex, tummy bulge, slight size kink
Summary: Izuku and you finally have some privacy, after months of being busy and unable to spend time together.
A/N: This was supposed to be a short drabble, but then I got too motivated and horny to keep it this short. I'm still not satisfied with this fic and I'm not sure what to think of it, since I don't write nsfw fics that often, so comments and reblogs are definitely appreciated 🖤
Word count: 1.714 words
“F-Fuck! ‘S good, baby, so fucking good,” Izuku groans as he sinks into your wet heat, your walls clenching tightly around the length of his thick cock and it takes him every ounce of fucking self-control he has left to let you adjust to his size and the burning stretch between your legs for a fleeting moment.
You missed this. Missed touching him and worshipping him, missed how he feels buried so deeply in your cunt and how his toned body seems to surrender to you entirely. It's so annoying how busy you both are with the new hero agency you built and the missions that take him away from you for days, leaving you both touchstarved and yearning for just a second of holding each other close.
Your hands slide over his arms to rest on his broad shoulders and a choked whimper tumbles from your lips, shifting your hips tentatively just to rile him up further until his restraints crumble and he finally gives into his animalistic urge to ruin you just like he wants to.
He’s just so needy. A whimpering mess underneath you, fingertips digging into the soft fat of your thighs as he begins to rut into your tight cunt with primal desperation.
“So fucking tight,” he curses breathlessly and you barely catch his words, mind turning to static with each drag of his cock against your sweet spot. It’s messy, so desperate and feral how effortlessly he yanks you up with his calloused hands wrapped tightly around your thighs and fills you to the brim again. Fucks you hard and deep like he means it, like he wants to stuff you full with his seed and never leave the warmth of your pussy ever again. “You’re so perfect, fuck, can’t wait to see you dripping with my cum.”
Izuku’s praise shoots straight to your core, making your velvety walls flutter and tighten impossibly around him in response. Of course, he notices. A guttural groan escapes him as he picks up the pace and thrusts upward mercilessly, one of his hands wrapping around your throat in the process.
You can’t do anything but let him use you like his personal little fucktoy he manhandles however he wants. ‘S not his fault your pussy is creaming so much, ‘s not his fault he’s so hungry for the sensation of your cunt wrapped snugly around his cock, so whipped for your pretty pussy that he nearly lost his mind after barely a full month of not being able to touch you properly.
The only exception were sneaky kisses here and there, teasing touches when the employees weren’t looking, but it’s not easy to find some time for more than just a quick peck on the lips with assistants and his sidekick around almost every day.
Honestly, you love this agency, really, wouldn’t want to imagine your life without the success of fulfilling your dreams and you count yourself lucky to be the one who manages the agency and supports his eager sidekick, though it would be nice to get some privacy once in a while.
Those few minutes you get in the morning when most assistants haven't arrived for work or already headed out to grab coffee and run some errands aren’t nearly enough to satisfy Izuku’s need to fuck you stupid until you’re nothing but a drooling slut who’s unable to form coherent sentences and walk properly after he's done.
And you were so mean about it, too.
Shit, he hates you for it, absolutely despises you for being such a brat and taking the chance of having no opportunity to fuck to mess with him. It started slow, so slow he barely noticed your initial plan until it was far too fucking late.
Your hand wandered over his thigh under the table in his office where you were sitting next to him during another meeting and before he could utter your name, you were already cupping his crotch with the palm of your hand, unobtrusively caressing his growing bulge until he felt like the seams of his pants were about to burst.
And then you just left with the lame excuse of feeling unwell. He knew better.
He tried his best to wait longer, to persevere out of pure spite and stubbornness to win this game of whatever you started there. Successfully, he ignored every pathetic attempt of yours to rile him up further, dismissed your calls for him, and never looked at you when you dropped something on purpose, bending down right in front of him to grind your ass against his crotch when no one was looking. Admittedly, after a few days he was certain he had you in the palm of his hands until you crossed the fucking line.
You were nodding along to one of his sidekick's adventurous stories when you sat down on his lap without a warning, merely giving him a faux smile of sympathy before returning your attention to the boy who followed you into Deku's office. It took him a moment to realize, but then he felt your slick seeping through his pants and he just knew — you weren’t wearing any panties. Without any hesitance, he send his sidekick out for some errands and had you facing him, pants hastily pushed down enough to free his cock.
Maybe you won this time, though he can’t complain about his doom.
“Wanna cum in you, sweetheart. Wanna fill you up real nice, please... you’re gonna let me do that, right? Let me pump this tight pussy full with my cum,” he babbles mindlessly, scarred hand wandering over your hips to rest on your stomach and press down.
His words are barely audible, muffled against the juncture of your neck where he leaves open-mouthed kisses and sinks his teeth in your delicate skin, lapping hungrily over the wounded spot with his tongue. “Tell me you want it too, princess.”
At this point, he’s delirious. Bottom lip caught in his teeth as he splits you open with his dick, watches your belly bulge with each hard thrust he gives. Your pleas to move slower fall on deaf ears, too focused on the way he reaches so deep inside you that he doesn’t even register how you cum around him for the second time. How your eyes cross and your jaw slacks in a silent scream of ecstasy, vision whitening, feebly clawing at his arms for some kind of support as your orgasm washes over you in violent waves of heat that let your body tremble in his calloused hands.
Heavy balls slap against the curve of your ass, each thrust seems to grow harsher, deeper than before, and knock the air out of your lungs before you can catch your breath. It’s too much. It’s too much and you try to push him away, but Izuku only wraps a strong arm around your back and pulls you flush against his heaving chest. You’re trapped in his tight grasp.
“Please, ‘s too much... I can’t, ‘Zuku,” you sob against his collarbone, yet you still move your bruised hips to meet his thrusts and bounce on his cock, still so eager to please him and give him what he craved all week.
Izuku only whines your name and keeps pounding into your poor pussy with merciless pace that’ll surely bruise your thighs and ass, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t give a shit about the tears streaming down your flushed cheeks and the helpless cries that tumble from your swollen lips, begging him to go slower.
This isn’t about you anymore.
“You can take it, princess,” he grits out through gnashed teeth. Strong hands wrap around your hips and push you down on his cock as he thrusts upward, chasing his own release with every nudge of his tip against your cervix. Fuck, he can feel how deep he reaches, feels your stomach bulge against his abdomen and it makes him impossibly harder, because you’re so small compared to him, it’s a miracle his cock fits inside you. “Guess you were made for me, b-baby.”
It hurts so good, so fucking good that you’re gushing around his length again, sobbing his name while your eyes roll in the back of your head and your body twitches from the intensity of overwhelming pleasure. “That’s it... I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Izuku’s hips sputter and his cheeks flush a deep crimson. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, cling to his long lashes as he looks at you with need before his head falls forward and he chants your name like it’s a prayer, the only one he knows and truly believes in. You swear you’ve never heard him this desperate before.
“F-fuck, take it — fucking take it like a good cum slut, yeah,” he chokes out and your hands lift shakily to card through his unruly curls. Fuck, he’s on the verge of crying, you can hear it in the crack of his voice, in absolute bliss as he finally fills you up and paints your insides white with thick spurts of cum.
And he swears he found a fucking angel, he’s sure you’re a blessing sent from heaven when he gazes at your fucked out expression, stars in your glassy eyes while he shoots load after load into your cunt and fills you to the brim.
Your orgasm hits you when he slips a hand between your sticky thighs, the other one holding you steadily on his cock while his thumb begins to circle your sensitive clit in slow motions. It’s mind-shattering, hits you with unexpected force, and coaxes a sharp scream out of your throat that grows into incoherent whimpers until your voice gives out.
You’re going stupid in his lap and Izuku only manages to give you a sly grin, feels your juices and his cum seep out of your abused hole and soak his pants.
“It’s okay, I got you. Take your time, you were such a good girl for me today,” he coos and runs a hand through your sweat-dampened hair. Pushes a strand out of your glowing face to see you smile lazily at him before he presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and checks the time. “We still have an hour left until my next meeting.”
There’s no escaping when he lifts you off his cock and bends you over his desk, merely shushing you at the noises of complaint you make. “Don’t be a brat now, sweetheart. You were doing so good and it would be a shame if we wasted our free time like this.”
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✩pairing: Touya Todoroki x Fem!Reader
✩genre: fluff, smut
✩word count: 3.8k
✩warnings: injury and blood (nothing gory), codependent relationship (but make it cute), fingering (fem receiving), praise kink, soft dabi w/ very consensual sex, unprotected sex,
✩authors note: aaaaa patched up. my very first fic. this version is reworked to suit my newer style but i still am v sentimental about it. i always debate changing the title but i always end up keeping it. this is a repost from my old blog
“It’s my favorite show.” You tell him quietly as you sit down on the couch next to him. He clears his throat when he sees you, shifting his eyes to the floor. It’s when you notice the pinpricks of blood on his chest, seeping lightly through the white t-shirt he has on. You gesture with a nod for him to take it off. He pulls the fabric off, pain contorting his face into a grimace. The staples holding the skin on his chest are slightly agape. Cuts and bruises all over his body making him look like a nebula of pain.
“What did you do?” You ask him, knowing that it’s pointless. Knowing he’ll spare you.
“Fell.” He tells you with finality.
You weren’t sure exactly how Dabi found you, but you couldn’t find it in you to be mad that he did.
You stared at him, the question of what happened resting on the tip of your tongue before deciding that now is not the time.
The scarred man drinks in his surroundings, his long arm holding the opposite one as he tries to keep the staples clasping his skin together from separating. His cerulean eyes are moving everywhere, from the coffee table cluttered with magazines you don’t read, the dusty tv stand full of movies you’ve seen a million times, over to the kitchen where the sink is loaded with coffee cups and plates. You figure that it’s not you, per se, that’s making him look so on edge. He’s always been someone that has to look out for himself. His attitude is much like a cornered alley cat.
You walk over, moving the nest of soft blankets to the opposite side of the couch and motion for him to sit down.
“I’m going to get my first aid kit,” you say to him, walking to your bathroom. When you come out he’s staring at the bookshelf, running his thin and worn fingers down the bindings of your favorite books. “Dabi,” you call out to him, he turns to you, his eyes flashing in surprise. “Sit.” You ask, half demanding, the other half pleading.
He walks over quietly, body lazily plopping on the couch as his face contorts in thinly veiled pain. You lay towels behind him, an effort to keep blood off your couch. Your grandma gave it to you. It’s an effort to keep what little you have nice. You gently touch the arm holding his wound together, looking at him with a silent request to move it. He stares at you, lips turned in a slight frown that reeks of distrust but what else can he do?
“What happened….?” You ask in a whisper, disinfecting the wound.
“Wrong time, wrong place.” You look at him as he looks away. You know he’s lying. Keeping things from you. Keeping you safe from the harsh reality of who he is. You focus your thoughts on pulling his skin back together.
He seethes in pain every time your nimble fingers pull the skin taut, replacing the staples that were broken with new ones.
“Thank you.” He says when you’re done, looking around your apartment as if he expects someone or something to jump out at him.
“Can I ask you something?” You look at him, staring directly in his eyes as if that’ll actually force the truth out of him. He breaks eye contact first, but nods. “How did you find me?”
“I brought you home that night, remember?” He responds, his voice quiet. Then you remember the man with tired eyes and blue hair.
You remember the way he held onto your arm too tight, the way his eyes looked at you hungrily, and how his touch made your clothing disintegrate. You recall Dabi shouting at him. The way everything hurt after you were let go.
“You fell when he let you go. Hit your head on the concrete. I found your address in your phone, and took you home. Speaking of,” he looks at you, voice low and sultry. He looks almost inviting, as if he’s daring you to come closer. “You need to remember to lock your door, dollface. Anyone could come in here.”
You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes at him.
You don’t see Dabi again until days later when he’s knocking on your door, a familiar and scared look on his face. You gesture towards the couch where he sat last time, grabbing the first aid kit and towels yet again.
When you come back, you find him silently watching the sitcom you have on. His arms are close to his body. Protecting himself. He’s smirking along with the canned laughter of the audience. You like his smile, you think to yourself. You wonder for a moment how it looks when he’s full on beaming.
“It’s my favorite show.” You tell him quietly as you sit down on the couch next to him. He clears his throat when he sees you, shifting his eyes to the floor. It’s when you notice the pinpricks of blood on his chest, seeping lightly through the white t-shirt he has on. You gesture with a nod for him to take it off. He pulls the fabric off, pain contorting his face into a grimace. The staples holding the skin on his chest are slightly agape. Cuts and bruises all over his body making him look like a nebula of pain.
“What did you do?” You ask him, knowing that it’s pointless. Knowing he’ll spare you.
“Fell.” He tells you with finality.
He angles his body slightly towards you so you can patch him up. Doing everything in his power to avoid touching you. He hisses when a cotton ball touches his wounds. Biting the inside of his cheek as he hyper focuses on the tv. You notice he smells like campfire and cigarettes. You notice you find it comforting.
“You need to watch your step, this had to have been one hell of a fall.” Your tone is light, prodding. He doesn’t fall for it, just keeps his eyes plastered to the tv. You knew he wouldn’t. He’s not dumb. Especially not to your incessant nosiness.
You make quick work of his chest area, refastening staples and bandaging wounds. This time he doesn’t leave immediately after and you’re glad. You sit in a companionable silence. Small chuckles shared between you two as you both watch the show.
4 episodes later and he’s standing up to leave. You have to resist the urge to ask him to stay. You like his company. It’s effortless and soft. You wonder if he feels the same.
Before he leaves this time, he tells you to call him Touya.
He showed up again a week later, having you patch up scrapes on his face. These ones were easy. You suspect he just wanted to come over. You’re okay with that.
You can feel his breath on your hands as your nimble fingers work at the fleshy part of his cheek. His eyes strain with the effort of looking anywhere but you. When you’re done you lean back, your thumb holding his face as you admire your handiwork. You hear his breath hitch when you touch him. He’s not used to being touched. Not used to soft hands that care instead of hurt. Before you can work up the courage to stroke an inky lock of hair out of his face, the coffee pot beeps.
“Coffee, this late?” Touya asks incredulously, his eyes flickering to the clock showing that it’s 2am.
“Well,” you respond from the kitchen, keeping your back away from him. “You… you always show up late at night. So I’ve been brewing coffee to keep me awake in case you come by.” You add creamer to your mug, watching the way the liquids swirl together. “Do you want any?” You turn but he’s next to you instead of on the couch. You let out a little yelp of surprise, not expecting him to be so close.
He stares at you, brows furrowed and an unreadable expression in his eyes. You shrink under his gaze. Slowly -as if he doesn’t want to scare you- he lifts a hand and moves a strand of hair out of your face, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it go.
“Sure.” He says, voice slightly choked.
“Cream or sugar?” You ask, you tiptoe to reach a mug out of the cabinet, but he grabs it for you.
“Black.” His lips are turned up in the corners as he hands the mug to you.
You try to keep your hand steady as you hand the mug full of coffee to him, refusing to meet his eyes. He follows you back to the couch, and you resume the sitcom you’ve been watching together.
He’s sitting closer to you than he was before, and you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. You try to relax, playing with your fingers as you stare at the tv. You’re not taking in what’s going on. You’ve seen this episode many times.
Your ribs feel too small for your chest when Touya grabs your hand. You look over to him. His eyes are plastered to the tv, pretending nothings going on as he takes a sip from a chipped mug. You take his hand and flip it over, tracing the scars on his palm. His fingers twitch when you do.
He watches 2 episodes with your hand in his before he goes. This time he kisses your hair before he leaves.
You’re wondering if you should go to bed since it’s almost 5am. It’s been 2 days since Touya came by last. You feel disappointed. You’re trying to figure out why.
You stand up, and drop a forgotten cup of coffee at the sink. As you start to walk to your bedroom you hear a bang, followed by a grunt at your door. Touya collapses on you smelling like blood, smoke and sweat. His weight makes your knees buckle for a moment. Your curse under your breath and catch yourself.
“What happened?” You know it’s pointless to ask but you can’t help yourself. Always asking the same question. Always getting the same answer.
“Overused…...my quirk. Everything.... burns.” He mutters between breaths. You drag him to the bathroom -an impressive feat since he’s bigger than you are- and start running a cold bath for him. You set him on the toilet, and disinfect his burns. He hisses and clenches his teeth as you mutter apologies to him. You try to explain you have to do this. He nods, understanding. It’s painful for you too.
“I’ll be right back, stay here.” You assure him. He looks scared. Vulnerable. A version of Touya that you feel privileged to see. “I’ll be right back.” You say much quieter, gently cupping his cheek. He nods at you, his eyes swimming with hesitant acceptance.
You come back and dump a bucket of ice into the cold bath. Help him take off his burnt clothing. You ease him into the bath, noticing how the bath water tinges with red. You take a washcloth and soap, rubbing away the blood on his body. Wondering if he can rub away pain that’s under the surface. He hums softly while you do, a soft little song only you two will know.
You turn the detachable shower head on, and wash his hair. Scrubbing it gently, detangling his hair with your fingers as you work shampoo into his hair.
“I’m sorry it smells like flowers,” you whisper to him, not sure why you feel like you should apologize. “I don’t have anything else.”
“No,” he says simply. He sounds tired. “I like it..it smells like you.”
You clear your throat as heat crawls up your face. “My brother came to visit a few months ago and left some clothing behind. I’ll get them for you.” You stand up, and he gently grabs your wrist. He looks scared again. “I’ll be right back.” You gently reassure him. He should know you have no intention of leaving. Not if you can help it. You release the plug in the tub.
You come back with sweatpants and a t-shirt and set them on the toilet along with a fresh towel.
“I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.” You inform him. As if there’s anywhere else you could be.
You’re sitting on the couch when he comes in. The same sitcom you’ve both been watching playing in the background. You attempt to look like you haven’t been waiting eagerly for him. He lays on the couch, head in your lap and arms tight around your middle. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs.
“Stay.” You whisper, breath shaking. You don’t know why you’re asking. Why the request scares you. “Please.” He nods as he tightens his grip around you.
“Can we watch that show?” He looks at you, turquoise eyes bright. He looks excited, almost like a child. The sight makes your heart soar.
“Of course.” You giggle. You’ll always be willing to indulge him.
You both watch the show until the sun starts peeping through the blinds in your living room. The sun casting an annoying glare on your tv. You never stop stroking his hair the entire time. Every time you do, Touya grunts and rubs his head on your hand.
You stifle a yawn, trying to stay awake. You don’t want to fall asleep. You’re sure you’ll wake up to him gone.
“You’re tired.” He states, looking up at you. Not really a question. An observation.
“No I’m-” your sentence is cut off by a yawn. Touya grins. It’s bright like you imagined it would be. He sits up, hovering over your lap. His eyes linger on your face. Your breath hitches at how close he is to you. Your heart feels like a hummingbird in your chest. He looks into your eyes, silently asking for consent. You nod.
When he kisses you, he’s gentle. Like a butterfly's wings. He kisses you like you’re porcelain, like he’s scared to break you. When he pulls away, you have to stifle a whine; feeling desperate and needy for him.
“Go to bed, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into your ear, thin fingers stroking your hair as he leans his head on your cheek. He feels reassuring. Kind. Like holding your favorite blanket after a nightmare.
The next morning when you wake up he’s not in your bed. You panic for a moment, before finding yourself angry. He said he’d stay. He didn’t. He broke his promise. You walk out into the living area, tears brimming your eyes. Touya’s in the kitchen. He looks like he’s been waiting for you all morning.
“You ok, doll?” He looks over at you. He’s doing the dishes. You look around and notice the living room is clean and there’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. “Cream and sugar right?” He smiles at you.
You can’t help it. The tears finally fall from your eyes. Touya notices immediately. Nothing really gets past him. He wraps you in his arms, and you feel warm.
“What’s wrong?” He whispers in your hair, concern leaking out of the edges of his voice.
“N-nothing,” you sob, your chest heaving as pathetic hiccups rack your body. “I-I was j-just s-scared I t-thought you left.”
“Dollface,” he tilts your head up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “A promise is a promise.” He places a chaste kiss on your forehead and playful tap on your nose. You can’t help but smile. He’s always made you feel warm.
You wipe your eyes, scolding yourself internally that you didn’t trust him to stay. He said he would. He’s never lied to you before. Why would he start now?
“Do you want breakfast?” You ask. He nods, and ruffles your hair.
The two of you spend the day watching the sitcom, peppering kisses on each other at least once an episode. It rained today, making the apartment windows fog up. It’s a gentle rain. The kind that forces someone to pull the other close. The kind that feels like healing; the kind that makes the day feel like Sunday. Touya feels like Sunday to you, being with him is lazy and effortless. Easy.
You both managed to get through an entire season today, only leaving the couch for bathroom breaks. When the season ends Toya gets up, and you look at him questioningly. He squats in front of you with a sigh.
“I have to go, but I promise I’ll be back.” He looks heartbroken. Like he doesn’t want to leave. You try to smile at him. To reassure him and let him know you’ll be fine, but for the second time today your eyes are filling with tears. He gives you a gentle kiss on the lips, and his hand cups your cheek.
“Promise?” Your voice cracks.
“Do you know when you’ll be back?”
“I don’t know, doll.” He says simply. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok?”
“Okay.” You kiss him again, long and slow. Just like Sunday.
It’s 5 days before he comes back. When he opens the door you can’t help jumping on him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He still smells like your shampoo, you realize. The thought makes your heart feel like it’s too big for your chest.
“I missed you too, doll.” He laughs in your hair, his arms wrapped around you tightly. “Aren’t you tired? It’s 3am.”
“I was worried about you.” You sigh into his neck. You release yourself from him, backing up so he can kick his shoes off. You feel giddy. Especially now that you know he won’t run away if you show it.
“Hey,” he grins at you. “I told you I’ll come back, no matter what. I’ll always come back.” He sounds so sure. So firm. It makes you feel sure too.
“Let’s go to bed.” You grab his hand, dragging him to the bedroom.
You both change into sleep clothing silently. There’s never been a need to fill the silence with speaking. You’ve taken to wearing the shirt he came over in the night you bathed him, blood stains removed. It’s comforting. If you close your eyes, it was almost like he never left.
“Is that my shirt?” You hear a teasing lilt in his voice.
“It smells like you.” You respond simply, crawling into bed next to him.
You’re both on your sides, looking at each other. You feel his hand on your waist and he pulls you closer. He kisses you passionately, thumb drawing small circles at your waist. When his tongue slides across your bottom lip, you grant him access, letting him explore the inside of your mouth. Suddenly it’s fast and ruthless, no real method to it, it’s like he’s desperate to claim every part of you. All at once he pulls away, saliva connecting the two of you.
“I want you.” He whispers against your lips, then pulls away farther to look into your eyes. You look away from him, nervous. “Wait… (Y/N), are you a virgin?” You nod. He props himself up on an elbow, and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I want to but just…go gentle.” He smiles at you, and you melt.
“At any moment you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop.” He whispers, dropping his below and leveling his eyes with yours. It’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him look. You nod, and he leans in, resuming his kiss.
He moves his lips down to your neck and chest, leaving soft purple galaxies on your body and rewarding your moans and whines with more in the areas you like. You silently wish his marks could be permanent. His hand slides up your t-shirt, grasping at the soft plush of your breasts. His fingers tease your nipples, gentle teases and tugs at them.
You feel his hand slide down to your cunt, moving the slick gathering in your panties. You gasp quietly and he stops, looking at you again for consent. You nod and he pulls your underwear off. He finds your clit immediately, rubbing small circles around it. He’s tender when he sticks his fingers in you, stretching you out before adding the other. Effortlessly finding just the right spot that makes you writhe in pleasure and grasp at the bedsheets. “Good girl.” He mutters with a breathless moan. The praise makes your pussy flutter around his fingers. He quirks an eyebrow at you, looking teasing. “Oooh? You like that, baby? Like being called a good girl?” You nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth and unable to speak.
You’re panting soon enough, heat coiling in your stomach as you buck your hips with his fingers as your climax washes over you. He rides it out slowly, whispering praises in your ear and milking every twitch and moan out of you. Never stopping until your body stops twitching. You feel boneless after, warm and blissed. He gently pushes you onto your back, gently shoving his fingers coated with essence in your mouth. You clean them off, wrapping your tongue around his digits as he sighs. “Good fucking girl.” he says again to you.
“Still ok?” He asks quietly, searching your face for any discomfort.
“Do you want to keep going?”
You bite your lip and nod at him. He pulls his sweatpants down as you pull his shirt off of you. His cock is long, thin with veins running down the sides and a pretty pink tip that’s already leaking pre. He looks at you once again, making sure you really want this. Making sure you really want him. You grab his shoulder and pull him back onto you, wordlessly pulling him into another kiss. He groans as you tangle your hand in his hair, and you sigh at the noises he makes.
“Let me know if it hurts.” He pulls away long enough to tell you, his lips an inch above yours. You nod as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He lines his cock up with your entrance, being as gentle as he can as he bottoms out inside of you with a hiss. It doesn’t hurt, just makes you feel full. You moan in pleasure when he starts thrusting, bucking your hips into his with tiny and desperate cries. He sets a gentle pace, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he fucks into you.
“Fuck..” he whispers into your ear. “Feel so good, so soft. Such a good girl, taking me so well.” You moan at his words, loving the way he feels inside you. The way his cock gently kisses your cervix and brushes over that spongy spot inside of you that sends you over the edge again.
“Shit.” He breathes out, thrusts getting more erratic as you climax pushes him to his own. “I’m gonna cum....fuck.” You angle your hips upward, wanting and craving more and more of him. He cums, whimpering sighs escaping his lips. He plops on top of you, sighing when he does.
“You ok?” He smiles, looking up at you. Always checking to make sure you’re okay.
“Yes, Touya.” You grin back at him, your fingers finding a home in his hair and stroking his locks.
“Doll?” He sounds scared for a moment, his voice thick with worry.
“I love you.” He tells you, sounding small. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his hair.
“I love you too…” you’re silent for a minute, staring at the shapes in your ceiling. “Will you be here in the morning?”
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I defy your means of keeping me here! I will find a way out and I swear when I do I’ll make sure you will never find me. You can’t keep me here forever Todoroki, so keep those lies of ‘keeping me safe’ to yourself! as long as i have my quirk, freedom is within my grasp. (totally isn’t weak to cold or anything what are you talking about?)
My dear you know I just want what’s best for us. Keeping you here with me is the safest thing. I am able to keep my eye on you and keep you protected.
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