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#thecowboyanon writes
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Thinking about the first time you’re making out with Katsuki.
You didn’t expect things to get so heavy so quickly, but it’s hard to complain when you’re pressed so snugly against his side with your shirt off, one of his hands hooked under your ass.
He grins when he pulls away from your mouth to unbutton your jeans, slipping them down just a little.
“Matching set, huh?” He’s all too smug, his smile almost predatory when he gazes down at you. Too confident, too easy for him, and it feels a little like he’s laughing at you, embarrassment making your tongue a little sharp.
“I’m always matching, you’re not that special,” you wish it sounds more convincing, but you’re a little breathless from his kisses and his touches, already stretching to taste his mouth again.
He pulls away a little bit at that, his smile faltering for just a moment as he gazes down at you curiously.
“That was rude,” he tuts after a moment, keeping his mouth just out of reach of yours as he turns for his drink, taking a long sip of that whiskey you couldn’t dream of affording.
You immediately feel guilty, but before you can apologize, his fingers are gripping your cheeks, holding your mouth open for him to press his thumb against your tongue, his eyes sharp as he watches yours flutter shut.
“So pliant for someone so mean,” he laughs softly, and your cheeks redden, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip as he finally closes in again, breath warm over your mouth when he speaks.
“We’ll fix that, don’t worry.”
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“Oh now it’s ‘more, touya’, ‘please, touya,’” he sneers, nose pressed to your cheek as his warm breath fans over your skin. His fingers dig harder into your face, keeping you turned away and unable to kiss him. It’s humiliating as he pulls more sounds and pleas from you, knowing you want nothing more than to shut yourself up with his mouth.
“What happened to all that fuckin’ venom from a second ago? What happened to ‘I hate you, Touya’?” He snarls, hips slowing as you press your lips onto a thin line, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out for him again.
His teeth sink into your cheek hard enough that you hiss in pain, fingers gripping his hair to yank his head back, twisting in his grasp to glare at him, both of you panting, teeth bared.
“I do fucking hate you,” you hiss, and his hips snap against you hard in retaliation, his cockhead smashing into that spongey spot inside you. Your eyes roll back as he forces all the air out of your lungs, whatever hateful words you had ready dying on your tongue as your brain goes fuzzy. He’s quick to notice, angling his hips to hone in on that spot, his pace quickening.
“Hate you so fucking much,” you manage to choke out as that coil in your stomach tightens faster and faster, and your cunt tightens around him.
He knows you’re close, and for the third time since he’s shoved you up against the wall, he snatches your orgasm from your grasp, his hips stilling.
A broken sob crawls it’s way from your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling down your cheeks.
He taps your cheek firmly with one finger to get your attention, your face still firmly in his grasp and you level him with a glare filled with as much hate as you can muster. He’s completely unbothered, but you do notice his blue eyes softening as he leans forward, peppering kisses over your cheeks.
“Oh, sweet girl,” he sighs out, tracing an invisible path along your face with his lips. “I promise I’ll let you cum as soon as you stop lying to me,” he breathes, lips ghosting over yours. His mouth twitches in a grin when you inhale sharply, when you tilt forward a little bit, eyes fluttering shut at his soothing tone.
“Just admit you love me and I’ll make you cum on my cock.”
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Everyone kinda laughs when they see you and Bakugou together.
Not because you don’t look good together, but because they’ve never seen him like that.
He’s full of soft kisses, an arm protectively around your waist or shoulders when you stand and talk, or firmly holding your own when you walk along side him.
He’s always holding doors open for you, always pressing a coffee into your hand if he’s passing you at his agency between meetings, letting his fingers brush over yours.
At evening events, paparazzi has had an easy time catching the two of you in quiet moments, his lips pressed to your collarbone, mouthing sweet words into your skin. The headlines are always stupid and suggestive, and Bakugou snorts whenever he sees them, mutters about how they’d explode if they knew what you two did in private.
His friends give him a hard time about how whipped he is, laughing over a drink about how they never thought they’d see him buying flowers for anything but a funeral. How all they had to do to get him to smile more was get him a girlfriend. They’ve never seen Bakugou yield to a single soul and there he is, worshipping the ground you walk on.
They don’t realize that up until he met you, Bakugou had been convinced he just wasn’t meant to be in love.
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Barbarian! Bakugou who loves to torture you, the eldest child of one of his parent’s advisors.
As a kid, he loved to pop up behind you, out of bushes, around corners, just to hear you shriek and then he’d run off laughing. Tug on your hair until you’d bat at him.
As a teen, he was no better, galloping his horse entirely too close to you as he passed, jamming a chair in front of your door so you were late to the lessons you shared with him.
And as an adult? God, he was insufferable. His pranks weren’t so physical anymore, not aiming to make you shriek. He just liked bothering you, loved getting a rise out of you as you tried to study, his heavy boots sprawled across your desk as he sat in your chair. He loved your sharp tongue, grinning widely when you’d mutter our complaints over being his advisor one day.
You never understood why the women around the palace and kingdom fawned over him. Sure, he was handsome, with his golden skin and blonde locks and eyes the color of your favorite wildflowers… but he was an ass, and you both knew it.
But despite all his torturing and pestering, you never fought back, a fact that had him amping up his antics, getting bolder.
It’s how you end up in your current situation, pinned up against a shelf in the library, Bakugou’s hulking figure closing you in as he smirks down at you. He’s entirely too close, and you hold a book clutched to your chest to try and create a sort of barrier between you and his roaming gaze.
He looks entirely too comfortable like this, licking his lip before he speaks, his voice low and teasing. “Yknow my parents keep telling me that eventually I’ll have to settle down and start producing heirs. As my future advisor, I think it’s only fair you help me practice, for the good of the kingdom.”
Your eyes widen and cheeks heat at what he’s suggesting, and panic trips in your chest as he begins to lean in closer. You react without thinking, lifting the heavy book in your hands and swinging.
You didn’t really mean to hit him, only hoping that he’d dodge the swipe, but there’s a harsh smack as the leather makes contact with his cheek and his face is shoved sideways.
You gasp, the book dropping from your grasp with a clatter as your hands cover your mouth in horror, already babbling out apologies as he straightens, rubbing his cheek.
You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can see all your hard work and parent’s legacy crumble before your very eyes, sure that you’ve doomed your entire family with one accidental strike.
Tears begin to bubble at your lashline, blurring your vision as he turns to face you. You’re quick to cover your face, horrified to let him see you like this. You jump when a hand circles around your wrist and tugs it down, calloused from years of wielding a sword.
A moment later, he’s pressing the book back into your hand, quiet as you stare up at him in surprise, lip wobbling. He’s still silent as he cups your cheek, swiping away a tear that’s rolling down your skin, and you’re surprised to see that his ruby eyes are gentle, a sharp contrast to the usual glint he usually dons when looking at you.
“Shouldn’t tease you so much, ‘m sorry,” he murmurs, and your mouth falls open in surprise at his apology, especially since you can already see his cheek purpling where you hit him.
Before you can speak, he’s gone again, and you’re left staring after him, wondering what the hell just happened.
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Sleeping Bakugou who’s resting his face on the small of your back while you lay stomach down, scrolling through your phone.
At one point, you shift into a slightly more comfortable position and he mistakes it for you leaving, arms tightening around you and cheek squishing harder into your body.
“Don’t you dare,” he mumbles out, his words muffled before his face relaxes once more and he drifts off again.
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Thinking about big, strong intimidating pro-hero Dynamight who has to psych himself up to give you, (the girl he’s only been crushing on for a year now) a gift for Christmas.
He’s finally resigned himself to just dropping it on your desk and running when he literally runs into you on the way to your office, nearly knocking you off your feet as you bounce off his chest.
He’s quick to mutter out an apology, gripping your hips as he ensures you’re not hurt, heart tripping and face beet red as you laugh and wave off his concern.
It only makes things worse that you notice the brightly wrapped little box clutched in his hand, the paper slightly crumpled from where he rushed to catch you.
He follows your gaze as he lets you go, already missing the feeling of you in his hands and pulls it close to his chest, suddenly worried if you’ll even like it.
For a split second, he seriously considers using his quirk to blow it up and pretend like he has no clue what you mean.
Instead, he thrusts it into your hands, ignoring your look of surprise as he mutters out a Merry Christmas and hurries away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The whole rest of the day, he’s kicking himself, convinced you think he’s an idiot now, that you hated it.
It’s not until later that night, when he gets a text with your name on it and an attached picture, that those fears are eased.
He basically leaps for his phone, cursing impatiently as he waits for the image to load. He sucks in a breath when it does, the sight of your hero costume pulled away from your body just enough to display the pretty orange jewel and dainty chain nestled in the hollow of your throat doing more to him than he’d ever imagined. The picture is angled high so he can see your smiling face, and he finds himself smiling back as he saves it.
His fingers are hovering over the keyboard when you start to type again, a new message popping up soon after.
Thanks for the gift, Dynamight, I think orange is starting to become my favorite color 🧡
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Bakugou serves as a secondary alarm clock in the mornings.
He’s usually up an hour before you, freshly showered with coffee brewing when your first alarm goes off and you roll over with a groan to turn it off.
20 minutes later, he’s waking you up with gentle fingers through your hair, kneeling by your side of the bed and waiting for your eyes to flutter open to tell you to get up.
You whine when he leaves, missing his touch but it’s not long before sleep is reclaiming you.
The next time he stirs you, his teeth are freshly brushed and his hair mostly dry, and he’s far less gentle. His heavy form lands on your hips as he straddles you, leaning down to press firm kisses over your face and shoulders, his fingers pressing into your waist.
You mumble promises about getting up, and he relents, pressing one last kiss to your neck before he’s gone again, grumbling under his breath about how you’ll be the death of him.
The final time he comes in, you hear him coming, still in bed but not quite asleep. The blanket is thrown off you suddenly and then warm hands wrap around your ankles. A second later you’re being yanked down the bed, a surprised yelp escaping you as your eyes fly open.
He pulls you down far enough that your thighs cage in his thin waist, chuckling at your expression when you gape up at him. He looks perfect in his hero gear, mask hanging loosely around his neck and his gauntlets no doubt waiting by the door.
He bends in half to capture your mouth with his in a kiss that’s more than enough to wake you up, and then he’s pulling back, your feet hitting the floor as he takes you with him.
He gives you one last fleeting kiss that has you wanting more and chasing his mouth before he’s disentangling himself from you.
He takes in the pout on your face and chuckles, forehead pressed against yours as he quietly warns you he started your shower and you should get going before the hot water runs out.
And as a reward for keeping you on time in the morning, he makes sure to land a swift smack on your ass as you pass, laughing when you curse him and disappear into the bathroom, rubbing the handprint.
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It’s casual, the way Katsuki’s fingers press against your scalp softly, his other hand holding up the book he’s been working on for about a week now.
You’ve got your head on his lap, and open one eye to peek up at him curiously. He’s not usually one to play with your hair unprompted, especially when he’s focusing on something, but he doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it.
His brows furrow at something he’s reading and you have to stifle a content sigh over the way he works through a tangle absently, afraid he’ll stop if he realizes what he’s doing.
Still, it’s soothing and you find yourself relaxing once more, eyes fluttering shut as he continues to card his fingers through your strands, always gentle and careful not to pull too hard.
You must have dozed off a bit, because next thing you know, his knuckle is grazing over your cheek, prompting you to glance up at the blonde who’s smiling a bit smugly down at you.
“Thought you weren’t tired?”
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Roommate!Bakugou who has to physically restrain himself when you burst into his room, hands thrown up as you flop down onto his bed dramatically, whining “I want to be in love so bad!”
He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from admitting every single thought he’s had about you since before you moved in with him and Kirishima, has to fist the comforter beneath his hands to keep from pulling you into his lap and kissing you senseless.
After a moment, he joins you in staring at the ceiling, mouth dry as he speaks quietly. “Love is overrated.”
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Tired sex with Katsuki where you’re both too exhausted to properly fuck but it’s been too long since you’ve actually been able to be with each other like this.
One arm hooked under your body and breasts as he mouths lazily at your shoulders and neck, the other gripping your hip as he grinds his cock into you, humming appreciatively when you sigh happily.
Neither of you are really looking to rush things or even to cum at this point, and if you both end up falling asleep like this, he certainly won’t complain.
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18+, MDNI
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Cowboy Kiri has been your best friend since the two of you were in middle school, which is the only reason he doesn’t tell you he absolutely hates your boyfriend when y’all are older.
You’ve been dating the jerk for entirely too long in his opinion, and although he hides it well, his patience is waning thin.
He’s tired of hearing your stories about him forgetting a date night or your birthday and then you making an excuse for the piece of shit, when he knows he’d treat you so much better.
He hates the way you giggle whenever someone asks if you’re dating him, as if a relationship with him was just a hilarious idea.
But he’s a patient man. He knows he just has to bide his time and wait for your boyfriend to screw up, right?
And screw up he does, in the form of a pretty pair of panties you’d never wear stuffed in a side pocket of his gym bag. You’re nearly inconsolable for a few weeks, until finally something clicks and he gets you in his bed.
And it’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. Better than all those times he fucked his fist to your pictures.
You’re so receptive, as if you haven’t been fucked properly in years, whining so sweetly for him to give you more, tears wetting your lashline as he makes you come undone over and over. And afterwards, everything is perfect. Your pretty little form curled up against him, legs tangled with his as you sleep. After years of waiting, you’re finally all his. No more giggles when someone asks if you’re together, no more biting his tongue about your boyfriends. Everything is just how it should be.
He’s so glad he convinced Bakugou to slip those panties into your ex’s bag last month.
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Bakugou who cares more about your sleep schedule than you do.
You’ll be up, doing something important at your desk and he just comes in and leans over the back of your chair to pepper kisses over your shoulder and neck, gently coaxing you to bed.
Usually you go without complaint, melting into his touch and letting him lure you to sleep much earlier than you would’ve on your own.
But sometimes, all he gets is a gentle push on his face and a protest of “five minutes”.
So he obliges, sets a timer and then returns on time, only to be waved off again. But he’s not one to take no for an answer.
Next thing you know, you’re being hoisted over his shoulder, his fingers tapping your ass and scolding you for trying to stay up later than you promised.
He insists he only cares about your sleep schedule because “one of us has to be the nice one so we have friends and you, baby, are not nice when tired”
He’d never admit he just doesn’t like sleeping without you.
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I am very much thinking about pro-hero Dynamight as a dad.
He loves his 4 year old son with all his heart, truly he does. But god, does the kid talk. And to make matters worse, he thinks his dad is the coolest person in the world which means he’s always glued to his side.
It doesn’t matter what your husband does, his little doppelgänger is right there, asking a thousand questions or demanding his father watch whatever ‘cool thing’ he was doing.
Your husband was a patient man, but even he had his limits.
It’s how you wind up coming home to your toddler pinned underneath your husbands thick thigh on the couch, his little arms crossed over his chest as he glances at you with a pout that is all Katsuki.
Your husband just glances up at you from his laptop, reading glasses sliding down his nose. He just shrugs at your quizzical look and offers up a simple explanation: “brat wouldn’t stop attacking me.”
“Baby, you can’t just apprehend our son every time he harasses you,” you laugh, bending down to rescue your toddler from his father’s hold.
“I can-and I fucking did, in fact.”
“Language, Kats!”
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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 8 months
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Rough backshots with Katsuki but suddenly he stops to lean forward and press soft open mouthed kisses along your spine just to hear you whine for him
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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 8 months
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“If I asked nicely would you remove my spine then?” The words are muffled against Katsuki’s chest, your cheek smooshed against his warm skin as he chuckles beneath you.
“It’s your muscles that ache, not your spine, dumbass,” he corrects fondly, his fingers working at untangling your hair as he gazes down at you. His hands dip lower occasionally, a casual attempt to check your tempt that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
The groan you let out is full of frustration, eyes closing and arms tightening around his torso. “You’re supposed to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you pout, earning another chuckle and a soft kiss to the top of your head.
“I’m always nice to you.” He muses, resisting the urge to shift beneath you and risk disturbing your achy body. “Speaking of, I really shouldn’t be letting you lay on me when you’ve got a fever. Gonna overheat more,” he warns, his hands rubbing up and down your back despite his words.
“You’re just worried I’m gonna get you sick,” you mumble back, lip poking out in a pout. He sighs in response, his chest rising beneath you as affection seeps into his voice.
“You’re really dramatic when you’re sick, yknow that?”
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Bakugou hears you talking to Mina and Sero one night out with the group that you’re happy with being single- really- but you think all your problems would go away if a guy just platonically held your tit for 15 seconds to remind you what a man’s touch feels like.
He’s maybe had one too many beers and maybe Kaminari’s hushed commentary about how he’d hold the fuck out of your tits, but not in a platonic way, gets under his skin in a way he doesn’t quite understand but before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s stepping into your space and cradling your tit in his hand.
All the conversation stutters to a stop around him as you stare down at his hand in shock, shifting slightly and he realizes he can feel your nipple stiffening beneath his thumb, risking applying gentle pressure just to feel your breath hitch beneath his palm.
It’s only when you lift your gaze to meet his, eyes hooded and mouth parted, that he realizes that maybe this isn’t what you meant when you said platonically, and that he wants nothing more than to see what other sounds he could pull from you with just his hands-
Laughter erupts around the two of you, reminding him of where he’s at, and he’s quick to drop his hand, both of your faces heating as your friends question what the hell that was about, in between choked laughter.
All he can do is avoid your gaze as he mutters out “Just got tired of hearing her whine about it.”
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