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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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Bakugos hands traveling from shoulders to thighs rqq!! Then squeezing that soft flesh and working his way to the lower lips and massaging his way to a squirting session if he's not careful

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — how to be a good boyfriend + katsuki bakugou.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — smut, nsfw, mdni 18+, aged up characters, oil massages, fem!reader, oral!sex (f!receiving), heavy!praise pussy eating, finger fucking, overstimulation, squirting, spitting, needy and soft dom!bakugou.

im assuming this is about the bakugou/oil massage post so hehe here

katsuki is a good boyfriend, the best boyfriend. he prides himself on that fact and you know that it’s true too.

he’s always in tune with your needs and your moods— he’s a little more affectionate and full of praise when he can tell that you’ve had a good day, he’s playful and pinches your sides when he can tell that you need a little cheering up. and when your days are rough? he’s caring, the first person to scoop you into his arms and let you bitch about the coworker that stole your lunch or your project proposal. he does one of three things— make you dinner, run you a bath or offer you a massage. sometimes all three.

but today, when you’d walked through the door— clinging onto consciousness with your shoulders stiff as bolts and your eyes dropping with exhaustion, katsuki had taken one look at you from his seat on the couch and decided. “get naked ‘n on the bed in ten, baby. ‘m givin’ you a massage.”

bakugou already knows your favourite oils, the scent of lavender filling your bedroom as he heats a squeeze of the viscous liquid up between his molten hot palms— he smiles, slick and slow once he spots you in the middle your shared bed laid out bare for him and on your tummy. “you’re so pretty, baby,” he tells you, chest bristling with pride when you whimper out for him to touch you. to soothe your aches and pains away. “s’it okay for me to put my hands on ya? the oil’s hot, don’t wanna burn ya.”

“s’okay, kats.” you pout but your words fall away into a quiet gasp as your boyfriend digs his oiled thumbs into your aching shoulder blades and rolls them around the knots in circles. “o-oh, there. right there kats…”

you feel the bed dip under his weight as he moves to straddle your back and works his way down it— massaging the skin nice and deep underneath his warm palms. “here, princess? want me to work ya here?” bakugou’s voice is like honey running through your ears as it muffles your logical thought, his touch his particular as if his fingertips know just where to squeeze and pull at your flesh— kneading you just right, sending tingles of pleasure right up to your brain and happy hormones into your bloodstream. “so tense sweets, what’s got’cha so worked up, hm?”

by now, your blood blisters and lustfully tremors just underneath your skin, one that makes your jaw go slack and makes it harder to fight to keep your eyes open. you hear the faint click of the bottle cap in the distance, katsuki humming to himself patiently as he heats up more lavender oil between his palms and forces them into the base of your spine. he doesn’t push you for an answer, he’s too cruel for that— the blonde takes pleasure in watching you squirm and rack your brain for words just as he does in seeing you feel good.

you fist the sheets between shaky fingers, an adorable and pathetic sight to your boyfriend. he likes how you tremble underneath his magic hands, letting him lather you up and see stars in such a sensual way. you even shine like one too. “c’mon sweetness,” he coos, grabbing a healthy hold of your ass and squeezing it in his grip. “i know there’s somethin’ you wanna ask for.”

“k-katsuki, please!” you heave brokenly, like you want more of him. like you need more of him.

“alright sweetness, calm down. i gotcha,” and that’s all it takes, katsuki leaning forward to kiss behind your ear— his sweltering chest pressed against your sticky lubed up back before he peels off of your body and settles behind you, his hands steady on the fat of your hips. “arch yer back f’me baby, you know how i like it. that’s right, such a good girl, hah? c’mon…ass in the air, fuck.” katsuki would be lying if he said seeing your slicked ass and equally slick pussy on display for him didn’t affect him, make his cock twitch in his boxers as he pulled your ass cheeks apart and watched strings of your arousal break between them. he’d be a fucking liar if that wasn’t true, but tonight isn’t about him or about getting his dick wet.

it’s all about you.

three fingers press against your soaked slit, katsuki instantaneously rubbing slow circles against your clit and groaning at the raunchy squelching sounds that drip from between your pussy lips. “look at that, yer s’fuckin’ wet,” he moans, voice barely above a whisper. “such a nice, wet fuckin’ pussy beneath my fingers…let’s get one inside ya, huh?” you can’t help the loud, almost pornographic, whine that escapes you when two of those fingers slips past your fluttering entrance— curling against your sopping walls to find that spot that makes you lose your fucking mind.

bakugou massages your insides like a man moulding a work of art from clay— fingertips drifting along all of your pleasure spots that only serve to make you babble brainlessly and clench down on him tight. “you like that, sweetness? when i finger fuck this pretty lil’ cunt, stroke these walls…uh-huh,” he’s relentless, scissoring his digits and thumbing at your clit until you’re a mess that’s chasing after every shot of ecstasy he gives you. you squeak when katsuki spits down on you, moving faster and faster as he watches the bubbly and frothy mix disappear into your tight little hole. “sloppy…sloppy fuckin’ girl,” he says breathlessly, as if he’s in a trance. “droolin’ all over my hand, my fuckin’ god.”

his words make you twitch, have your juices running into the seat of his palm and down your quivering thighs in clear streams. a symphony of nasty squelches and salacious moans intertwine with the lavender scent in the air— only tainted by the smell of sex and the nectar oozing in fat droplets from your pussy. “oh fuck, katsuki…s’so much…it’s so good,” you grunt, though your words are muffled by the pillow in your mouth. you can’t get enough of what he gives you, fucking you deep and stretching your puckered little hole with thick fingers, hot fingers. you can’t help but throw your ass back on him, rut against the digits that fill you up like they’re bakugou’s cock, playing with your insides until you think you’ve seen the pearly gates. “fuck me, f-fuck!”

“yeah i know baby, jus’ keep gettin’ my fingers wet…keep rockin’ those hips, i’ll make you cum,” bakugou laughs softly, endearingly not daring to tear his eyes away from how your cunt sucks him in so selfishly. “pussy feels so good, baby. love havin’ you like this. oh fuck,” he moans as if it’s his cock snug against your rippling walls, as if you’re riding his dick to hell and back— creaming all over it and choking the life out of him. it just goes to show how important your pleasure is to your boyfriend, how getting you off is more than enough to satisfy him, especially when he has to hold you up— stop you from collapsing each time his blunt finger tips graze your g-spot.

tears begin to sting at your eyes, your breath short and the room spinning— you’re sticky and hot and the knot deep within your lower tummy threatens to unravel with your orgasm. “k-kats! ‘m…’m close! i-i wanna—!”

“you wanna cum? make a mess on my fuckin’ fingers like the slutty lil girl you are?” bakugou taunts but drops his head until he’s eye level with your swollen, sopping mound— you sniffle in response, shaking your hips back onto his fingers that keep you plugged full while his warm breath coasts over your throbbing clit. “lemme take care of it baby, lemme be good t’you…” the blonde’s words are lost on you and before you can register it, his molten lava mouth latches onto the pretty pearl tucked between your raw and ravaged pussy lips. “have t’taste you…”

his words are licked into the length of your slit, weak whimpers laid out on katsuki’s tongue just from the mere taste of your sweetness spreading over it. “o-oh baby, taste so fuckin’ good, look so pretty when i suck on this swollen fuckin’ clit,” he coos…sounding like he’s on the verge of begging for more of you. for you to paint his face with your nectar, for you to drown him in your juices. when his fingers pull back from your greedy little hole, his tongue runs eager laps over your sex, the tip of the pink muscle writing his name against your clit while his desperate moans rise in octave—growing higher than your own.

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quitesins · 4 months

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Boxer! Bakugou x Sports Journalist! Reader

Masterlist

Tags: Sfw, drabble, aged up bakugou, boxer! bkg, sports journalist! reader, female reader, ooc bakugou? Maybe? Dialogue heavy, I’ve had this in my drafts since feb, idk anything about boxing btw

“They say you’re a prodigy, Mr. Bakugou but do you think you can keep up with those who’ve been fighting for years?”

Bakugou Katsuki, The Dynamight.

It’s testy to ask a question like that. You’ve watched his other interviews- he’s volatile, quick to anger. So you’re surprised when he looks you over, and smirks.

“You doubtin’ me?” There’s amusement in his voice. He thinks you’re nervous, he’s already disregarded you as a threat.

“No.” You sit up a little straighter. “But you have been uncharacteristically quiet about your training recently. One can only assume why.”

Bakugou lets out a bark of laughter, it’s not one you haven’t heard before but it’s still rare, feeling almost exclusive to the journalists he really doesn’t respect.

“And you’re suspecting it’s because I have nothing to show? Hah!”

You have to force your eyebrows back up, your lips to still curve.

“If not, what else? Aren’t you a little too confident” You pause. “Izuku Midoriya is also force to beat, but even he isn’t so cocksure.”

The crowd around you hushes. No one dares mentions that name. Bakugou grits his teeth, while you smile with yours prettily. It’s a low blow, bringing up his rival, but you’re not here to play nice either.

Bakugou takes a second, then replies. “That nerd would tremble over a baby.” His arm comes out to rest on the seat beside him, and he leans back casually. “His progress has nothing to do with me. I know my skill. I don’t need to be worried.”

It ticks you off how quick he is at regaining the upper hand, like confidence runs through his veins.

Though he looks unperturbed, his team ushers another journalist to the mic, and you have to step back at last. But even as you sink back into the crowd, head lowered, scribbling away at your notes, a pair of red eyes follow you, with intensity you’d be glad not to notice.

You’re waiting in the cold, under a darkening sky, just outside the hall, when a warmth emerges on your left side. It’s him. The Dynamight. And you jump back startled.

He stands there, clearly entertained by the fact you hadn’t noticed him and then by little gasp when you do.

“Mr Bakugou.” You’re curt, not particularly interested in getting into an argument, expecting that was what he was here for.

“Bakugou’s fine.” His shoulder nudges yours, for a second you think it’s a threat, but the foreign softness of his voice makes you realise otherwise. He’s trying to be… friendly? For what reason, it’s beyond you.

“Bakugou.” You don’t open up, but you don’t shy away either. He seems to take that as a win. “Shouldn’t you be inside, I’m sure everyone is clamouring for your attention.”

He snorts, it’s similar to his laugh during the interviews, but this time you can tell it isn’t taunting. You feel a bit guilty for assuming it had come with malice earlier.

“You’re not one bit scared of me are ya?”

“Should I be?”

Maybe he genuinely enjoys the back and fourth, because he really laughs at that. “Nah, you’d probably write a hit piece on me.”

“I- What?” When his words sink in you fluster at his claim. “No I wouldn’t? What?!”

“I read that article you did on Dabi.” Bakugou raises- without accusation. “The fucker deserved it.”

“It wasn’t like that!” It wasnt. It’s not your fault the famous boxer Dabi— Touya Todoroki had turned out to be former world champion, Endeavour’s son. You weren’t trying to expose any nepotism. It just happened to be. “It’s my job!!”

For a moment, Bakugou thinks you look like a scolded child, trying to defend yourself from the heinous allegation of stealing from the cookie jar.

“Relax. I know.” Bakugou nudges your shoulder again. “It’s why I want you to come interview my gym.”

“What?”

“My gym, Jeanist, Red, the whole lot.” He lists. “I don’t trust any other extra to do it. Either suck ups or fuckin’ liars.”

“And you think I’d be the inbetween?” You eye him warily, you don’t trust his trust.

“Yeah.” He ignores your skepticism. “Plus, it’d be nice to have a pretty girl around for a change.”

Now that’s what gets you speechless. Despite the increasing attempts of gossip mags trying to speculate about the annoyingly handsome Dynamight’s love life, he’d never actually been caught in a dating scandal. Honestly it seemed like the man was far too focussed on himself to have interest in anyone at all.

“That shut you up, huh?”

You’re actually glad he teases, because it reminds you not to fall for whatever charm he’d conjured up. You give him a frown but somewhere in your chest, it feels oddly warm.

“Think about it.” He steps back. “I’ll tell you now, best fuckin’ article you’ll ever write.” He nods over to a car you hadn’t noticed pull up.

It’s your cab, and it’s mildly embarrassing to realise how concentrated you’d been on him. He goes to take his leave and you turn to enter the car. Neither of you say goodbye, you just look away with faint smiles on your faces.

I had the beginning of dis just floating about in ma drafts since feb, finally added to it so why not post, also yes this is a call to watch Ippo. Miyata my beloved…

#bakugou imagine #bakugou imagines #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #quite shorts #quitesins bkg

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lady-lauren · 2 years

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Pairing: Pro-Hero!Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Stuckage, slight dubcon, praise kink, degradation, light spanking, thigh fucking, spitting (on the pussy), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

Word Count: 4k

A/N: I’ve wanted to write stuckage for so long, and who better with than Katsuki? For those who don’t know, stuckage just means one of the characters literally gets stuck and fucked lol in this case, it’s reader.

It’s a normal patrol night. Humid summer air sticks to sweaty, sweet smelling skin, makes Katuski’s hands itch in his gloves. In and out of alleys, checking lingering shadows and avoiding the gazes of pedestrians.

By midnight, he’s bored.

There are no alarms ringing on his phone, no idiot villains skirting around corners for him to chase. Wide awake and ansty, he slips down another alley, kicking a few trash bags before checking in a dumpster. He half-way wishes there was a body inside, just something to pique his interest.

“H-hey! Hey down there!” a feminine voice echoes off the brick walls of the apartment buildings, riding the heatwaves and sinking into the pavement.

Katsuki squints as he looks up, nose wrinkling at the thought of some fangirl yelling down at him from her bedroom.

Then, he sees you. You’re halfway out your window, three stories up.

He has to move around a bit to really get a good look at you, the rusted metal railings of the fire escape to your building blocking his view.

“What the fuck do you want?”

His tone is biting, like a dog snarling in warning to keep away.

“I need help! I- fuck,” you sound exhasperated, like you’ve been struggling, “My cat was on the fire escape—”

“Listen, I don’t chase after fucking cats! I’m a Pro-Hero, I have better shit to do.”

Though, at the moment, he truly doesn’t. But he most definitely doesn’t feel like manhandling some feisty cat on the streets.

“Oh my god,” he hears you mumble from above, head dropping as your hands press back on your window sill, “The cat’s fine! I’m the one who needs help. I’m…I’m stuck!”

Great. Some stupid damsel in distress. It’s a Saturday night, you should have better shit to do than worrying about your cat. You’re young, from what he can tell, probably in your mid-twenties like he is. You should be out partying, sucking cock and drinking too much.

“Fine! I’m coming up.”

With long leaps, he scales the fire escape easily, noticing how the other windows in this building either have their blinds closed or the lights are snuffed out. Your little window is glowing, though, warm yellow lamplight guiding his way to where you’re hanging.

His heavy boots on the steel make you shiver, your frayed nerves making you easily spooked. You raise your head the best you can, neck craning to look up at him.

“Oh. You’re Dynamight, right?”

He grits his teeth, sucking in a growl of frustration that you hadn’t recognized him earlier. His face is plastered on billboards, he’s the posterboy for Calvin Klein in magazines. You should know who he is just from one glance.

Purposely ignoring you, Katsuki crouches down to your level, making sure not to knock your stupid little head with his gauntlets as he starts to lift up on the window. He grunts as it doesn’t budge.

“It’s locked from the inside. Please don’t bust my lock, my landlord will fucking kill me,” you take in a deep breath, coughing a bit from where your lungs are trapped, “and the maintenance guy won’t fix it for a week.”

“Jesus fucking christ, then what do you want me to do? Push you back in?”

“Do you think that will work?”

Katsuki rebalances on his toes, staying low so he can actually take a look at your situation.

The heavy window has fallen onto your back, just below your shoulder blades. It fell at just the right angle to click the lock back in place, the simple turn mechanism taunting him from behind the glass. Your arms and tits are dangling on the outside, ass up inside your apartment. You’re in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, embroidered with some quirkless university logo.

“How long have you been like this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, like, half an hour? My fingers are going numb.”

You’re not even bothering to raise your head up to speak, just talking down through the galvanized steel gratings. Your hair is a mess from your struggling.

He’d be a shitty hero if he left you like this. From up here, you’re tempting. He can see the curve of your ass, pink thong peeking out from the hem of your shirt.

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Is your apartment unlocked?”

“No. I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t leave my door open when I live alone.” You’re getting frustrated, groaning as you try to shift yourself again, ass wiggling and knuckles turning color as you press against the window sill and try to shove yourself back inside. “However, the guy in the apartment l-lobby has keys to all the apartments. Tell him you need the one to 3-A.”

“And you think he’s just gonna give it to me, sweetheart?”

You finally raise your head and look up at him, brows furrowed but your pretty eyes are teary. Your lips are inches away from his clothed cock, he could easily pry your mouth open and—

“You’re a hero, aren’t you? I’m sure he’ll give you the fucking key for a girl in need.”

Katsuki doesn’t bother to bite back his grumblings, muttering about how fucking stupid you are and how he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit as he descends the fire escape.

Like you said, the lobby attendant doesn’t bat an eyelash when Katsuki asks for the key to your apartment.

In fact, the guy stares at the orange and black of Katsuki’s chest, grinning as he looks up and asks for an autograph. Katsuki feels like grabbing the guy’s stupid head and bashing it into the counter. But he obliges, taking a few extra seconds to scribble his name onto an empty sign-in sheet.

“Thanks man! You got a date with that girl in 3-A? She’s a real cute one.”

“Shut up.”

On his journey up the stairs, Katsuki finds himself agreeing with the man. This could be worse, he could be helping some old hag stuck in her window, trapped in her curlers and nightgown. Instead, it’s some adorable little college girl who just might give him a special treat for saving her. That thought makes him smirk and hold on to the little metal key just a bit tighter.

When Katsuki pries open your apartment door, you are truly a sight to behold.

The window is behind your couch, one with soft cushions that your knees are sinking into. Gravity is working against you, making you lean down and out the window, your beautiful ass high and completely exposed as your shirt peels away from your waist.

The light pink thong does nothing to cover you, the fabric tight against the folds of your pussy between your legs. Katsuki slams the door shut just to watch you jump, legs spreading from the jolt.

Katsuki takes a moment just to look around your apartment, that nosy nature buried in everyone rearing its head. You’re definitely a student, bookshelves full of textbooks, notebooks, and whatever else you’ve been assigned to waste your time on. There are a few plants scattered around the one bedroom apartment, posters on the wall, a few framed pictures of your friends.

And the offender who started your predicament sits on the kitchen counter, swishing her tail as Katsuki makes a face. The cat doesn’t budge, just sits and stares with judgment.

“Alright, princess,” he wolf-whistles as he comes closer, flexing his fingers in his gloves, “you really got yourself into a fucking mess.”

You mumble outside the window, but he doesn’t catch it, mind on a single track as he stands right behind you. Closer now, he can see that your panties are wet, dampness making the cotton nearly see-through.

Hooking his index finger underneath the elastic of your thong, he snaps the fabric against your hip just because he can.

Your whole body jumps, a very audible moan sounding from outside.

“Oh, you like that?”

He laughs and repeats his action, taking the time to smooth his finger along the line of your thong before tugging and snapping the flimsy thing harder than before.

He knows this is wrong, the dronings of his hero ethics course ringing in his ears about how a hero should never take advantage of a civilian like this. But he’s a man, a dreadfully bored one with a ripe, round ass just under his fingertips.

Katsuki places one palm on each ass cheek, kneading the supple flesh and spreading them apart. His gauntlets clink as he does, reminding him that he’s a hero, that he’s so much stronger than your little body can probably handle.

“Hey!” One of your legs kicks back at him, missing entirely, “you can fuck me after you get me out of this god damn window!”

“Why wait? You’re already in such a perfect position.”

Katsuki’s grin is wild as he crouches down, becoming eye level with your pussy. Using his gloved thumbs, he spreads your cheeks apart, eyes gleaming as he watches your outer folds suck in your panties.

He feels so powerful, more than normal.

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now and you could do nothing to stop him. He could fuck you for hours, use you like a cocksleeve, dump his cum deep in your guts and still leave you stuck and hanging out of your window. And he just might.

Outside, you whine, a high-pitched tune filtering through the open space of the window. You sound so pitiful, so lost.

“Come on, princess, let’s have some fucking fun.”

He shows his teeth in delight as he draws the fabric of your panties into his fist, using it like reins to keep you in place. You cry out as the cloth digs into your pussy, hot against your clit, dragging along your puckered hole. Your thighs quiver, pressing together to try to relieve the heat he’s creating. He imagines shoving his cock between the fat of your thighs, feeling your soft skin close around him and tug.

“You’re such a stupid little thing, getting stuck like this.”

Your head nods out the window, which makes him chuckle. At least you know you’re a fucking idiot.

His cock is so hard it hurts, leaking tip confined by the tight compress of his boxer briefs.

Red eyes glaze over as he starts shedding some of his gear. His obnoxiously large gauntlets go first, bouncing and clinking on your sofa, followed by his gloves. Then his fingers are quick on his belt, his black cargo pants falling to his knees and draping over his boots.

Katsuki wastes no time pumping his shaft, hissing with relief as his thumb rubs his weeping head.

He peels your panties off slowly, watching how your wetness sticks to the fabric, slick drooling just from the tiniest bit of teasing.

“Such a fucking slut, all wet from a stranger pulling on your fucking panties.”

He gives your ass a quick swat, watching your flesh jiggle. You gasp loudly, lurching forward but not budging in the tight constraint of the window’s edge.

Katsuki spreads your labia with his index finger, playing in the wet heat. You shiver with every touch, hips bucking when the pad of his finger toys with your swollen clit.

“I like how sensitive you are, princess.”

You moan so sweetly at his praise, and he makes a mental note to give you more. But it’s hard not to demean you when you’re like this, all spread open and whimpering for a stranger, stuck in the stupidest position. If you have any of those book smarts to you, he’s about to fuck you dumb.

Your slick is hot against his cock as he rubs his wet fingers against his length. He can’t help himself, his cock aches, his lower stomach pulling tighter than sailor’s knots.

Moving his hips, Katsuki slides his length across your folds, throwing his head back and groaning as he sinks his bare fingers into your hips. He rubs his cock along your pussy a few times, back and forth, back and forth, teasing you both as the veins of his cock throb and glide through puffy folds.

“Fuck your cunt is so hot, whatever loser boyfriend you have doesn’t fucking deserve this.”

The head of his cock brushes your clit and it makes your thighs squeeze together, your hands moving outside to grab at your swinging tits for some semblance of control.

You mumble incoherently about not having a boyfriend.

“Oh yeah? Must’ve been saving this pussy just for me then.”

He almost wants to see if you could just take him now, if he could shove his cock into your too-tight cunt and fuck you through the pain of stretching.

But he’s not that cruel, at least not yet.

Katsuki manhandles you up higher, balancing your knees on the back of your couch so your thighs become the perfect height for his cock.

Still coated in slick, his thick cockhead pops easily into the fat of your pressed thighs, length sliding in afterward. He repeats the motion, drawing his cock all the way out from between your legs, then slowly burrowing his red-hot flushed cock back in.

Your pussy flutters at his ministrations, tight hole sucking around nothing.

“Oh poor baby wants something in her pussy, doesn’t she?”

Sucking in his cheeks, Katsuki gathers spit in his mouth before letting it drip from his lips and down onto your cunt. The clear spit coats your folds, gets lost in the mix of your slick.

He could stare at your cunt all fucking day. It’s sexy, unique, spreads for him so easily.

His fingers are quick, purposeful. His index finger prods you, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. You try to clamp your legs shut at the onslaught of pleasure, but his hand is more durable than you expected.

His fingers are long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that has you shaking and panting. Two of them push inside of you, gummy walls sucking around him. He isn’t gentle. Each move of his hand is a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine and bliss turning hot under your skin.

Cock thumping, Katsuki begins to rock his hips, fucking into your thighs as he shoves his fingers into your cunt.

You’re mewling outside the glass, like a cat in heat out in the alley. The sounds are raunchy, mesmerizing.

Your slick is dripping against his fingers, each squelching push of his hand has you pressing farther into him. His cock is nestled perfectly between your thighs and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulates him just as much.

“Love your fat fucking thighs,” he growls and slaps your ass with his free hand, grinning as your little body struggles to keep up with the onslaught of pleasures.

You are gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath the weight of the window on your back before your inevitable fall into delirium.

“Dyna—Dynamiiight,” if anyone was awake right now, they’d hear your moans echoing down the bricks of your building.

You cum hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slump down, knees dropping and thighs spasming around his cock. Your cunt is aching, cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cry out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes.

“Fuck your pussy gets tight when you cum, holy shit,” your hole pops with suction when he pulls his knuckles out of you.

You’re panting, exhausted and so sore from dangling out of your window, but he doesn’t care.

“I want you to scream like a little whore when I fuck you,” he spanks you to get your attention and pull you away from the aftershocks of orgasm, “you hear me out there?”

As Katsuki pumps his cock, smearing your wetness from his balls to his slit, he realizes he doesn’t even know your name.

Leaning forward, he bangs on the hazy glass with his fist to ensure he gets your attention.

“Hey! What’s your fucking name?”

Your body is limp, your hands now pressed down against the grates of the fire escape and blood rushing to your pretty head. Red eyes stare out the window until he sees a little nod. You raise your head to him, lips swollen from being pressed together, eyes glassy.

You look so fucking hot, all spent and messy just from what he’s doing to you.

You sputter out your name the best you can, gasping for air before rocking your hips back again, begging for his cock.

He shoves himself ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves at the same time the tense squeeze of your insides make him lose control. You scream, mouth hanging open against the humid air as his cock spears into your insides. The pain quickly morphs into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that has moans spilling from your mouth even as you try to stop them.

There is no exit. No escape.

Just heavy breaths and the slapping of skin, wet flesh wrapped snugly around an intrusive cock.

Your body bounces back against him, ass rippling as his muscular thighs barrel into the backs of yours. You’re like a little fuck toy, pliant and soft, pussy gushing and sucking around his thickness.

Katsuki calls out your name just to hear you whine, grinning as he cups his hands around your waist and pulls you back with every quick thrust.

He likes having you like this, vulnerable, unable to move or even see what he’s about to do to you. Circling his thumb over your asshole, he does it just to hear your moans change pitch as you overthink, worrying he’s about to shove the thick digit into you. It’s tempting, but he’s far too focused on how your cunt feels.

Stuffed, he’s sure you feel so fucking stuffed, your puffy lips are dragging along his length with every push and pull, no room left in your guts every time he forces himself inside.

Cardinal eyes are glued to the color of your folds spreading around his cock, a thick cream pooling around his base, getting trapped in his coarse curls and staining his balls.

“You fucking love this, don’t you? Love having a stranger fuck you dumb.”

He doesn’t give a fuck that you can’t really respond; he’s losing his edge, his tongue becoming looser the more he races towards his climax.

“Knew I was gonna fuck you the moment I saw this pretty ass through the window,” he spanks you again, hard and fast, your cunt cinching tighter upon the moment of impact, “stupid little girl, needing to be fucking saved by a big strong,” he grunts, sweat dripping down from his hairline, “hero.”

Curses paint your lips each time his cock stretches you again, and again, and again, as the angle you’re trapped in has his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you with every fresh plunge.

“Oh you feel so fucking good squeezing me like that. So fucking good.”

The praise makes you louder, makes one of your neighbors bang on the wall to shut you up.

“You’re such a good girl for letting me fuck you like this, giving me your tight little cunt.”

Slick is drooling down your thighs, making every thrust a wet squish of flesh on flesh. You smell like sex, like sweat and salt, like some sweet fruit being peeled open just for him to taste.

“Need you to cum,” he groans, thinking about how your pussy grabbed hold of his fingers during orgasm, “want you to milk this fucking cock. Gonna cream in your cunt.”

He shouldn’t be so reckless. He should spray his seed on your back, he knows that, but your cunt is sucking him in so tightly that he wants to feel his cum rush your insides. Consequences be damned. He’ll breed you if he fucking wants to.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” that’s all he hears, like a lost bird chirping outside the window, all breathy and airy as you try to contain yourself.

Your orgasm is more intense than before. Katsuki practically feels your whole body go numb, limp, the gasp of a silent scream against foggy glass as every part of you trembles.

The seams of sanity split apart for Katsuki as his balls tighten and that first gush of cum bursts against your gummy walls.

He doesn’t stop, not even as he comes undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting down onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He is unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again.

Just because he can. Because you can do nothing about it except drag your nails along steel and squeeze your cunt.

Finally, the hormones stop humming, and Katsuki’s empty balls have grown sore from grinding against your abused clit. He lets your hips drop, his still-hard cock springing out from your insides.

Cum flicks onto his face from the bounce of his dick. He wipes his cheek with sweaty hands, chuckling as he places his palms on the window and catches his breath.

“You alright out there, princess?”

You babble something, give him a little whine.

Shit, he probably went too hard on you.

Quickly, Katsuki clicks the lock and lifts the window, and you rush to take a deep breath into your lungs.

“Holy fucking shit.”

You’re slipping out the window from the loss of stability. He grabs your shirt, nearly ripping the threads as he tugs you back inside your apartment. You tumble into his broad chest, panting and sweaty.

“Seriously, you okay?”

Katsuki is uncaring as he knocks his gear off the couch, metal clanging. He lays you back against the cushions, hands petting at your hair.

He grimaces when he notices a solid line of indentation across your abdomen, just below your bunched shirt. Where the window had you in its grasp will be tender tomorrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just…trying to catch my breath.”

Unable to help himself, Katsuki flicks your shirt up, hungry eyes roaming your tits.

“Fucking greedy aren’t you?” You swat at his hand with a giggle.

He keeps his curious eyes on your hard nipples before letting them wander down, finding your swollen folds still leaking cum.

“You can really take a beating.”

He means it as a compliment.

Sitting up, you groan, stretching your back and rubbing at your sore spots.

“Maybe I should’ve gone to hero school instead, let myself be a paid punching bag.”

Katsuki scoffs, moving back so he can tuck himself into his pants and start to reassemble his gear. His phone is buzzing in his pocket, a notification about a break-in just a few streets away that shitty hair is going to go cover.

“I gotta get back to work. Give me your number.” He tosses his phone before you have a chance to react, the lock screen open as it bounces on your lap.

“What, so you can come save me again next time I’m stuck?”

Katsuki is serious when he looks at you, tightening the orange straps on his chest.

“So we can do this again sometime. Or, I dunno, I can take you on a fucking date if you want.”

You laugh and shrug, typing your name and number into his contacts.

“I’m off work tomorrow if you want to swing by, Dynamight.”

“Call me Katsuki, alright? And yeah, I’ll be by.”

You stand as he finishes making himself presentable, grenade gauntlets clicking back into place on his forearms. He grabs his phone from you and immediately texts you his name.

“Kiss me before you go?”

Your lashes are fluttering up at him, eyes sincere.

“God damn I did this all ass-backwards, didn’t I?” He scolds himself out loud, blowing hot air through his nose.

“You could’ve fucked me and left me,” you giggle, “next time we can catch up on everything we missed.”

He nods curtly, grabbing your face a bit too rough so he can crash his lips against yours. He’s brutal to prove a point, that he wants to kiss you, wants to do more than just take advantage of you. You respond in kind, nails scraping at his chest as you moan against him.

His phone rings again and he pulls away, sweaty palm musing through his hair as he stalks toward your front door.

“Tomorrow.”

He states it as a matter-of-fact. Tomorrow he will be back. Tomorrow he will fuck you again.

The summer air is more suffocating as he returns back to the streets, still resituating his costume and pulling at the crotch of his pants.

You’re fucking insane for letting him fuck you like that, but he’s worse for doing it.

Guilt builds on his shoulders as he stalks toward where he’s needed, only being relieved when he receives a text with your name on it.

1:45 a.m.: photo message

It’s a picture of your cunt, spread open by your fingers on your shitty little sofa. His cum still stains your folds, white is still dribbling out of your little hole.

He stops walking, stares down into the blue light of his screen as his mouth goes dry.

1:46 a.m.: photo message

Now it’s your tits, on full display below your shirt that you have pulled up between your teeth.

1:46 a.m.: I want your cock between them. Tomorrow.

Big thumbs type furiously, his brows locked together.

1:47 a.m.: You’re a fucking freak.

And so is he.

#bakugou smut #katsuki smut #tw:dubcon #tw:stuckage #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha smut #bnha bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou #bakugou fanfic #katsuki fanfic #stuckage smut

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hitoshiyoshi · 2 years

Text

stuck | bakugou katsuki

synopsis ↬ bakugou hates when nerds are better than him OR you get stuck in a closet but bakugou doesn’t feel like helping

warnings ↬ stuckage/kabeshiri, dub/non-con, college au, non-con picture taking, soft bully bakugou(?), bakugou doesn't act like a bully in the beginning but he does later on, the reader's favorite class is biology, the reader is a nerd, i'm sorry if i offend any nerds, the way you get stuck is kinda poorly written and i'm sorry, do not read if you don’t like being in tight spaces, or-l (receiving), f-ngering (receiving), bakugou calls you a lot of names (not nice names), slut-shaming, objectification, swearing, reader is wearing a skirt, leashes (brief), if you get confused at how I describe the scene just look at the header image, let me know if i've missed anything

pairings ↬ agedup!bully!bakugou katsuki x fem!nerdy!reader

word count ↬ 3.7k

Carefully carrying your biology class's materials, you strode along the partially empty halls to your destination. Professor Kayama, your biology instructor, asked if you could return them to a storage room in preparation for her next class. Being an exemplary student, you happily agreed — not minding the heavy load of fragile items. You held a large plastic tub of different materials she neatly stacked before handing them to you. Your slow-paced walk seemed to agitate some of your fellow classmates trying to hurry to their next activity, yet you didn't mind.

Entering the large storage area, you place the materials that manage to fit inside your arms on the floor. The room was quite large, filled with all assortments of items used in her class. All of which, you could name without even needing to try. Sticking your nose in science textbooks all day certainly paid off. The chatter of a loud group of students just outside the closed door seemed to distract you from your thoughts, just briefly.

You tried to unlock a door leading to a walk-in closet area, except it seemed to be jammed. This was a usual reoccurrence; Professor Kayama would always complain about the door, saying that it always gave her problems and that bringing this to your university for a fix would amount to nothing. She said, "they're too busy with less important things, i'll teach you how to fix it," and so she did.

It was a sliding door, the type that never swung open for "safety reasons". You tightly grasped the handle, pulling the door in the opposite direction while pressing all your strength against it. Finally, the door seemed to magically become smooth on its hinges and glided open with ease. Professor Kayama warned you never to suddenly push against the door with too much force at once as it would make the gears loose and jam it once again. So far, you've managed to survive the faulty door and any mishaps but you knew that you would eventually encounter some problems.

You pick up the plastic tub and enter the room, quickly arranging each object in its correct location. Of course, this wasn't your only duty for the day; Professor Kayama requested that you also tidy any materials that seemed out of place as she needed to leave campus early.

Again, you didn't mind. In fact, you seemed to enjoy knowing that you were her most-trusted pupil. The favorite of the class and the clear spark for envy from the other students. Always scoring the highest out of everyone in your class. Seated in the front during her lectures with your pen and paper ready to take notes while most students couldn't focus or snoozed off in the middle of class. You were the role model for them all to follow, and yet they could never match your pace.

Of course, with all of this attention, you attracted one jealous follower. A boy in your class with a name you were too busy to remember. It started with a "B", that was the only part you decided to memorize. You weren't interested in trying to become 'buddies' with people you wouldn't see again in four years. He always sat at the back of the lecture hall, too enamored with his friends to pay attention. You could vividly recall during one class hearing the obnoxious laughter of a friend he affectionately called, "dunce-face". The cacophony of their voices disrupted the entire lesson, irritating both you and Professor Kayama. You only noticed him because of his performance after every exam, project, and quiz.

The blonde would always try to outperform you. Yet, for the first time in his life, you made him experience failure.

Always coming in a distant second place to you; a sharp contrast to his perfect scores in every other class he took, passing them all with flying colors. You couldn't fathom how he did so well in a class he seemed to show no interest in.

His group of friends certainly weren't the brightest. The annoying one in your class failed nearly every test he took. While the rest weren't focused, instead finding ways to get a freshman's number so they could get their dicks wet. You concluded that he simply cheated on his exams. You were wrong. The notes for all his classes were extensive and thorough. He did whatever he could to ensure his throne was at the top of every class; the only thing more unbearable than last place was second.

His attempt at going above you only led to more shortcomings. Studying all night for a quiz that he ended up sleeping through was unfortunate, but he could get over it. Until he learned that you received another perfect score. Professor Kayama felt bad for him, she couldn't do much except arrange a tutoring session with you as his instructor. He didn't need her pity. He didn't need your pity.

You weren't elated with Professor Kayama's request for you to tutor him, yet you couldn't reject your favorite teacher. You approached him after class a few months ago, plastering your biggest and brightest fake smile. Waving your hand, a little too cheerful and innocent for his liking, and uttering words that made his hatred for you stronger: "I know this class is difficult, so would you like my help? I'm always free if you have any questions, we can be study partners! So, what do you say?"

God, your sweet tooth-rotting voice made him nauseous. You had to be faking it; that professor was watching over you like a hawk. You didn't know how humiliating it was for him. He had so much he wanted to say; resentful sentiments that would leave you beneath him with tears streaming out of your puffy eyes. The perfect view.

As you stood in front of him with your hand outstretched and waiting for his acceptance, his rage surged. You watched as his blood rushed to his reddening cheeks and ears, somewhat intimidated by his strange reaction. Infuriated with your weak attempt at challenging him, the blonde kissed his teeth and stormed out of the classroom. His gaze lingered on you for months following that interaction.

Until his deep ruby eyes caught you entering the storage room, running errands like a mule for your professors.

"Oi, Bakugou!" Yelled his red-haired friend standing across him in the hallway, "Are you listening?" Upon seeing the blonde nod, he continued. "So, you comin' to Mina's party?"

"Yeah, yeah... whatever," He said while running his fingers over the scruff of his neck. Kirishima named a list of girls attending like an elementary student reciting the alphabet, he's surprised he remembers each one. Momo, Uraraka, Yui... He recognized some, they were his frequent calls whenever he needed a quick fuck.

"—that girl in our english class," Kirishima peers up, trying to think once again before a lightbulb flickers in his head. "Denki tried with the smart girl in bio... fuck, I forgot her name... (Y/N) or something like that..."

"Who..?" He wasn't even sure why he bothered asking when he heard correctly the first time.

"That nerdy chick, always at the front in class,"

"Oh,"

"Yeah, but he said she's frigid... said no to his face before he could convince her. Too bad, she sounds like my type," Kirishima snickers under his breath as the blonde stays still.

By now, you've finished cleaning up most of the equipment and returned each of them to their assigned locations. Despite all of your years around fragile science materials, you seem to forget some essential points about safety. You can hear the familiar sound of heavy footsteps outside the closed door. Where have you heard them before? You only peeked away for a second; unfortunately, one second is enough time for an accident to happen.

Hitting your shin on the leg of a nearby desk before tripping over your feet, you fall on your knees and tummy — landing in the cramped walkway with the top half of your body inside the closet. You didn't have enough time to register the shockwave of pain through your legs. The closet's sliding door barrels down and pins you by the waist. Locking your body in place and wedging you right against the door frame. Fuck, it sounded like a cliché from a video on the Hub, which made it more embarrassing.

You try to move and twist your waist but to no avail. You reach your nearest hand to the door and push, yet it 'conveniently' seems jammed in place. For what feels like an eternity, you try desperately to move your body in any way that you can. You make some progress by managing to kneel on the hard tiles, yet the pain from falling prevents you from standing upright. Maybe you sprained something? You don't know, but you need to get out of here fast.

The last thing you want is to be a burden, but in reality, you should be concerned with someone thinking you're an idiot for falling like this. With few choices, you decide to call for help, "help..! somebody..! please, i need help!"

You should have been suspicious when you heard the sound of the front door opening. A minute hadn't even passed. It closes softly, and the faint sound of the lock fills the empty air. Asking if someone was there only led to more silence. The ground trembles like some desks have moved out of the way; obviously, someone was inside.

"Oh gosh, thank you..! I'm so clumsy, I don't know how this happened..." You continue rambling on, thinking they're clearing away to make space and rescue you. When they don't respond, you crane your neck behind only to see the disgruntled blonde — whose name you can't bother remembering — standing over you through the gap in the closet door. "Oh, it's you. Sorry, I don't know your name..."

"Doesn't fuckin' matter," Yet, he seems to grimace at your unnecessary comment. He menacingly looms over your body, making you too anxious and scared to look away.

"S- Sorry if I'm being a burden, but as you can see—" You say while trying to wiggle and show that you can't move but unintentionally show off your bum. "—I'm a little stuck, can you help me?"

"Why should I?" He says with an unwavering expression. He's dead serious. Piercing down at you beneath him while bubbling with excitement, he's won the jackpot.

"Uh... well, I'm hurt really bad. I can't get up on my own," That's unfortunate.

The whole situation was simply comical; he wanted to burst out laughing so bad, so that's what he did. His resounding yet obnoxious voice traveled through every wall of the room. This had to be a joke. There was no way that you of all the people he knew could end up in a situation like this. His cheeky grin only left you confused, clutching his belly as if he'd been injured.

"I know this might seem funny to you, but it's not. Please don't laugh..."

"But it is," He said, finally calming down and catching his breath. "I'm finding it hard to believe the teacher's pet could end up like this. Don’t tell me you’re a dumbass,"

"If you won't help me, will you just find someone else?" You turn your head around, letting your guard down for a moment. When will you learn to stop doing that?

"Why? Don't like me?" The feeling of his foot pushing into your lower back startles you. You aren't given much time to react before it's forcefully arched lower into an uncomfortable position, giving him a full view of your ass.

"H- Hey..! Cut that out..!" Your skirt rides up your thighs, exposing your cotton panties to his mischievous eyes. Greedy hands feel up your soft bum before giving it a tap.

"Wish I could help, but I don't feel like it," He says after finishing his touches. Staring off into the distance, acting as if he'd been genuinely contemplating whether or not to aid you.

"What..?" He eases his foot off your back and chooses to squat behind you. His hands caress your hips before lifting your skirt upwards, exposing your clothed heat.

"Sorry, love, you just look so pretty beneath me," He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your panties, chuckling to himself once he sees you struggle in his hands. Completely unfazed. "It's Bakugou... Katsuki, my name,"

Bakugou. Bakugou.

The surname rings a bell, it sounds so familiar. How could you forget? Your meager interactions with him flood back in your mind, but it's too late to remedy and make amends.

Tugging your panties past your cheeks, Bakugou left you uncovered as his hands freely roamed. He cupped each mound of flesh in his hands, spreading them apart and watching your folds glisten. His thumb runs along your labia, making your body shudder at the foreign sensation. Trying to ask him questions proved pointless; instead, the blonde whispered under his breath about you being desperate “like a bitch in heat”. Partially in disbelief at the sight of your slick as you rubbed your thighs together; you're really enjoying this, aren't you?

Circling his fingers over your clit and massaging your nub, your teeth sink into your lip to hold back moans. His fingers are skilled, he's done this plenty of times with other girls in the past. Yet, the way that he touches hints that he wants to go slow. Take his time and enjoy it as if you were his first. Smirking at your glistening heat as if to prove to his corrupted mind that his actions were justified.

To him, you were a conquest. The trophy on his display case that would become the envy of all his friends.

"W- Wait... Please don't—... do that..!" You want to sound strong, yet your voice is in the same sweet intonation.

Bakugou doesn't take you seriously, not when constant mewls float out of your lips and into his ears. Instead, saying he'll stop when he's finished in a tone that causes your heart to race with panic. You feel something warm and icky suddenly touching your heat; using his thumb, he spreads it across your folds while mumbling about "getting you ready". You don't even bother asking, succumbing to his lustful desires.

Maybe this is all he'll do. Feel you up and then help you when he's done, right?

You couldn't be more wrong.

His flat tongue takes a slow lap at your warmth as your hips wiggle again in his hold. Using both hands, Bakugou pins you still by your waist and lower back — holding you tight until you can't struggle. His grip is too strong, fingernails scratching into your skin. You don't stand a chance. He forces your back to arch more, releasing a hum of approval at your compliance. Kirishima said you were frigid, but now you've got him second-guessing.

His tongue darts across your clit with ease; gliding over your sensitive bud as your walls flutter. Teasing your sex just right, only taking Bakugou a few minutes to guess the spots that would drive you insane. The same insanity he was plagued with whenever he was around your presence. You tried using your legs to kick at the blonde, toes curling in your shoes. He swears into your pussy in frustration, why can't you just stay still? The vibration of his voice sends a wave of pleasure through as you moan in response, "nngh... d- don't i... i can't...ahh~"

One of your kicks nearly strikes him in the chest with full force. Your last attempt at fleeing once an intense pain surges through your leg. He simply finds it humorous again, the thought of you overpowering him. Bakugou moves one of his hands to your leg, pinning it to the tile flooring. Still determined, he continues his assault on your now swollen clit. Attached to your pussy and coaxing out your clear essence onto his tongue. Savoring your taste on his tongue, moving his head downwards, and giving you one final kiss on your clit.

You wince, feeling his thick middle finger sink inside your sopping entrance. Bakugou's thumb extends over the hood of your clit, soon covering both fingers in slick. Peaking through the gap, he sees your figure, biting on your fingers but failing to hide your whimpers — he can't wait to get out of this stuffy room — praying that you cum soon so he can see your face of pure bliss afterward.

Kirishima always said he preferred inexperienced girls. Always seemed to get attached easily with a few words of affection. Made good fucks for a quickie; send them a teddy bear, say you're sorry if you hurt them, and they'll be at your beck and call.

The familiar high pitch in your voice is something he hears too often, fully knowing what happens next. "don't tell me you're gonna cum already, love?" He taunts while his finger curls over another spot that sends a loud moan through the room. Bakugou's thumb presses deeper against your clit, smirking at your frequent pulsating walls.

"N- No..! I'm not...!"

"Hm, you're not? You're drippin' down here babe. Squeezin' me too. Was hoping you'd save some for my cock instead." His... what? You twist around, trying to stop him by reaching out but he grabs your hand instead. Stopping you from turning around and inspecting you like his newest toy, he says, "Ah, that's the pretty face I missed,"

Another digit enters you with ease, quivering against him and sucking him further with every graze against your g-spot. The familiar pooling of warmth below your stomach was hard to ignore. "should've known you were a slut when I saw your cute little pussy, only dumb sluts get wet like that," The boost of confidence he received once feeling your spasming walls was immense, clenching around him with every degrading word.

He slows, but not to a complete stop. "kats!—..." you whine in frustration, quickly pressing your lips together afterward. It surprises you as much as it does him. Not understanding why, after all this time, you wanted him more than ever. He edged you closer and closer, his fingertips kissing your cervix.

"Beg me," He said, yet you fought your lips to stay still, not wanting to embarrass yourself further. "Ah, teacher's pet thinks she's better than me, huh?" Bakugou's heavy hand suddenly connected with your bum, making you yelp at the stinging pain, "You know, I've got all day..."

"Please," You said weakly. Not good enough.

"C'mon, you can do better. Don't you wanna cum on my fingers..?" He spoke in a condescending tone, caressing the spot on your ass where he hit.

Fuck it, your head was far too gone. "please, katsu— i need... i wanna cum so bad..." Close, but not yet.

"Can't hear you, babe," His hand moves to tap against your clit, making you shudder with every hit. "Be a good little bitch for me, speak up..."

"Fu—Fuck... Katsu... please make me cum..! Need you... bad, lemme cum on your fingers— please..!

He smirked to himself, not entirely pleased but you'll learn — you're such an obedient student. Continuing with his pace, his thumb rolled across your swollen sex as the blonde watched expectantly. Making you unwind with every curl of his fingers until finally, a wave of pleasure rode over your body. Cum gushed from your entrance and onto Bakugou's fingers as he massaged your spot. Quickly finding himself mesmerized by your trembling thighs and sounds of ecstasy.

Eagerly removing his fingers once you've calmed, helping you ride out your orgasm before licking them clean. He moved to your dripping cunt, happily lapping at whatever sticky essence overflowed until his lips and chin shined under the overhead lights. As you pant and quiver, he gives you some encouraging pats on your bum.

He stands, and you hear the jingle of his belt before seeing his shadow move closer to you. Pushing his brawny arms through the gap, he loops the leather belt around your neck before fastening it. Bakugou gives an experimental tug and forces the strap upwards. The loop is loose enough for you to breathe but tight enough to leave indents.

He uses his strength to push the slider door open; it moves with ease. The old pesky thing was barely jammed, you probably could’ve gotten up on your own if you tried hard enough. Bakugou stares down as you try to move despite your aches and pains. “dummy doesn’t know basic physics, could’ve opened it yourself, bitch,”

Ignoring him, you try to stand but the blonde grasps the strap of his belt and tugs your body downward — making you fall straight on your knees again. Your body has become numb to the pain; when he presses his foot against your back again, you don’t even flinch. Bakugou kisses his teeth, annoyed that you're still whimpering. His belt is too short to stand, so he squats in front of you.

As you try to find comfort by caressing your aches, he pinches one of your cheeks harshly — forcing you to stare up at him, all teary-eyed and disheveled. The quick flash of his smartphone camera blinds your eyes, flashing white before fading.

"What did you do..?" You ask, but he doesn't need to answer. Instead, Bakugou moves his phone away from your face. "Please don't show that to your friends..."

It should've made him guilty. Hearing your desperate voice with puppy eyes begging him. But it only reminded him why he hated you so much, so weak and fragile yet somehow above him.

"Don't fuckin' look at me like that... I won't," No matter how much of an ass he wanted to be, he could never do that.

You're his personal conquest, the trophy, and the envy of all his friends. Knowing you, you'll probably take your 'goody-two shoes' ass and run to that professor you're close with or someone else he doesn't know. You can't run away yet, he wants to have more fun. Maybe fuck your brains out til' his name is the only thing your dumb ass can remember.

Bakugou stands and decides to bring his phone out once again, this time recording.

"I won't tell a soul, so put on your prettiest face... just for me,"

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trueshellz · 1 year

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Completely self-indulgent, I'm learning (and failing) to learn how to swim at the moment and I didn't realise how terrified I was of it until we went to the deep end today.

"Katsuki, I can't."

Your hands gripped his biceps, fingers digging into the corded muscles as he waded you both into the swimming pool. It was early evening and there was a faint lilac and pink hue as the sun started setting. His hair was laying flat on his head, the water dripping rivulets down his face to the small grin he was adorning.

"I gotcha, don't worry."

"But... it's too deep."

"You love it."

He snorted, shaking his head a little and it took you a few seconds before the meaning came to you and you lightly smacked the planes of his chest.

"Oh, shush."

You could feel your face heating as he moved you both to the middle of the pool, the edge and flat ground seemed to far away. Despite his strong hands holding your waist, your legs moving in time with his, you knew without a doubt if he let go you would sink like the Titanic.

"Don't let go. I mean, it Katsuki. Not even for a second."

Taking a deep breath as he used one arm to pull you closer, his arm banded around your waist close to him as the other held your jaw gently. Your hand resting on his shoulders, fingers in the darkened locks at the base of his neck as his forehead met yours in a gentle tap, crimson eyes meeting yours fondly.

"You trust me?" You nodded, of course you did. "Then trust me."

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dashielldeveron · 2 years

Text

soulmate trope | bakugou

Bakugou’s route of soulmate trope.

His chapter follows the most standard soulmate rules, so that's why he's first. From here on out, it gets more unhinged.

Warnings: lots of talkin’ ‘bout dicks.

~6k words. Female reader.

Of course you weren’t going to share your soulmate identification with anyone else. It’s right next to your vagina, where your thigh meets your labia. You wouldn’t’ve noticed it yourself if you hadn’t been contorting yourself in the dorm shower stall to shave.

You saw the mark and panicked, going for the mundane instead of the supernatural—what if you had a cancerous mole? But it was way too large for that; you probably would’ve noticed it sooner, if it were a mole, and besides, it was very clearly…shaped.

So, it wasn’t a name or any words but a shape. Some symbol. Hunched over in the steam of the bathroom, you couldn’t fucking tell what it was supposed to be. It occurred to you once you got back to your dorm room that you might be looking at it from the wrong perspective and that the dark shape might be discernible if it were, like, upside-down.

One horrible mirror-camera-flashlight session later, you think you got the right angle. After deleting all of the mistakes and putting the correct one in a hidden file on your phone, you lay in bed, holding your phone above your face and squinting into its light.

This was dumb. This was so dumb.

Because it was either 1) an emanata, a.k.a. those bubbled sound effects in comics such as bam or pow, but the mark was small, spiky (like a punch sound effect?), and solid black. Or it was 2) a very prickly flame.

Both options were, uh. Not ideal.

If it were a comic book emanata, then your first thought would be that guy from 3-B with the onomatopoeia quirk, Manga Fukidashi. He was already matched, though. It also vaguely reminded you of Tetsutetsu’s mask, but that was a stretch.

If it were fire, well. That left Bakugou and Todoroki, both of whom without soulmates accounted for.

If either of them is your soulmate, would he have the same symbol? Would it be in the same place on his body? You couldn’t exactly go up to Bakugou or Todoroki to say, “Hey, any cancerous-looking blotches appear near your cock lately?” God.

And what if you didn’t have all of the details? What if there were more to the soulmate mark than just a tattoo? Can he tell when you’re thinking about him? Can he read your mind?

Well, you grumbled to yourself, plopping back inside your desk for your next class, you couldn’t read anyone’s mind, so if he could, it’s majorly unfair. You slumped in your seat, leaning lazily on your elbow, and scanned the classroom for both of them.

Todoroki already sat at the back of the class, copying something out of a book quietly. He might very well be your soulmate, because whoever hasn’t claimed him yet is an idiot. Todoroki’s a catch—kind, observant, dead clever, extremely talented, not to mention the tiniest bit socially dense—all very nice, non-threatening things in a man, or at least in Todoroki.

The thing, though, is that he wore his uniform correctly, down to the number of buttons buttoned up his shirt. No excess skin was showing, so if he shared a mark, it, too, was somewhere he didn’t display for the general public. Promising, but it still didn’t mean much, especially since his hero costume covered up the same areas.

Cringing, you got out your notebook for class. Yes, it’d be effective to ask him to take off various articles of clothing, but you can’t fucking do that. And in the far-flung situation where you get Todoroki to play strip poker, you’d probably lose.

Startled, you knocked your pencil case off your desk when the classroom door slammed open, the quiet of the classroom shattered by the Bakusquad barging in. Over Bakugou’s bitching about the sparring matches before lunch, Kirishima and Sero were trying to calm him down, Mina and Kaminari talking loudly behind them about what they were doing after class this afternoon.

Bakugou shoved off his friends with a growl and slid into his desk, his legs spread out in front of him with dirt flecking off his shoes. “Just fuckin’ shut up; I had it. It’s no use telling me what damn special move Ida was trying to pull. If he hadn’t caught me like that, I would’ve scorched him.” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking soot from it lightly.

Sero held up his hand. “You’ve got to admit that it was a really good move to—”

“Stop talkin’ to me,” said Bakugou, digging through his backpack, “I won’t be able to concentrate if you keep running your trap.”

“Fine, fine.”

Pros of Bakugou being your soulmate:

1) You’d get to be close with an astonishingly complicated and closed-off person, who was intriguing in his own way, clever when he needed to be, driven, determined to do a thing correctly, and, moreover, capable of nearly anything he set his mind to.

2) Pretty boy. Prettyyyyyy

Cons:

1) He’s mean even to his friends. You understood playful teasing, but Bakugou went a bit too far. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.

2) He’d always be too honest with you and hurt your feelings.

3) He didn’t want a soulmate. He’d said that a soulmate would hold him back, that he’d prefer not to have one. Which means he’d reject you.

But really, you considered as you zoned out for the lesson, would you be holding him back, like he’d said? True, your quirk wasn’t as powerful as his, but that didn’t mean that it was worthless. In fact, you considered your quirk pretty damn useful, but you could see how someone like Bakugou could think you’re weak.

If Bakugou didn’t want a soulmate, then he didn’t want a soulmate. But that didn’t stop you from wanting one.

So, it’s simple: you find out what kind of soulmate identifier Bakugou has, toss him once you discover he’s not, and then you move on to Todoroki.

***

“Hey, can I see your cock for non-sexual purposes? It may turn into sexual purposes, but I assure you, the initial look would be purely out of curiosity.” You cracked, smiling wearily at your reflection. More bullshit things you can’t just say to Bakugou. You couldn’t even say it with a straight face.

The more you’ve seen your classmates match up, the more parallels there have been with soulmate identifiers. If Bakugou’s got your mark, it’s totally near his cock.

Not that you don’t want to see it, because while Bakugou was a whiny little bitch, he’s also excessively, annoyingly handsome, now that you thought about it. You weren’t stupid; you’d noticed his perfect skin (guaranteed because of his quirk), sharp eyes, and nice tits, but now that there was the possibility of you having access to him, his appearance was growing on you.

The sound of an explosion shook the glass. “Try that again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

His personality still left a lot to be desired.

In a stroke of luck (but rather just partner rotation), you were assigned that day in hero training to spar with him. You hyped yourself up in the girls’ locker room, not bothering to participate in the gossip but instead planning your own strategy for the fight. It’s been a while since he’s fought you, since you usually have to cycle through the rest of your classmates, but this time, your goal was to—you felt like a damn pervert for even considering it—to tear his costume in some way. See what that modest bitch was hiding. You could pass it off as a different technique in fighting, or something.

When you walked into the training area in your hero costume, Bakugou was already warming up, stretching despite his heavy gauntlets, and his grin that was more of an excited scowl cut across his face.

“C’mon, you damn punk,” he said when you approached him, “Took you long enough. How long’s it take you to get ready to be smeared across the floor?”

“Oh?” you said calmly, like a calm person, like you weren’t about to trip to rip off the clothes of someone who might not even been your soulmate, “Just as long as it takes to cultivate those three brain cells you’ve got rolling about in your head.”

What the fuck, dude; where’d that even come from?

Hissing, Bakugou reached for a grenade on his belt. “You’re gonna be dead before class gets out—”

While Bakugou and you sparred, you zoned out on the muscle memory of your quirk’s special moves, instead thinking about his dick. Since your mark was on the left, his would probably be on the left and probably not directly on his cock itself, which was probably good. The soulmate mark was a bit ugly and amorphous, to be honest, and you were betting—now that you were paying attention to the bulging, sweaty biceps (trying to get you in a chokehold), the tensing and relaxing of the tendons in his calves and thighs, his longer-fingered, calloused hands (letting an explosion go off in your ear)—that his cock would be as infuriatingly pretty as the rest of him. It was practically framed for your perusal, the way it was surrounded by straps on his belt and pants, the straps cutting into the fabric so that the curve of his cock protruded just slightly more than it normally would. Relaxed, but noticeable. And you were noticing.

On the receiving end of an aerial explosion, you let out a grunt as you hit the floor, and Bakugou landed right next to you, squatting while holding down your chest with one hand splayed across your collarbone. His warm hand felt nice on your skin.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” he spat, pulling back his mask to get his sweaty hair out of his eyes, “Why aren’t you fighting back? You think I can’t take it? Me?”

You blinked. “I was fighting back—”

“Not like you normally do. Where’s your stealth slide? Where’s your two-step jump? You’re not pullin’ your best moves,” said Bakugou, grinding his teeth, “and it’s really pissin’ me off. You think I’m stupid?”

Panting, you grinned. “I know you’re stupid.”

Huffing, he clamped his free hand around your neck and squeezed the sides. “Try again, you fuck.”

You rolled your eyes. “What makes you think I’m not—fuck, loosen up a little—not trying my best?”

He released his grip on your neck, but he kept his hand there. “You haven’t landed a single blow on me this whole time.” He wrinkled his nose. “You usually get one or two in before I kick your ass.”

“Haven’t I?”

“Thought you’d know.”

You shook your head. “I wasn’t paying atten—”

“I knew it.” Bakugou let go of you and sat back on his heels, disgusted. “You’re a big waste of time if you’re not gonna fight me at your best. Neither of us is getting any better if you don’t value every opportunity to train.”

Your gaze flickered to his crotch for a moment, but it returned very deliberately to his face. “Who says I’m not?”

You seized him by the grenade and attempted to flip him; it was mostly successful, and you ripped the back of his shirt in the process. For the split second he was face down, your hungry eyes took in the patch of skin exposed on his lower back—muscled and pretty but unfortunately bare.

Bakugou, his chest heaving, snapped his head back to glare at you, his jackal-teethed grin growing even wider. “I dare you to try that again.”

***

Though it pained you, you took to studying in the common rooms. You couldn’t concentrate with everyone’s clamouring or trying to talk to you. You ultimately brought down material you already knew, so it didn’t matter if you were interrupted.

“No, no, Jirou, it’s fine,” you said, pen in your mouth as you unzipped your backpack, “I have extra.”

Ducking from a miniature bag of popcorn tossed over the couch towards Kouda, you riffled around for some notebook paper. Jirou was grabbing it from you as the tall, dorm door swept open, letting in hot, humid air into the cool commons.

With Kirishima jogging up behind him, Bakugou stormed into the dorm, post-workout, sweating, pressing his icy water bottle to his cheek and rolling it down under his chin and to his neck as he passed you: black tank top, black sweats.

Modest bitch.

Consistent bitch.

Nothing new, even though it was great to see his biceps every time. But since he’s been consistent with what he’s been wearing, you haven’t been seeing any new skin, since you’ve started camping out. It’s not just going to happen; you’re going to have to make your own opportunities.

Jirou tugged the paper from your hands and shot you a curious look, and you laughed it off.

God, you cringed to yourself. You have to be careful, lest you get a reputation for being a creep. How to go about this delicately?

***

You stood with your laundry basket on your hip, meagrely filled with stuff that looked dirty at a glance, staring into the whirling window of a school dryer. The zippers knocked against the metal insides, the only flash in the heap of black clothing. Must be his dark load. He seems like he’d care about that.

It’s the only dryer going at the moment, since it’s early Saturday, but there were two washers going, the hum louder for reverberating off the basement walls.

You’re going to do it. You’re going to steal Bakugou’s laundry.

You glanced at the bleach in your own basket. Maybe it would be better to simply ruin his clothes, since it’d be hard to sneak away with a whole load of clothes up multiple sets of stairs. But that’d be mean, and you would eventually return his clothes, just after a while.

Crouching on the reflective tile, you sighed, resting your elbows on your knees. This was dumb. This was too dumb. You couldn’t do it. You wanted to kill everyone who’s taken your clothes, so Bakugou would want to murder you anyway. Todoroki, though—he probably wouldn’t notice if you took anything. You wished you were onto him already, instead of agonising over this idiotic—

You jolted at someone’s clomping down the stairs—in flip flops, by the sound of it. The grumbling under his breath stopped once Bakugou rounded the corner and saw you, pushing on your knees to stand, and he arched a brow.

“What, you’re so bored you don’t have anything better to do than to watch clothes spin?” He slams a basket full of lights (you caught a flash of an All Might logo from his silver age) onto the top of an unused washer. “I’ve got some series you should watch, then.”

Big sigh. Bakugou covered himself up more than usual—his white t-shirt cuffed nicely at his upper arms, but no new skin for you to peruse. Sweats again, too. Comfortable bitch. Dress like a slut, you coward.

“I’m not watching laundry,” you said, moving towards an unused washer yourself, “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Maybe you’re going about this the wrong way. Maybe if you slip something into his laundry—say, a tiny little pair of slutty shorts—then he might wear those.

“Yeah? Can’t be anything worse than your little fuck-up in class, can it? Little Miss Place-bo,” he said, nudging you with his elbow between the shoulder blades.

You swore under your breath. “Listen! Anyone can make that mistake!” You threw up your hands and turned to him. “Anyone can pronounce—pronounce, uh.”

Your mouth hung open as Bakugou grabbed his shirt by the back of the neck and yanked it over his head, the light cotton fabric catching on his hair. In the precious moments before he could make eye contact with you, you greedily drank in his lower abdomen—defined way beyond toned—this man is fucking ripped, hard lines outlining his muscles—especially those glorious lines forming a v and trailing into his sweats (c’mon, c’mon, make a move to pants him right now; you can pass if off as an accident; do it—)

“Forget how to pronounce it again?” Bakugou made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle as he tossed his shirt into the washer, along with a detergent pod. His abs flinched at the cold of the metal when he leant into the washer, and you had a hard time dragging your eyes away. “Plah-see-bo,” Bakugou said in English, his voice teasing.

You swallowed drily and made yourself look at his face. “Yeah? Bite me, Bakugou. We can’t all be perfect all the time—”

“Strange invitation,” said Bakugou, but he snatched your hand off your own detergent bottle, and he held it in front of his mouth for a moment, pausing for your reaction.

Your mild surprise morphed into terror when the expected, albeit out of character, kiss to the back of your hand did not happen, and instead he bared his teeth, his tongue running over the sharp points before clamping them together. He took the pad of your ring finger into his mouth, and though he made motions to chomp down quite violently, the bite itself was delicate. Gentle.

It took his tongue swiping over your finger for you to remember to jerk your hand away, and he rolled his eyes, letting out another scoff-laugh, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest (Your own eyes fell to them, bulging a little. Seeing Bakugou’s tits won’t solve the soulmate problem, but by God, did it make you feel alive).

“Hey, don’t freak out. You’re the one who said to bite you.”

Feeling your face heat, you turned to your own laundry. “Does figurative language mean nothing to you?”

Bakugou shrugged and stretched his arms over his head (a quick check of the armpits—no soulmate mark). When you were this close, you could see the light tan freckles around his scars.

***

Okay, if the embarrassing thing also happened to you, then you clearly couldn’t be the culprit. Therefore, when you and Bakugou both took a late-night shower, both of your clothes would go missing.

For your part, you simply left the pyjamas you’d be changing into in your dorm room and simply brought a towel that would cover you well.

Sneaking into the boys’ bathroom and stealing Bakugou’s clothes while he’s in the shower was another story.

Step one: set up your stuff in the girls’ bathroom, but don’t get wet yourself. Dripping water on the bathroom tile would give away that someone had been there.

Two: when Bakugou has just put soap in his hand (and therefore starting a new task, not paying attention to outside the shower), take his clothes from the little stool outside the stall curtain.

Three: skibble back to your shower to get wet, as if you’ve been in the shower all along.

Four: Do all of the above in an instant, since Bakugou takes aggressive but short showers.

Five: wait for the shouting.

Step one accomplished, you’ve wrapped yourself in your biggest towel, cosy and firmly situated not to fall, and as stealthily as you could in your shower shoes, you sneaked down the hallway and into the boys’ bathroom.

The water hissed onto tile in the farthest stall from the door (great, cool, fabulous), and Bakugou’s voice—fucking humming some song popular a few years ago—floated through the steam.

Tiptoeing in flip-flops doesn’t work too well. There’s a moment where you squeaked and winced, listening for a sign of acknowledgment, but it never came. You couldn’t take your time, because he could shut off the water at any moment, but you couldn’t just flippity flop all the way—oh, stop thinking. Just do it.

Within arm’s reach of the wooden stool in front of Bakugou’s shower, the scent of his shampoo wafted towards you, mixing with the steam—man, that apple shampoo was useless, since nitroglycerine smelt like caramel—oh. Oh, that’s cute of him. Caramel-apple-autumn-basic-bitch.

He’s still humming as you stretched for his pyjamas—your wide eyes pinned to his silhouette through the nasty school curtain—good God, if you just ripped open the curtain, you could see everything—but then 1) you’d be labelled a pervert forever and 2) if he is your soulmate, it’s not a very romantic way to find out. Still. The shadow of his ass had a curve that wouldn’t quit.

Okay, okay, stop gawking. Grab the clothes, yes, and sneak away—quietly, quietly. Don’t shower shoes your way out.

Hold up.

Rushing into the girls’ bathroom, it occurred to you that your plan hadn’t included something to do with his clothes.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Um, you can’t just hide them in your stall, because he might come investigate in here, too—oh, uh. Oh, God.

Through the pipes overhead, you heard the water shut off for the boys’ bathroom.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you said, kicking open a bathroom stall and peering into the toilet, “Oh, God—no, I can’t—” Grimacing, you dashed out, tripped on your towel, and stumbled to the trash can. “Forgive me, Bakugou,” you said under your breath, and you hid his pyjamas underneath some paper towels.

You flicked on a sink to hold your head under the water, getting your hair and shoulders wet enough to look convincing, hopefully.

Now for the show.

Looking nervous, you peered into the hallway between the bathrooms, and you tentatively took a tiny step into it, your hair dripping onto the carpet.

The door to the boys’ bathroom slammed open, despite the time of night, and Bakugou strode out with his shower basket, looking grim but no worse than usual, with—with a—

You’re going to pass out. You’re going to pass out and drop dead. You’re pretty sure Bakugou could hear the nyoom as you stared at his—for fuck’s sake, he’s wrapped what’s got to be, like, a hair towel around his waist, barely skimming the top of his thighs.

A man’s got legs.

The thin, white towel covers him enough to be modest, but holy shit, his cock basically doesn’t matter when his legs are like that: thick, powerful thighs, sturdy, muscular, and would splay your legs far apart if you straddled one of them, and calves with definition that comes from running regularly for sport. Mother of God, get this man some booty shorts. He would win every fight immediately.

Oh, he’s said something. You shook yourself. “Sorry, what was that?”

Bakugou grunted. “Didn’t expect to see anyone up this late. I must have forgotten my clothes, so.” He scratched the back of his neck and jerked his head to the side.

Your eye twitched as a bead of water ran from his nipple and down the side of his ribcage.

“Left?” Oh, you hadn’t considered that he might blame himself. Do you bring up that someone might have stolen yours, since he doesn’t suspect? What do you do? “Uh, looks like we’re in the same boat,” you said, tugging your towel up, despite it still covering everything.

Wait, maybe you can flash him, and he’ll make the soulmate connection—

“You should be asleep,” said Bakugou, turning towards the stairs, leaving wet footprints behind him, “It’s not healthy to be up this late. You need to take care of yourself.” He glanced over his shoulder at you. “You can take the elevator.”

You blinked. “Oh, uh. Thank you. You get some sleep, too.”

Clearing his throat, Bakugou shrugged it off. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

***

Bakugou won’t go swimming with the rest of the class. He won’t re-design his costume. Your theoretically accidental spills never hit him. You ended up with nothing but some unvarnished lust, unrequited affection, and coffee to clean up from the floor.

You’ve decided: one more day, and then you’re moving on to Todoroki. This soulmate search shouldn’t take this long.

Todoroki would be easier to love than this overly determined, stubborn-ass perfectionist who holds everyone else to the same high standards. God knows you don’t live up to Bakugou’s standards, so it’s good that this is the last day. He probably wouldn’t want you, anyway.

So, in this last, cloudy day of allowing yourself to like Bakugou, you shirked your own work to sit on the side of the gym with a book as a flimsy excuse to watch Bakugou do one-armed push-ups, his scowl growing deeper with each bead of sweat that dropped to the mat.

The gym slowly cleared out the further into the evening it got, and when Sero waved his goodbye to Bakugou, he’d spat out a response as stormy as the rain that pelted the gym roof. Huffing, he shot a glare towards you, and you snapped your book upright, not seeing the words.

It’s just the two of you in the gym, almost closing time, with Bakugou left in charge to close up with the thunderstorm raging outside.

You wanted to squeeze your heart to a pulp. He knows. He’s got to.

When the power flickered out at a particularly harsh thundercrack, Bakugou didn’t even react. Turning on the flashlight on your phone, you trotted over, stepping over some weights, to shine your light on his backpack as he ferreted everything away.

He grunted as he swung the strap over his shoulder, and without so much as a glance back towards you, he trudged to the gym door. He held it open for you, grimacing at the rainfall, and you slipped underneath his arm.

As the electronic door clicks shut behind the both of you, the rain picked up, striking the pavement like swords into sod. Squinting up at the sky, Bakugou shifted more closely to you underneath the tiny awning outside the door.

“I shouldn’t run through this shit,” said Bakugou, shifting his backpack to his front, “I’ve got my term paper in here.” He eased himself down onto the cramped bench, scooting the edge of it under the awning so that you’d both be able to sit. “You, you’d get so fucking soaked you wouldn’t be able to lift your feet, and then I’d have to cover your ass.”

So.

The two of you couldn’t get back inside, due to the power outage and electronic lock, and your phone was on its last dregs; he didn’t carry his around. You found yourself sitting less than the width of your hand away from someone who might be—oh, who are you kidding? This idiot isn’t your soulmate. So, it didn’t matter if you ruined it.

“Hey,” you said, and when he didn’t respond, you spoke more loudly, over the rain, “Hey, uh, Bakugou. Are you doing well?”

He shot you a look out of the corner of his eye and didn’t even bother to answer, simply crossing his arms across his broad chest. As if catching himself, he uncrossed his arms again and rested one on the bench between you.

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair.” You shifted in your seat away from his hand, because you didn’t want to take up room that Bakugou wanted; it’d make him hate you even more. C’mon, this is the last time you’re going to have Bakugou as a captive audience, and then you can avoid him for the rest of your sorry life.

C’mon. Open your mouth and say it.

(“I need to see your dick?”)

You can do this.

(“Take out your rascally ol’ penis so that I can see your soulmark, you cuddly bastard.”)

Bakugou cleared his throat so gruffly it practically blended in with the thunder. “What are you reading?” He nodded towards your book, leaning over your lap to see the cover.

Oh. You tilted it his way, lightning flashing on the glossy letters. “It’s a social history that came out two months ago; it more or less triangulates the connections between hero marketability, social media, and romantic relationships. Midoriya leant it to me; it’s not exactly a thriller, but it’s informative.”

(“Cock now!”)

Bakugou seized the book from your grasp, hunching lazily on his hand between the two of you. “God, this looks miserable,” he said, thumbing through it, holding it away from the rain dripping off the awning, “Cynical and cold to even think about it. Why are you wastin’ your time over hero romantic marketability? Does that matter to you?”

God, he was taking up more and more space on the bench. You kept scooting away from his hand, which he had lifted from the cast iron to flex his fingers before returning to its spot, but now that the arm rest of the bench was pressing into your thigh, you couldn’t go any farther. Bakugou is a big guy, sure, but does he need a whole bench? “Um—no, not really, but, but it might affect—someone’s career in the future, and—I don’t wanna mess that up for him.”

You took the book back from him and clutched it to your chest, retreating as much as you could to the end of the wet bench without it cutting into your skin or getting into the rain. You were wincing, scrunching up your face and flinching away from him, closing your eyes so that you wouldn’t see whatever foul expression he’d have for you. Bakugou tugged on the book in your hands, but you gripped onto it more tightly, hunching in on yourself.

Ask him now. Ask him now, and you can bolt if he tries to kill you. He won’t follow you into the rain because of his term paper.

You can do it.

Oh, God, you can’t do this—

“Goddamnit,” said Bakugou, fumbling for the book, “Are you gonna let me hold your hand, or—”

“Please let me see your cock!” you shouted a bit too loudly, shielding your face with your face with your hands, and the book dropped from your lap to the wet pavement.

The rain bombarded the awning uninterrupted for a few painful seconds.

Peeking through your fingers, you watched Bakugou, his brow furrowed, pick up your book from the awning’s dripline, and he gently shook water off of it before wiping the cover on his sweats.

“Well,” he said at last, “if that’s the reaction I get when I try to hold your hand, I can only imagine what’ll happen when you let me kiss you.”

“No, no—forget I said anything. Forget everything I’ve ever done. Forget me. I’m,” you said, spluttering as you stood, “I’m leaving.”

“Stop.” Bakugou didn’t even have to grab you by the hand to stop you; all he did was graze the inside of your wrist. “Sit back down. Very good. Good girl. Tell me why you need to see my cock,” he said way too seriously, stretching his muscular arm behind you on the bench.

How is it fair that Bakugou was so calm while you were freaking out? Steeling yourself, you made yourself make eye contact, trying to be as serious as he was. “Bakugou, I think we may be soulmates.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “And that correlates with my dick how?”

Bakugou won’t even have to kill you after this. You’ll do it yourself. “I need to see if you have a soulmark there. Well, not technically your cock but more like the area around it—”

“You think we’re soulmates because of soulmate marks,” said Bakugou flatly.

“I—”

“You know what! Fine.” Bakugou threw his hands up in surrender, surprisingly placid. “If you need to see my cock to affirm we’re soulmates, I’m down. Got two conditions, though.”

You swallowed with a dry throat. “What are they?”

“One,” he said, holding up his index finger, looking smug as hell, “you’ve gotta do it kneeling.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh, uh. Okay.” This must be how Bakugou kills you. Either that, or your heart is going to burst out of your chest, with how hard it’s pounding. “I’ve, uh. Never—” You cut yourself off and moved in front of him.

“I’ll keep your book from getting wet, but I can’t guarantee the same about you, sweetheart,” said Bakugou, spreading his legs for you.

If you weren’t going to commit suicide, you’d murder him. Maybe you can fit both into your schedule. You got on your knees between his legs, shuffling a bit closer towards him than you would’ve liked to keep out of the rain. Sighing, you cautiously lifted your shaky hands to the ties on his sweats.

You paused to look up at the smug bastard. “You didn’t mention the second condition.”

His teeth glinting in a grin, Bakugou reached down to curl some of your hair behind your ear, not that it really needed it. “Afterwards, I get to punch you in the face.”

You shrank away from his thighs, trying not to let him see your jaw tremble in the flashing light. No. You’ve come this far, and if Bakugou will kill you with a punch, then that’s probably better than disembowelling yourself, or something. You’d like to see his dick before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for his sweats again. He, accommodatingly for some reason, lifted his hips for you to tug them down, but you took a moment before doing the same for his plaid boxers. You’re not going to cry out of fear and embarrassment; you’d be the girl who cried at the sight of a cock.

You glanced up at him. Bakugou glared down at you, his head tilted to the right, arms splayed across the back of the bench. He was clearly suppressing a smirk—you didn’t know why; wouldn’t be more humiliating if he laughed at you in the moment?

All right, you’re pulling down his boxers. Do it.

Closing your eyes as thunder rolled, you braced yourself and dragged down the fabric, careful to keep his bare ass from touching frigid cast iron, but it happened anyway (he hissed slightly at the cold). You froze, your hands still gripping the waistband of his boxers when they reached the mid-thigh, and you ducked your head.

“You gonna open your eyes?” His voice cut you straight to the bone. “You’re gettin’ punched for this; you might as well look.”

You were not above temptations of the flesh.

You were right: his cock lived up to the rest of his unfairly pretty-boy body, even though at this point it wasn’t even fully erect. Stupid and pretty and flushed, curving to the side just slightly with a pulsing vein (artery?) going up the same side that curved. The thick base sat amongst dark blond curls, and when you huffed in frustration, it twitched when your hot breath blew over it.

Scowling at his cock, you said, “Where’s the soulmark?”

“You’re an idiot,” said Bakugou, yanking his boxers and pants back up, and he didn’t even stand up to punch you; you hardly had time to prepare yourself properly. All you saw was his huge fist reeling back for a split second before smashing into your face.

You fell back on your ass, extremely baffled but somehow not in pain. You touched your cheeks, your mouth—nothing was broken or even aching. Bakugou had looked like he was going to slam you into the next century; why did it only feel like a tap on the cheek?

“You look confused,” said Bakugou, grinning and crossing his legs to hide the growing bulge in his sweats, “Don’t tell me you’re as stupid as you look.” He held out his hand to help you up, and he pulled you back onto the bench, this time sitting under his arm around your shoulders. “We’re soulmates, all right, but we don’t have marks. We can’t physically cause each other pain.”

You hesitantly snuggled into his pec, and he hummed when you did, so you supposed that was permission. Bakugou emanated a bunch of body heat; you should have done this when you first came out into the rain. And things were falling into place: the bite to your finger, the sparring when you couldn’t hit him…

“You’ve let me flounder?”

He tightened his grip around your shoulder. “I thought it’d be more fun for you if you figured it out yourself.”

Frowning, you gently hit his chest. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough to enjoy your terrible attempts to get me naked, sweetheart,” said Bakugou with a smile so annoyingly self-satisfied that you couldn’t look at it for long, “All you had to do was ask.”

“Oh, my God.”

With his free hand, he reached over to lace his fingers through yours. “Do you still have my pyjamas?”

You groaned into his shirt, not wanting to look him in the eye. “Yes. I was gonna wash them first, though. But wait,” you said, “I have a soulmark.”

Bakugou scoffed. “No, you don’t.”

“I do; it’s right next to—to my vagina,” you ended in a whisper, almost covered under the thunder.

“Dumbass. It was probably a bruise.” He was stroking your upper arm with two of his fingers. “It’s gotta be gone by now. Have you checked recently?”

“Uh,” you said, biting your lip and glancing away, “No. But I have pictures!”

“Show me,” he said, and he waited for you to dig out your phone, which died as soon as you pulled it up.

“I swear that it looked a bit like an explosion—”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You mean like a normal bruise?”

“I think I would know when I got a bruise there.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Fine, then where’d you get that bruise on the back of your left leg?”

“What?” You twisted your leg, pulling up your capris a bit to see the full bruise. “I don’t—I didn’t know I had one there. Shut up. Okay, it’s possible that I mistook a bruise for a soulmark.”

Bakugou shifted so that he was facing you and took both of your hands in his, playing with your fingers. “Want me to check?”

You jolted in your seat, hands tensing in his. “Ex—excuse me?”

“You don’t know if it’s a soulmark, yeah? I do, but you seem to like proof. I can look for you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—” Too flustered to speak well, you nodded at Bakugou’s encouragement, with the voice in the back of your head saying that you could easily get addicted to the tender way he’s looking at you.

“Good girl. I’ll only do it with a condition, though,” said Bakugou, getting on his knees in front of you, nudging your legs apart, “I get to do it kneeling.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou/reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fic #mha #bakugou headcanons #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #soulmates #soulmate #soulmate au #dash it all

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keulixeutin · 2 years

Text

Hard, Harder, Hardest

a/n: hi.

summary: during a hero panel, bakugou thinks about how he can’t help but orbit you and obey. bakugou x fem!reader.

cw: suggestive. 18+. no pronouns used, but fem!reader in mind while writing + mention of female anatomy; also, reader wears lots and lots of pencil skirts. bakugou pining after you and imagining the nasty. sub!bakugou and dom!reader vibes (at least, i tried anyways lmao). reader wears glasses.

word count: 2,183.

Despite the nonchalant way Bakugou was leaning back in the chair, anyone could see he was stiff and irritable: he was scowling and rigid, the curve of his back not quite following the curve of his seat.

He couldn’t help it though. He was supremely uncomfortable. He hated this shit, hated being on the stage, following some stupid itinerary, dealing with stupid activities and games to get people to see the “softer” side of him. What the hell did people need that for? Wasn’t it enough for him to do his job, protect the city, beat down the shitty villains, and be the fucking best? Number two hero or not, he didn’t sign up for this stupid celebrity shit. They could write a slew of articles complaining and criticizing him, but he hated sitting around in the spotlight.

You, his personal assistant, fucking knew this, yet you still, behind his fucking back, worked with his PR team (and that fucking Shitty Hair Hero) to accept the Hero Convention invite and add it onto his schedule (his schedule that you knew he didn’t look at because he trusted you to be good at your job)—and then to not even to tell him until ten minutes before he was supposed to get ready for it? He had been fuming.

Bakugou’s leg shook underneath the table impatiently and irritably. A woman dressed in a maid outfit with home-made Hawks wings stepped to the microphone and asked Round Cheeks about her martial arts usage in battles. The next fan, someone with blue scales scattering across their face and arms, asked a question to a sidekick three seats away whose name Bakugou didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Internally, he was pleased with this current line of questioning. As long as no one addressed him, he could sit and pass the time with an annoyed glare until this whole thing was fucking done.

But, obviously, the universe loved dashing his hopes. The next person that stepped up to the microphone was cosplaying an older version of the Dynamight costume, which was ego-boosting and cool to see, of course, but that itself wasn’t enough to make any of this entertaining or interesting.

“This question is for Dynamight,” the fan began. “What would you consider your hardest battle? Also, I’m your, um, number one fan…!”

It was an easy question.

People wanted to know battle specifics, but his hardest fight? To date? Currently?

Controlling his fucking raging hard-on whenever you with your stupid perfume and your mean laugh entered the room.

Bakugou hadn’t wanted a personal assistant. Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes stubbornly pushed their agenda onto him whenever they noticed at the beginning of the year that he had been swiftly losing control over his wildly hectic schedule. Between the patrol, the agency work, the hero work, and the unending meetings—all just the tip of the iceberg—he had been struggling to find any time for himself, personally and professionally. Despite his violent vehemence, Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes still strong-armed him by nagging him until they were red in the face and accepting applications on his behalf, narrowing it down to a set of five that he was to choose from.

He had picked you because you looked meek in your photo and you were soft-spoken in the interview; he figured that you’d run off after being on the end of his short fuse for a week straight.

But, by the end of that week, with him having just yelled about the type of tupperware his food was packed in, you had very softly and very firmly told him to watch his fucking tone, or you’d make sure that the only time he sat down for the next six months was on stage in front of an interviewer and audience with a fiercely binding contract that ensured he couldn’t skip without heavy monetary punishment.

(“I have my ex-lawyer-boyfriend wrapped around my finger,” you had said, your voice deadly calm as though you were telling him you had started a new hobby and not threatening your boss, the number two hero. “I will make sure there is so little wiggle room in that contract—every single Hero Convention from here to goddamn China will have you by the balls for the next six months in the strictest legalese. Do you understand me?”

He couldn’t lie—he was shocked into silence by how fucking hot that was, how fucking hot you were, wearing the tightest pencil skirt, shifting your metal glasses while you threatened him.

“Now eat your rice. The leeks, too, please.”)

He couldn’t explain it. Ever since then, things were—different. He was hyper aware of you, of how far away or how close you stood near him, of how you were usually in some sort of skirt; his eyes were glued to your backside, to the sneak peek of upper thigh every time you shifted in your seat, mind wandering to how it’d feel to have that thigh pressed against his neck and his face. He was suddenly obsessed with how you spoke, realizing he had mistaken your quiet for meekness, for submission. You were soft-spoken, yes, but there was a weight to your words, one that required obedience from those you were speaking to. Now he could see that your smile sometimes curled at the corners into a sneer, and that your eyes were sharp, narrowing with a finality he found himself unable to ignore.

Fuck, he was even aware of how you smelled. He often caught himself inhaling deeply as you passed by, trying to preserve the smell of your shampoo inside his chest. Whenever you leaned over to show him something on his calendar, he had to fight the urge to press his nose into your hair, to bury his face into your neck where your veins pulsed with perfume. Once, you had left your jacket at his place after a long night of explaining and rearranging the weekend itinerary to ensure nothing would be amiss while you were out of town. He had fallen asleep with his face pressed into the fabric the entire weekend, your scent lulling him into the most comfortable and serene sleep of his life.

Things got even harder when you caught on. Quick, too, two months in. The skirts got shorter; your shirts were unbuttoned enough for a heated glance of cleavage; and he frequently found you in compromising positions, bending over his table to grab something instead of walking around, or dropping things at his feet requiring you to lean over to pick up. It was hardest when you used this newfound power of yours to get him to do things he didn’t want to do—like attend interviews or take off-days. In his frustration and confusion in the early days, he had once furiously asked if you had a quirk he didn’t know about, to which you laughed wildly in your eyes but coolly said no.

“Dynamight?” The host pulled him from the memory that had began to take over Bakugou’s attention—the one where, after getting caught in a heavy downpour, you had graciously changed in front of him and cruelly wouldn’t let him touch.

Bakugou was about to respond that nothing had been hard because he was too fucking strong, but he made the mistake of glancing to you, standing off to the side with your phone against your ear. You were good enough at your job that you were able to efficiently multitask, paying attention to both the conversation on the phone and the Hero Panel. As if you could feel his intent, you gave him a hard stare, your fine eyebrow raising expectantly at him, almost daring him to put one toe out of line in this nationally broadcasted panel.

The look boiled his blood—and the heat went straight down south.

Yes, things had gotten extremely bad when you had realized your effect on him.

He was grateful for the table.

Bakugou gave an answer about a villain whose name he couldn’t remember but whose shadow soldier-producing quirk had irritated him the entire fight, and then he ended the response with a muttered thanks to the fan.

He glanced back to you, another mistake—“Good boy,” you mouthed.

Fuck. He bit back a groan.

There was a mean glint in your eye as you held his stare; it wasn’t a long one, but it was enough to create a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach; it was enough to make his heart stutter and jump. You turned away first, breaking the eye contact to finish the conversation on the phone, yet it felt like he was the one who had caved.

The rest of the panel continued with Bakugou scowling at a spot on the table or the wall behind the audience, but he participated more than he had originally decided to. He answered the questions directed at him and remarked offhandedly on other people’s answers whenever he felt like it, eliciting laughter from the fans and eye-rolls and playful arm smacks from Round Cheeks.

At the end of the panel, the heroes had twenty minutes to decompress before the meet-and-greet. Bakugou and the others were ushered off the stage and back into the make-up room to relax. After the make-up artist checked that nothing needed to be reapplied, you appeared with a phone against your ear still and a tote bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll check his calendar and get back to you,” you said. “By the end of tomorrow at the latest. He’s currently doing the Hero Panel, but if I can find a moment to check and confirm, I’ll let you know earlier.”

You paused, listening to the person on the other side. Bakugou took the moment to rake his eyes over your form. Your pencil skirt stopped inches above your ankle, but there was a slit over your left leg that traveled up—up, up, and up—to your tantalizing thigh. Your skin was creamy and smooth with lotion or oil. Whenever you shifted your weight in irritation at something that was said, the fat of your thighs rippled in a way that had his mouth watering.

“…As I said,” you continued, “Dynamight is currently occupied with the Hero Panel. If I can grab a moment, I will check with him and his calendar, but I’ll be sure to give you an answer by the end of tomorrow. Yes, of course. Yes, you, too.”

Your voice was light and polite, but dry and firm. You hung up, and then your attention was fucking finally on him.

You pulled several plastic containers out of your tote bag and set it on the table in front of him.

“Don’t scarf it all down,” you advised. “But eat a little. Regain your energy and pick up your mood so you can meet the fans.”

“Not hungry,” he grumbled, wondering if he could convince you to let him rip the slit a little higher.

“Eat the fruits at least,” you said, moving the containers around until the smallest one was on top and opened, revealing grapes and cut apples and mangos.

“You eaten yet?” he asked.

“No, but I’m fine,” you said, but you picked out a grape anyway. His eyes honed in on the way your fingers push the fruit past your plump lips.

Bakugou swallowed, neck tense, heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know when the leash had tightened so heavily.

“What?” you asked, noticing his gaze.

“Nothing.” He averted his eyes.

“Oh, I see,” you said, amused, and he found that he hated your tone and simultaneously ached for it. “You want a reward for earlier, hm?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Despite his attempt at disgruntled nonchalance, his body was obedient to your voice in a way he couldn’t physically deny or control, no matter how much he dug his nails into his palms or ground his teeth. There was always a twitch and shift in your direction; there was always a fiery red on his cheeks; there was always the need to orbit and obey.

“You don’t get anything for properly answering a question the way you’re supposed to, Katsuki,” you remarked.

“Tch. Whatever,” he grunted, suppressing the involuntary shudder at his name on your lips.

“But if you do well today”—you plucked another grape and then pressed it against his mouth—“maybe you can get a reward later.”

You slid the grape into his mouth, fingers lingering at his lips in a scandalous way that journalists would kill to capture.

His body was buzzing at your words. He couldn’t help but hoarsely ask, “What’s the reward?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” you answered, smug as if you could read his thoughts, as if you knew he was imagining you suffocating him with your cunt and thighs, as if you knew that he hadn’t been able to help himself on stage, looking to you as though he would’ve said anything to hear good boy again.

#╰【 FILED UNDER … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ novae writes 」#╰【 FILED UNDER … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ 18+ 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ reader「 no pronouns used 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ reader「 she/her 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ fandom「 bnha 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ character「 bakugou 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ titled「 hard + harder + hardest 」#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #dynamight x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha fanfic #bakugou fanfic

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dekustowel · 3 months

Text

[01: that time he fucked up]

synopsis - in light of a major controversy that causes his fan support to dwindle significantly, katsuki bakugou is forced to do anything possible to garner back the affection of his fans before the announcement of the year’s hero rankings. katsuki has two options: either "date" japan’s most-adored social media star, in hopes of her amazing reputation bringing up his, or kiss that #1 spot goodbye. it’s a no-brainer what he chooses. and it shouldn’t matter at all, right? it’s a fake relationship. nothing more, nothing less.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist | previous | next

[taglist: open]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FUN FACT: Bakugou spent the last year in America on a top secret mission, and well as you know, he’s only just gotten back this morning.

FUN FACT #2: Mina and Kirishima are married! They got married directly out of highschool, and after retiring from being pro heroes they both began running businesses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[taglist: open]

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ieuvb · 1 year

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focus , will ya? - katsuki bakugou

studying with bakugou is really relaxing , not even kidding. the room is filled with soft music that plays in the background and the only thing you could probably hear is the pen scribbling on the paper and maybe soft humming that hums along the music.

and today was no difference , since finals were coming up in 3 weeks , you and bakugou decided to study early. not an extreme study just bit by bit revising here and there. just so you can get better score than before.

you're in his dorm room , sitting on a comfy chair using his study table while he uses a coffee table while sitting on the floor with the cushion. he literally threatened you to use his table just so you could be more comfortable than he would. gosh sometimes you just want to kill him for being so sweet and loving.

"babe , can i please get help with this one." you hear footsteps approaching you. and you feel bakugou hovering over you from behind as he looks at the question. "dumbass , did you not pay attention today at all? you have so many damn questions today." you pout and whine. "i didn't sleep well last night , so i dozed off a couple of times that's all~"

"sleepyhead." he lets a quiet sigh and shakes his head. "okay so this..." he begins to explain but of course you didn't listen at all , you just stared at him , taking notes of his facial features instead of your study notes. his jawline , his soft lips , his pointy nose and his cle-

"oi! are you even listening?" his crimson eyes meet yours. "don't frown , you'll get the ugly wrinkles." you reach over his brows with your two fingers and brush over it. he then grabs your wrist and looks dead in your eyes. "did you listen?" he asked and you just shook your heads.

another reason why you should study with bakugou , he has lots of patience or maybe it's just with you? he knows that you sometimes get distracted , but he still takes his time in teaching you. this also allows him to be with you longer before you head towards your own dorm room.

"you better listen now , i'm not repeating again." he grumbles and shifts a little but still hovers over you. "kiss." he leans his head back frustration written over his forehead. "i promise i'll focus if you give me a kiss." he looks down on you and sighs. "can you please focus." he said as he leans down , gives you a kiss which was longer than you wanted.

"mhm~ you should kiss me from this position again , not only do you look hot but the kiss definitely feels more spicy." he smacks his forehead and was about curse but you interrupted. "okay okay! i'll focus."

sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes

kinda wanna go on a study date ;/

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ariisheresstuff · 1 year

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“Stay still Katsuki!” “Ow! Watch it!” “Well I will if you wouldn’t stop squirming away from me.” You were apparently trying to clean the cuts on your husband who just got back from a in call mission down at the city. Katsuki just grumbled and pouted like a five year old, he hissed when you applied peroxide on an open wound on his bicep. You sighed as you observed the blood from the cuts, “you have to be more careful Katsuki.” “I know, god damnit.” “It doesn’t seem like you know if you keep coming home bashed up.” Bakugou just sucked his teeth, “You make me worry sometimes baby.” He didn’t look up at you. You sighed softly before cupping his face with both of your smaller hands, you admired his structured face. From his crimson eyes, to his sharp jawline, all the way to his perfect nose. You gave him a smile before leaning down to peck his lips, as soon as you pulled away he leaned in to keep the kiss longer. You squealed lightly before taking in the kiss. The kiss was long and passionate, every single second was love. Katsuki was the first one to pull away, you looked into his deep red eyes. He leaned his forehead against yours, you sighed at the contact. He then searched for your hand, he brought up your left hand to his lips. He gave each knuckle a loving peck making you chuckle, “I’m sorry for scaring you, I don’t mean to but it’s my job. “I know, it’s just I worry that you won’t come home.” You looked down at the floor thinking about the worst, “Hey.” Katsuki quickly cupped your face for you to look at him, “Don’t think like that, I’m Katsuki Fucking Bakugou. Nothing will ever happen to me babe.” You giggled as you wrapped your arms around him, you sighed happily. Katsuki hid his face in your neck taking in your scent, “I love you, you know that?” You pulled back to face him, you quickly kissed him as a response. “That should answer your question.” He rolled his eyes playfully before smacking your ass making you yelp, you smacked his arm. “Even though I would love to be all lovey dovey and shit with you babe, I do have a lot of fucking cuts on me.” You giggled before grabbing more cotten balls and peroxide to continue cleaning up his wounds, “It’ll cost you extra big guy.” You winked at him making him chuckle and smirk at you, “I’m willing to pray the price princess.”

MasterList

Tag-List: @otomefan @amis-love-bugs @slasherstories123 @writeslikedream

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tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

OCTOBER 1ST. VENOM

"eyes. lungs. pancreas. so many snacks, so little time."

♱ — katsuki bakugou + monsterfucking.

♱ — synopsis; katsuki’s been a bad fiancé recently, he tries to tell himself that it’s all in his head ( literally ) and when his neglectful behaviour nearly ruins your engagement dinner — he has no choice but to make it up to you, with the help of a little symbiotic friend.

♱ — length; 5K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, mentions of eating people, monsterfucking, dry humping, tentacles, overstimulation, pussy jobs, public sex, clothed sex, oral sex ( f!receiving ), pegging ( m!receiving ), fem!reader, venom!bakugou. not beta read !

♱ — notes; waaa!! hello everyone, welcome back to kinktober!! im so happy to be participating again, i hope you all enjoy whats in store for this year. starting with this baddie !! - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

“just eat her…katsuki…”

“no, you can fuck right off.”

“why not? she is unpleasant…katsuki…its not like we like her anyways…”

for the first time that night, katsuki indulges the mangled voice in his head— listening to the symbiotic alien that sludges through his voice and his body. venom is right. he hates his mother in law, soon to be mother in law, but the practicalities of it all aren’t what matter. red eyes drift to the devil’s incarnation of a woman, traditional yet rude and deserving of a beat down— katsuki thinks. if he could just take a bite, crunch down on the woman’s skull and swallow her whole, all of his problems would be solved.

“goodness, bakugou,” the woman leers with a nasty curl of her sweaty upper lip. “i’m paying for the wedding not for you to be dressed like a complete slob— you look awful, and at my only daughter’s engagement party!” she drones on and if venom were to murder this woman right now, she really would deserve it.

“see? you are a loser, bakugou.”

he wasn’t dressed that bad, sure, it wasn’t the burgundy blazer and pressed white shirt you’d told him to pick up from the dry cleaners on the way home from work but— it was smart casual, a nice pair of jeans and a smart jacket. you liked that. that’s all that mattered.

bowing his head slightly, bakugou wordlessly apologises before fishing himself out another glass of mercilessly alcohol free fruit punch. “‘m sorry ma’am—“

he cuts himself off when your name flitters from between your mother’s lips— the syllables that usually sound so pretty when strung together now ugly tainted by the evil woman. “she deserves so much better than you,” she doesn’t ease up on reminding bakugou of how lucky he is to have bagged you. to love you. “better than a wannabe journalist on a motor cycle.”

“die… pewny crazy woman—“

bakugou feels the familiar crawl of the venom symbiote across his skin— sharp-edges, dangerous claws reaching out for the wicked woman to snag her head off when he controls himself, controls his little friend and forces his stare back to the catered pile of desserts.

“venom,” katsuki is barely hanging onto his sanity, voice tainted with exhaustion. it’s like having a child constantly on your back, begging for things that aren’t acceptable for adults. he wonders how he’s been able to put up with this, how you’re able to put up with him. since becoming one with the alien life form— katsuki bakugou has been nothing but neglectful of you…turning his back on you during nights full of romance because he’s scared venom will hurt you, he’s missed cake and wine and menu tasting for the wedding because venom craved a little something meatier and sometimes even more human than whatever you’d been excited to try for your big day. katsuki forgets calls, doesn’t reply to texts— cycles into the night to take care of his little problem when he should be looking after you.

katsuki’s been insufferable; meaner than usual, flakier than he should be and he knows that he’s hurting you— not loving you properly like he should. blaming venom alone would be the easy way out. yet you stayed, you kept that ring on your finger and put on your best smile, because for some reason you still found it in your too big of a heart to love katsuki even when he didn’t deserve it.

still away with his thoughts, blonde is absent to notice venom popping out— a creepy, sticky black head, to greet a curious child after some of the sweets at this swanky engagement party. “want to play hide and seek? the mouth is a good place to start.” venom’s attempt at a coo is far from comforting, rows of razor sharp teeth covered in alien slobber only frightening the little one more.

“fuck off venom, cut yer crap out or i’ll—“ bakugou waves a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose only to be pulled from his revere by a whimpering child ( now identified as your five year old nephew who still hates his guts ). “oh shit—“

“would you mind not cursing in front of my kid?” your brother hastily appears from absolutely fucking nowhere. shindou is far from impressed, hates bakugou’s guts as does the rest of your family and if he had his way, the blonde wouldn’t have a leg to stand on at the alter with you. “yanno, you might wanna behave yourself tonight? it’s important to my ma, to my sister so if you could—“

there’s a burning rage that flickers through bakugou’s veins only heightened by the alien that makes a host out of his body, and it only makes it harder to fight off the urge for manslaughter. “we should eat him too…katsuki…he is getting on my nerves. i am sure he will taste like chicken.” the alien growls from the deep corners of his mind.

“they do not taste like chicken you stupid fuckin’ lug.” bakugou grunts back.

and to the outside world, the shitty excuse for a man is talking to himself— getting shindou’s back right up. “what did you just call me?”

“stay outta this, man. s’between me and the dumb fuckin’ alien voice in my head.”

insane. katsuki bakugou’s little alien friend makes him look absolutely insane.

and before he can get his ass beat by your brother— you swoop in, slightly flushed from flickering between guests of friends and family all night, there’s smile lines in your makeup, you’re tired in the eyes and you’re still the most beautiful person in the room to bakugou. his heart races when you’re close enough for him to smell your perfume, putting a safe distance between your fiancé and your brother.

you’re angry with him, bakugou can tell by the heat in your gaze when you get shindou far enough from the dessert table— he can feel it in the way it burns against his skin in broad waves, see it in how you twist on your heel so fast your dress, pretty and off-white like a bride on her wedding day, rides up enough to catch a glimpse of your thighs. it’s shameful to admit, but seeing you so full of rage turns him ( and venom ) on.

“what the hell is going on with you, katsuki?” you bark at him, hands on his chest enough to make the blood rush to his cock, swelling in the pants he’d just managed to throw on for tonight’s event.

“n-nothin’ sweetheart, ‘m just—“ fuck her katsuki. she’s angry, venom goads. she is pretty when she’s angry. we should fuck her. the blonde shakes his head, trying to rid himself of vulgar thoughts— clearing his mind, focusing on you and how your chest heaves, with annoyance, tucked away in that tight fitting dress that hugs you in all the right places, as you look up at your fiancé expectantly. fuck. “the only one that’ll be fuckin’er is me, you dumb fuck alien.”

it’s embarrassing, whatever’s gotten into your fiancé— because tonight was supposed to be special, the one night before your wedding that you could trust him to behave and not make that familiar prickling warmth coil in your core at his vulgar words. your eyes widen in shock and you push again at katsuki’s chest with furrowed brows.

“kats, please—“

shindou squeezes down on your nephew’s ears, hoping it’ll block out whatever filth spills from your lover’s mouth. “that’s my sister! you dipshit, get a grip—“

“fuck him too, katsuki…”

“yo—“ you turn around again, spitting venom ( no pun intended ) at your brother too as you grasp at bakugou’s wrist to pull him from the banquet room you’d booked for tonight’s celebrations. “go check on ma, please? i’ll deal with him.”

and you exactly that, nagging the man’s ear off as you tug him to the bathroom— tears glittering as pretty as your engagement ring in your eyes under the artificial light. you’re nearly broken at this point, months of being treated so differently, akin to trash possibly, by the man you love most being unleashed on him and the symbiote that sits comfortably in his frame unbeknownst to you.

“i’m sick of this kats,” you might as well be screaming at this point, your whiny and emotional voice is loud and noisy to the alien. it echoes through the cubical you’ve locked yourselves in and it cranks up the annoyance within venom— and you barely notice katsuki trying to keep him down. “i’ve been good to you all these years, haven’t i? i’ve loved you well enough for you to know that i deserve better than you but i just can’t—!”

the final straw is when you bang your fist against the cubical wall, the noise rattling the symbiote inside your lover, forcing ink black tendrils to take over his host body and a scream to tear in the base of your throat as katsuki transforms into something you don’t even recognise.

the man towering over you now is built in a suit of sticky, obsidian black— white, and cloudy slits peer into yours in a way that sends shivers down your spine and has your thumping heart leaping into your throat. this isn’t your man, this isn’t your katsuki. horror seeps through your body, takes residence in your veins as the monster grasps at you with claws and tentacles instead of your fiancé’s slightly calloused hands. it dwarfs you more in comparison to bakugou, it makes you scared looking at what it’s made of him as thick slime slides up and down your pretty, blemished skin in ripples.

“don’t scream.” the rasp you’d come so accustomed to, the one that makes your breath hitch every time he speaks, the one that fills you with butterflies despite the roots of fear wrapping around your heart. it’s him, your katsuki. the tendrils of black have peels back from his pretty face, his ruby gem

eyes send a flicker of comfort through your soul.

but then he’s gone again and the dark mask takes over— screaming at you at a pitch close to making your ears bleed, and you’re scared again, close to screaming too. it, pools like an oil slick over your mouth, suffocating you like a bird on the surface of oil laden water…but you like it, even as if claws ironically gently at the insides of your mouth.

“but we like it when she is screaming. katsuki. we are dirty minded.” the creature addresses you, some kind of twisted affection reflecting in the white of its eye.

“venom, i swear to fuck—“

it’s… katsuki’s… venom’s tongue, long and pink darts out to smooth over your face though you quiver, body toppling over with liquid dread. it’s warm, wet and shouldn’t send a spark of lust down your spine making you let out a muffled whimper of confused arousal.

“mouth…breasts…cunt…so many snacks…so little time.” venom pins you against the wall, pouring over you and invading every inch of your shaky frame— smothering you as it slips under your dainty little dress while you squirm about in it’s hold.

eventually, the ink black peels away from your mouth, only when your muted screams die down. “t-this? katsuki? this is what’s gotten into you?” he’s relieved to see that you’re still filled with anger as you gulp in fresh air between ripping him a new one, he’s completely aware of your growing arousal too. “a parasite! you’ve let a fucking parasite take over your body and ruin our engagement night and now—“

venom, is offended, however. “—i am not a parasite!” he growls. “i am venom, and you are mine.”

“ours…fuck, i mean mine.” katsuki comments, but he doubts you can hear him through the layers of teeth venom wears while arguing with the symbiote itself. it’s a back and forth, but even during that your fiancé can practically smell how your cunt drools into your barely-there panties— from fear or desire, he can’t care to tell. you’re so wet, and between dealing with venom and not seeing you during wedding prep, the blonde can’t remember the last time he fucked you good and proper.

it’s been ages, and you look too fucking good tonight.

“we should just take her…katsuki. flood her insides with seed. she is asking for it, like a hunk of meat waiting to be devoured….”

you squirm against venom’s web like hold, “don’t talk about me like i’m not here you piece of shit! give me back katsuki—!”

“her pulse has quickened. she is hungry for us.” the voice of venom roars from inside his head, equally as desperate for you as katsuki is. katsuki, in combination with the symbiote, surges forward to kiss you with greedy lips and to press his saliva covered and syrupy tongue into the heat of your mouth so he can silence you. it’s big, hefty as it fills you up until there’s drool pooling out and sitting on the corner of your pretty lips. “i like her. more.”

and then you moan, it sounds like a symphony as your mouth swells with the thickness of the slimy tongue exploring your throat and rolling over your tongue. “we’ve been neglecting’ you, hah, sweetheart?” bakugou, your fiancé, groans against your spit slicked lips— smiling at the way you choke from his tongue retreating from choking you down your oesophagus. “wanna take care of ya, been letting you work yer ass off f’this weddin’,” venom’s strawberry tongue slithers out again like a snake seeking out its pray, leaving a sloppy trace over your neck as if to taste the salt that shimmers like crystals on your skin.

“i’m getting hungry as well, katsuki.”

they’re both starving for you, depraved of a meal that is your cunt with your panties tucked between swollen folds. “i-if you think…that you can make it up to me.” your speak hoarsely, throat still raw as you pant and catch your breath, “k-katsuki if you think i can forgive you…”

“let us fuck you, baby. i just— we just wanna feel you. c’mon sweetheart, you trust me yeah? y’missed me so much i know,” all three of you feel it, the way your pussy throbs against venom’s beefy and wet thigh from where he’d shoved it snug between the pair of your own.

“d-did… i did. m-miss you, oh fuck!” you stutter out as thick digits belonging to your fiancé— thickened even more by venom, brush against your hip, dip beneath your skirt and panties to glide up and down your pussy. bakugou teases your entrance, scissoring two fingers inside of your warmth while you ooze into the seat of his palm and grind against him with wanton. “fuck me. both of you, p-please kats,” you beg, riding his fingers until they’re pulled out of you, coated in juices.

your body admits it before your brain does— that you’ve missed him, he can tell from how your chest naturally arches into the eager hunting path of katsuki’s mouth. your flavour reads sweetness, like salted caramel due to the sweat on your skin— his, venom’s tongue runs a course down your body, the sweetheart neckline of your dress rough on his taste buds before he drools between the swell of your pretty tits. he leaves trails of saliva every inch of you possible.

a patch is licked down the front of your dress— katsuki barely fighting off sharp teeth desperate to tear through the front of it so he can kiss the softness of your tummy. instead, hands large enough to crush a skull stick to the dips and fat at your waist, the doughy-ness of your darling thighs he’s missed so much.

the black veil of venom peels back as katsuki’s head dips under your flimsy skirt— and he practically moans, huskily at that, upon seeing the crotch of your underwear darker by your ever growing wetness. “must’a really missed me, sweetheart,” a wildfire of lust sweeps over katsuki’s ruby red eyes and he coos deviently, nose nudging against your pulsing clit before venom’s tongue happily comes into play this game of sinful chess. he moves just a touch, mouth pulling wide to split at the sides much like a snake unhinging it’s jaw, and latches onto the entire length of your silken slit. his tongue greedily pokes at your hole from over the soaked material— sucking until your juices stream against his taste buds. you’re like a drug, ecstasy— sending waves of dopamine over katsuki’s brain.

burning desire trickles into bakugou’s bloodstream at an alarming rate, bursting through his veins and shaking about in his lungs at every little whimper that bubbles wetly on your messy lips— these soon turn to gasps, straining for air as if you’re drowning when your fiancé peels back your wet layer of clothing, nearly tearing completely through it with a life threatening talon belonging to venom, so he can expose your hot cunt to the cool air of the bathroom. he laughs, breathless and giddy against your mound before dragging his tongue along it— kitten licking your addictive little core just to see you twitch and writhe against the wall venom has you pinned to.

you’re heaven on earth for a greedy, predatory creature like venom.

but you’re the universe to a regular man like katsuki bakugou.

your cute little clit is his next stop, pointed teeth only just latching onto the pleasure bud before your fiancé rolls it between the two sets until your nose scrunches adorably and your eyes shoot back into your skull. “i think the little human likes this.” venom’s deep voice inches down your spine, hits deep in your core just with its vibrations— and even he is amused with how wet, you’ve become. gushing like a fruitful stream, pouring liquid gold straight into katsuki’s awaiting mouth, down his chin and painting his cheeks until they shine like treasure.

there’s an uneven rise and fall to your chest as you’re fucked by two entities— you can barely breathe between them both, the shapes on your clit and the stickiness of venom catching your juices before they have a chance to run down your thighs. bakugou is lovesick, and so are you— big bambi eyes staring down into his own so earnestly, imploringly. the blonde pushes his tongue past the entrance to your fluttering hole, watching as your stare trembles before flickering to between your legs where you stretch over the fat pink appendage. it’s so big, that it might as well be a fucking cock.

“h-ho’fuck…h’my god…ka’suki…s’too much. too fucking much!” the words feel like cotton in your mouth, slurred over venom’s tentacles and while the world spins on it’s axis around you, you cream around the base of the scorching, spit dripping limb in venom’s mouth as it wriggles inside you— tip writing sinful praises against your gooey walls, languidly stroking your insides and pressing up against pleasure spots that are new to both you and katsuki. big hands grasp at the meat of your ass— the tips of piercing nails marring your skin and spreading you nice and wide, pulling you onto your lover’s face so that you’re practically suffocating him with have no escape for you either, making your hips canter down to meet the thrust of his tongue in and out of you, barely parting from your honeyed sex.

a scream rumbles in the base of your throat as venom’s lengthy, girthy tongue twists against your lush inner-walls, churning up your guts. the symbiote using your partner as a host is quick to think— shoving his slime deep into your mouth again to tame your sacchariferous griping and grousing, the inestimable melody laying flat against the saliva pooling on your own tongue. “quiet sweetheart, can’t make you cum if yer too loud,” bakugou breathes, his voice laden with lust and amusement from watching you ride his tongue like it’s a plump, pretty and veiny dick. “y’gunna cum baby, fuck yes…gush f’me just like that, oh yeah…”

“for us, katsuki.” the beast inside his head reminds your fiancé, his mask coating bakugou’s face once more— easing you into fright once again, one that makes you quiver just right on him, nearly pushing yourself over the edge.

it’s disgustingly delightful how the pink appendage has a mind of its own, acting like your own personal dildo, fucking you good like one and it’s not long before your body succumbs to the mounting pleasure— the taste of an orgasm like honey oozing across your tongue while happy chemicals dance across your brain, accompanied by white noise as you finally get to cum. you’re spiralling, the tip of venom’s…katsuki’s… fuck it. you don’t even care anymore, the tongue brushes against your g-spot hard causing you to clamp down, suffocating your fiancé, and your jaw to goes slack.

you gush as much as water falls, humping pathetically at your fiancé’s face until your entire body is limp and strands of the symbiote have to keep you up and away from katsuki’s eager mouth ( he’s still hungry, happy to clean you up ) where your legs can’t.

venom slowly retreats from your throat too, but your brain doesn’t have time to catch up when he does, for bakugou’s lips replace the heat that your own mouth has lost— pulling you into a frenzied, spit swapping kiss. “‘m not done with ya yet sweetheart,” he laments, lips grazing yours, licking into your open mouth so you get a taste of yourself too. your body bows into katsuki’s, you feel it before you see it, hear it too— the clink of a metal belt, the sticky tap against your stimulated mound from underneath your panties…fiancé’s iron hot cockhead twitching forward and poised to push through your awaiting salacious folds. “venom wants ya so badly, wants me t’make it up to ya…paint yer pretty cunt with my cum.”

the alien matter has crawled back from surrounding your lover’s hips, sitting just beneath his weighty balls, heavy with seed all for you. it’s obvious how painfully hard he is, standing at full mast and the sight makes your mouth water, pupils dilate and a hunger settle in your chest for katsuki, one you haven’t felt for a while. he’d been neglectful, dealing with this venom shit alone when you could’ve been beside him—guiding him through, though you supposed that didn’t matter anymore…seeing as they were both willing to make it up to you now. “our cum. we are going to ruin her…katsuki.” the symbiote growls, making his presence known to you both in the heated, sex scented bathroom stall. “i am going to ruin you.”

underneath his hair, matted to his forehead by perspiration, katsuki’s brows furrow in confusion. “what the fuck are you on about—?” his question falls away into an airy exhale, twisted with a sharp clap against his ass, like skin on skin. “f-fuck…oh fuck….d-damn parasite’s f-fuckin’ m-my ass…” your fiancé’s head drops to the junction between your neck and shoulder, pointed teeth latching onto your saltine skin as venom twists his ink black tendrils into a shape made to ruin katsuki from behind— thrusting sharp into his puckered hole.

“i am not a parasite!” the symbiote snarls, pulling back to pump into your lover again, this time with no mercy on bakugou’s ill prepped and fluttering hole—pressing right up against the blonde’s prostate. the force only has his own hips cantering forward, his cock, wrapped in pretty blue veins bullying it’s way through your swollen pussy lips— dragging back and forth against your overstimulated clit.

the whole ordeal is slimy, hot and steamy— katsuki pressed against you with no room for anything else aside from lust and the doubled down sound of skin clapping against each other. him grinding his shaft into your sweet cunt while venom pounds away at his warm, tight ass. when the symbiote pulls back, bakugou peels his seedy dick from between your selfish folds— clinging onto him by viscid ropes of evidence from your last orgasm while his cockhead smears fat globs of white against your mound.

“my fuckin’ god,” you can feel every twitch of his length between your messy thighs, every throb as venom pushes deeper into katsuki— subsequently pushing his tip against abused and sensitive entrance. “m’baby’s got the prettiest pussy… can’t believe ‘m marryin this fuckin’ pussy… oh god.” he whines, drooling over your shoulder because he can’t keep quiet without pacifying himself on you, bakugou’s venom covered hand descends between your bodies to tap his mushroomed milky tip against your pleasure button a few times, smirking as your body jolts and the oil slick arms of venom spread your pussy lips further apart to watch more of the action ( your throbbing cunt and the pearls of arousal that leak from it ). “can’t believe she’s all fuckin’ ours, hah parasite?”

“no one can have her. only you and i.” he says in response, and your tummy flutters when bakugou repeats it back to you— the possession both he and the alien have over you doing nothing to stop the ticking time bomb of your orgasm building up in your lower tummy again.

to see your future husband with flushed cheeks and vacant eyes as he’s being fucked raw ( by an alien or not ) only serves to turn you on further, pussy drooling and juices slinging between both of your thighs with the back and forth of your humping, sticky noises accompanying your in tune breathless moans that follow one another’s with ‘O’ shaped mouths and end in sloppy kisses.

with your gasped pleas and katsuki’s gruff mewls echoing throughout the bathroom— venom picks up the pace— rocking his dick shaped appendage harder and faster into your fiancé’s ribbed insides, forcing your bodies against each other in a passionate miry dance of nasty, filthy sex. the walls of the bathroom stall creak on their hinges from the force behind venom’s thrusts, jamming hard against katsuki’s prostate which in turn has your rubbing down on his fat dick, faster and faster until all you can hear is the pap, pap, pap of your sexes working with one another.

“want it inside, need you inside! f-fuck yes!” you garble, almost pornogroahically, katsuki’s convulsing creamy cock driving you up the wall insane. “please.”

bakugou presses his forehead to your own , body bouncing forward against yours from the power behind venom’s aggressive pace inside of him while your pebbled nipples brush against each other. “can’t,” he whines with nearly teary ruby eyes, the crystalline droplets already gathered in his lash line like yours. “been gone from the party too long, g’nna cum soon anyways. s-shit!” though you whimper with faux disappointment, you’re not far from release either— the feverishness to either of your movements dragging you by the ankles to another high after all the abuse to your sensitive sex. you find yourself throwing hips down to meet katsuki’s rapid thrusts. his hands fumble for one of your meaty thighs to hook it over his slender, slime covered waist while you grasp at his taut ass to spread him wider, allowing venom to reach deeper spots inside of him.

katsuki shifts, changing the angle of his venom controlled thrusts so that his glistening cockhead breaches your entrance only just— making your eyes roll back for the millionth time that night, your nails sinking into his peachy ass. “‘m right there kats, oh—! right there…” you warn him through gritted teeth.

he tilts head up, tongue licking over the sweat on your Cupid’s bow. “yer cummin’… g’nna cum f’us baby?” you nod rapidly in response, barely standing on the crumbling edge of your orgasm. between that and the alien parasite tearing his ass in two, jammed up on his prostate— dancing in the back of his mind and commanding him to cum… katsuki can’t seem to hold of either. “let go f’me baby, lemme feel it. give it all fuckin’ to me. to us.”

“cum katsuki.”

your body follow’s bakugou’s lead, and he, venoms. “ohh fuck, uhhh shit! ‘m fucking cumming— yeah, yeah. oh yeah…” your fiancé beefs needy and loud, his first spirts of thick white seed barely hitting your cunt before you let out a large wave and gush so hard your release makes a crude slap when ir hits the ground. your panties are soaked through and blood rushes through your ears— all your senses numb to the world except for katsuki using your shaking body to ride out the rest of his high, pouring his release into your soiled panties and against your slit.

you see new colours, new galaxies and universes— everything hitting you so hard you barley have time to comprehend that you’ve just fucked an alien that’s using your fiancé as a host. it still doesn’t register within you as katsuki puts venom away, pulling out from underneath your skirt before he fixes your panties warm with cum snug against you again.

“‘m gonna take ya back to the party sweetheart, we’ll have to talk about this later.” bakugou coos, though you’re both wobbly on your feet as you come down.

it’s so cute that all you can do is nod, seemingly appeased with your fiancé compared to how furious you had been before venom helped fuck you good.

if katsuki had known using the alien as a sex toy would get him out of trouble with you and back into your good books— he would have done it much earlier.

“i will not eat any of the humans here tonight… as long as we are able to ravage your tiny human again…katsuki.” the symbiote promises when bakugou hangs back a few seconds as you slip back into the party— hoping that your sins go unnoticed.

and even if you squint while watching you join your family and friends for the rest of the night, you would notice all of them— the way you stagger on your legs and the shiny marks from venom’s slime decorating them too, leaving a sweet smile on bakugou’s face.

“oh buddy, as long as yer a fuckin’ parasite in my body, we can ravage her like that any day, for the rest of my life.” katsuki boasts proudly.

“for the last time. i am not a parasite!”

8K notes · View notes

ohsuguruu · 2 years

Text

untitled. b.k.

bakugou katsuki x reader.

wc. 2k

an. hi! this is a rewrite of one of my previous works before i deleted my old blog. please like and reblog if you enjoy! feedback would be appreciated :)

warnings. 18+ fem!reader, oral fem!receiving, praise, degradation? (use of whore is used once), katsuki spits in your mouth:), aged up bakugou. pushing my soft and whipped katsuki agenda.

synopsis. bakugou katsuki loves coming home to you :)

bakugou katsuki is a simple man.

he likes waking up early in the morning, and kissing your sleeping face before he leaves for his morning jog. he likes coming back to your smiling face, smelling your perfume and the scent of your hair when you walk past him to your closet.

the thing he likes the most, however, is coming home to you.

he remembers you whispering something about having off today, and your gleeful smile while you tell him all that you want to do. i might make brownies katsu’. maybe i'll even frost them for you. he remembers the way you wiggled your eyebrows at him then, adding a suggestive, only if you say please. he also remembers the way you suddenly broke off into a shriek when he responded by digging his fingers into your sides.

he smiles at the memory, but it grows even wider when he’s hit with the smell of brownies baking when he opens the front door. he can hear the soft croon of amy winehouse, along with your half-assed attempt at a duet.

when he walks into the kitchen however, he can feel the warmth in his chest spread to the rest his body while he watches you slightly sway to the music.

when you spot him, you start singing louder into the wooden spoon, reaching out to get him to dance with you. you're such a dumbass, you hear him whisper, feeling his strong hands move to your waist covered by your soft sleep shirt.

you’re the one dancing with me, you reply. katsuki just laughs, moving his hands to the small of your back while dipping his head to greet you with a kiss. the perfect picture of domestic bliss.

his kisses start to intensify, purpose flooding his actions. his hand moves to have a gentle hold on your chin, kissing the side of your mouth and moving down to your neck.

your hand trails up his workout shirt to feel his stomach tensing as he moves his pelvis to touch your tummy. he always showers before he comes home from the agency, which you always wrinkle your nose at. you’ve always liked the way he smells.

his moves his hands downward, patting your bottom to let you know to jump. he places you on the kitchen counter, kneading your hips as he continues kissing your neck.

you move a hand upwards to tug at his hair, eager to feel his lips on yours again.

he feels your hands tugging at his shirt, breaking away to look at your pouting face. “take it off katsu, please? wanna feel you.”

a small groan slips out of his mouth, eyebrows furrowing when he sees your soft eyes. he slips out of his shirt as quickly as he can manage, making a soft giggle leave your swollen lips.

he returns to you with surprising swiftness, your hands digging into his broad shoulders and feet crossing at the small of his back at the feeling of his tongue caressing your mouth.

it makes you shiver, feeling his big palms slide against your skin, fingertips digging into all the places where you're soft and pliant. makes you whimper against the push of his mouth, plead for him to make you feel good.

he listens, and he listens well. his big palm sliding down the front of your stomach, reaching past the damp patch of curls to thumb against your clit.

it makes you gasp, hips tilting out towards his hand as he palms you, middle finger sliding towards the place where you’re leaking steadily.

you pull back from his mouth slightly, taking a breath to really look at him. how soft he looks in the soft light of the setting sun, how good he looks when his face pinches as he feels how good and ready you are for him.

it makes you ache something fierce in between your thighs and somewhere deep in your chest. only something he can soothe. it makes you spread your legs, drawing him deeper into you.

it only intensifies when you feel him. hard and ready against your upper thigh, his hips moving slightly to help himself gain control. it makes you huff, smashing your lips back together, nails digging into the hard plains of his shoulders.

makes him smile, feeling how ready you are at the pull of your hands. his girl, like you were made for him. makes him slip two fingers into you, feel how soft and wet you are. “sh, baby. ‘s okay,” he mumbles, when he hears the hurt sound fall from your lips. “gotta get you ready for me, sweet girl.”

he curls his fingers, rubbing against that rough spot inside of you, makes your hips jolt and lips fall slack into a cry. he swallows it from your open mouth, and lets out a whimper of his own as he thinks about tasting you.

he does just that, removing his finger, and sucking them clean. katuski lowers back onto his haunches, tugging softly at your sleep shorts.

you can see the need in him, lifting your hips to let him tug them off. he spreads your legs wider, taking a look at your cute cotton panties, placing a kiss on your clit before he yanks them off too.

he opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out to place a sloppy kiss against your bare entrance. he licks his lips, savoring your taste as his eyes roll back in his head. it makes his free hand drift down to the front of his sweatpants, palming himself before slipping his hand inside. he tugs at himself, moaning into your cunt at your taste.

you arch your back against the counter top, feeling the vibrations and his nose bump against your bundle of nerves. it makes you reach for him, gripping his hair so tight you know that it stings a little. it only makes him needier though, using his free hand to shove you against his face, drowning himself in your cum.

you can only handle so much, however. feeling yourself ache more, quickly becoming frustrated at how unsatisfied you still feel. katuski, you whimper. your strained voice makes him stop, looking up to see your pleading eyes. makes him want to give it to you good so you’ll feel better, wants to make you feel so good you see stars.

so, he returns to your arms. his big palm rubbing soothing circles on your lower tummy as he lowers his sweatpants enough to slip himself out.

you push yourself up on your elbows as you watch him rub the head against your leaking entrance, covering himself in your cum. he moves the head up to your clit, giving you some teasing smacks, the soft pap pap’s make you whine.

you see it in the way his grin grows, the way his eyes go a bit more unfocused. you know he wants you just as bad as you want him. makes you go insane with it, reaching to take his cock in your hand to push it into you yourself.

it proves to be too tough for you though, the pleasurable ache of bakugou katsuki makes you flatten against the counter top, eyes closed as you release little hurt sounds with every exhale.

it makes him crazy all the same, his eyebrows furrowing and palm slapping against the countertop to keep his overeager hips from rutting into you. makes him groan, moving his thumb to rub your clit and feel your fluttering walls trying to take him.

“‘s okay, honey. sh, sh, take it.” he shifts his hips closer, feeling you slowly give way to let him slide fully inside. the push makes you scramble, grip quickly onto his hand on your lower stomach.

he finally bottoms out, releasing a shuttering groan to match with your shrill whimper. makes you breathe out a weak “okay,” then “okay, okay, okay.” soothing yourself and getting used to the feeling inside of you.

his left hand moves then, pushing up your sleep shirt to thumb at your nipple before finding its home against your ribcage. he sees the furrow of your brow, your breasts heaving and your hips grinding your clit against the coarse hairs on his pelvis. it makes his head drop, resting his forehead against yours as his hips jerk.

“you’re so pretty, sweet girl.”

“thank you, katsu,” you reply, voice soft. ever so pliant and sweet. that’s where his favorite nickname came from, looking at your soft eyes and sweet smile whenever you’d do something for you. always remembering your manners, just such a sweet girl.

he pulls his hips back slightly, feeling your walls grip him and suck him back in. makes you moan, soft and sweet, harmonizing with his shuddering groan. he thrusts back in, hard, jostling your body and pulling a startled ah! from your throat.

he pulls back again, and again, and again until he establishes a steady rhythm. katsuki spreads your folds, watching himself slide in and out with a squelch, listening to the moaning coming from your mouth and watching you clutch at his hand and your breast.

rolling his hips slightly upwards, he angles himself to hit that rough spot inside of you every. single. time. it makes you feral, twisting your upper body, and scrambling to place your palm on his toned lower stomach to try and control his thrusts.

he dips his head, trying to kiss at your slack lips, laughing into your open mouth as he grabs your cheeks to spit in it. he leans back slightly, pulling himself out, and slaps the tip of his cock on your clit, laughing at the way you squeal. “you’re so pretty honey,” he mumbles, bringing his head down to mouth at your hairline as he pushes himself back in. “such a sweet girl, baby, my sweet girl. my whore,” he says, his hips going faster and faster, creating a repetitive slapping sound.

you feel delirious, sparks sizzling just underneath your skin, the burning in the pit of your stomach intensifying with every thrust. constant streams of moans and babbled declarations of love bubbling from your mouth, begging for something you can’t place.

your body feels taut, slowly curling in on itself as the fire grows stronger. your legs begin to shake, eyes growing blurry with tears and your moans grow higher in pitch.

katsuki isn’t faring much better. his big hands digging into the softness of your hips, feeling his balls pull up tight as the knot in his stomach grows tighter and tighter. he watches as a lone tear falls from your eyes as your eyes roll slightly into the back of your head and your back arch -

he feels the way you clamp down, can hear your breathing stutter as stars erupt behind your eyes lids. it sets off a chain reaction, him whimpering out a final love you as he finally reaches his end.

you like to watch him as you come down, like the way his neck stretches and the way his adam’s apple bobs with a final elongated groan. makes you smile, feeling the warmth of him escaping around his cock. you stretch, feeling like the cat that got the canary.

with one final shutter, katsuki opens his eyes to look at you, smiling with you as he catches your eye. he leans down, clutches the side of your face as he gives you a sloppy kiss, humming into your mouth.

the afterglow is shattered, however, when you hear the shrill tone of your alarm, signaling the brownies are done. you go to move to take them out, but katsuki just smiles. he pulls out swiftly, ignoring your small hiss of discomfort, and throws you over his shoulder to walk you bare ass naked to your shared bedroom.

“katsuki!” you shriek, more worried about the brownies burning than anything else.

he slaps your ass to silent you, barking out a laugh as a responce to your startled hey!

he deposits you onto your shared bed, ignoring your wrinkled nose at the idea of cum getting onto your clean sheets.

“don’t worry, i'll take care of it,” in response to both the brownies and the sheets. “ just focus on regaining your strength after i just fucked your brains out.”

he moves to leave the room, throwing his head back in a laugh at your flustered attempt at scolding him. he returns to the kitchen with a dopey grin on his face, looking for the oven mits.

he wonders silently if this one will finally stick.

fin.

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