thinking of kirishima and bakugou taking turns eating you out.
both men between your legs while you’re sprawled out in front of them. katsuki licking your pussy up and down, sucking on your clit while groaning into you sending vibrations through your entire body. while eijirou bites on your inner thigh, leaving bruising marks all over your skin, licking long stripes after each bite. switching places as katsuki starts sucking on your skin trailing up to the back of your knee while eijirou starts lapping up your cunt and burying his tongue inside your pulsing walls.
katsuki leaning back down and pressing the side of his face next to eijirou’s as he starts licking your pussy again. their tongues fighting against each other as they drool all over your folds. dragging them along your cunt, flicking them on your clit at a fast pace before running them down to your entrance to drink up your release as you cum on their tongues.
SYPNOSIS: you realising how strong your pro hero boyfriend is
CONTENTS: pro hero!bakugou x gen!reader, fluff, size difference, established relationship
AUTHOR'S NOTE: yeah m posting after half a million years, so what? i havent proof read it but i hope you enjoy
thinking about katsuki getting so so big in his prime, like he can probably shield three or four people from his back alone. and you know it, you can see it but you still couldn't wrap your head around the strength of the muscle tower of a boyfriend of yours.
that is until one day when you stand outside of his agency watching him saying something to the receptionist and nodding as a greeting before making his way to the huge glass doors to get outside. you jump a lil on your toes as you feel excitement and pure joy rushing in your whole body knowing from this moment till the next sunrise him and his attention is all yours. you can't help but grin widely, your body aches to jump in his arms, to wrap your arms around his neck and to fill his ear from praises of how well he did today no matter what- until his head and body starts feeling light as if he's floating on soft clouds you built from your soft praises.
and so you do just that. as soon as he is out of those ridiculously large glass doors you're sprinting towards him, he spots you instantly like he always does, as if there's a detector of your presence fit inside his head.
he takes two steps forward with his arms wide open and so so inviting for his and only his baby, and he may or may not have let a chuckle rumble out of his chest despite being out in public and right out of his agency at that. and if you will ask him, he won't shy away from telling you that's what you do to him, that it's how his soul lets himself loose before his mind catches up to him.
you make him lose his mind.
and when you finally leap into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck, feet dangling above the ground cause he's just so tall, head going right in the crook of his neck, his muscles toned and you feel him everywhere around you, as if all there is in your lil world is him.
you feel him before you hear him.
"hi baby, how are ya doin'?" he asks in his deep voice, as his one hand comes up to brush away the hair strands that had fallen forward in your face while his other is wrapped securely around your waist. and you're looking at him with the same lovesick eyes from years ago when you had fallen for him and he's looking at you with equally sweet eyes that will make anyone from around you guys question if this is the same dynamight whose one look is enough to make anyone rip their own heart out in terror before he does it from his own hands.
he waits for your reply just to watch with a brow raised when your mouth opens and closes itself and your eyes start roaming around his broad chest as you press both your palms against it. with your eyes still stuck staring at his chest you tap two fingers twice against him and as if he's trained, he sets you on the ground carefully still holding onto your waist.
"you okay babe?" he asks once again, brows slightly furrowed as he tries to make out what might have left you speechless like this.
and then oh he gets it.
he gets it when you lick your bottom lip and try to push him back with both your palms laying flat on his chest, you try to make him move, to make him budge from his spot just for him to stand there still and towering over you.
"...wow" you whisper out breathlessly. he smirks before inquiring, "whatcha doin' sweetheart? you want me to let you go hm?" and he knows, he knows what you're doing and how you want anything but for him to let you go but he wants to hear it from you.
"no no suki, don't want you to let go. it's just.." you take a step forward and hold his arm that is encircled around your waist so he holds you to himself closer, "you're so so strong suki- i mean i knew you were! but how did you not move an inch when i threw myself on you?" you ramble out
and now he's smirking all wide showing his sharp canines, "you think im strong baby?"
and it's like a silent request for you to tell him more, to praise him more. you hum as you look up at him, "i do baby. you're so strong and i love it so much" you tell him with your whole chest leaving no room for doubt and you watch how his eyes light up and feel how his chest puffs under your palm. if it wasn't for his brain to still have somewhat of control he would have beamed at you all wide. sure he has been told that a lot of times, hell he hears it after saving lives everyday.
but it's different when it's you telling him that.
you start trailing your palms up and down his chest before pushing once again and he grabs both your palms in one hand chuckling, "what? are ya plannin' to keep tryin' to make me budge?"
"i mean if you'll let me.." you trail off and watch as a smirk spreads across his annoyingly attractive face "try your best princess" he mumbles with a low voice, raising his brows in a challenging manner.
the next few minutes you spent trying to move him with all your body weight, leaning on his left arm and then right arm. trying to shove him forward from behind, so on and so forth. all while he's either chuckling to himself or grinning.
and when you finally get tired he watches you with a little smile as you try to catch your breath
"think i felt myself move a cm if that coun-" a light smack on his peck from you is enough to shut him up and he tries really hard to keep his laugh in as you send him a glare. "'suki, i am tiredd" you whine out slightly pouting at your defeat
katsuki leans down before he takes your face in both of his palms, fingertips gently swiping along the apples of your cheeks and then he presses a really sweet kiss on your lips, you kiss him back immediately and a chuckle rumbles out from his chest. he pulls back and throws you over his shoulder making you squeal
"i get it you're really strong suki" you groan out, acting annoyed but he grins all wide knowing better when he feels you touch his back muscles even when you're upside down.
the next day the internet and both of your social handles break with "pro hero dynamight seen grinning wholeheartedly for the first time" and it's pictures of you trying all the tricks you can master in your head to make him move while he stands there grinning, eyes crinkled at the corner, teeth on display and everything plus of you thrown over his shoulder as he walks with his chest puff and grinning so bright as if he had just won the battle of his life. and in a way he believes he did cause he has you.
you find him on the couch of your shared apartment, scrolling through one of these articles and for the first time you see katsuki going through an article about him without scowling and your heart spreads love, all warm, throughout your body when the same grin from the picture spreads across his face once again as he stares at your pics surfacing the internet.
cw/ tw. all characters are 20+, mentions of insecurity, pregnancy, lactation kink (???), soft smut, praise kink, pet names (ex. princess), body worship, mirror sex, oral sex | wc. 1.4k+
an. I’m literally so soft for this man. repost. | m. list
You stare at yourself in the mirror, studying how your larger-than-normal breasts sit heavily atop your stomach—nipples swollen and puffy—and how your ever-growing baby bump extends past your underwear. Then your gaze trails from the thickness of your thighs down to your swollen ankles and feet.
After another moment of staring at your pregnant body, lips pursed, you let out a defeated sigh before finally looking away.
It's silly to let your mind wander this way, but ever since you caught a few girls at work gossiping in the breakroom about how hot and ‘fuckable’ pro-hero Dynamight looks—well, it started this whirlwind of crazy thoughts.
Did you still look like that too? Fuckable?
Although, that isn't the entirety of it.
You'd be daft not to notice how some reporters stand too close to Katsuki during interviews, that new intern of his always staring at him with stars in her eyes, or when the barista down the street ignores your existence whenever he's with you.
They're all not massively pregnant and pretty, unlike how you've felt for the past month—plus, every single one looks like your husband's type…At least, that’s what you’ve come to think. Not to mention that it's been a few weeks since you and Katsuki have had sex because you've been too exhausted, and he's been staying late at work.
So it's hard not to wonder if maybe, staying late at work meant—
"Tch. Princess, did I tell you to look away?"
Strong fingers grip your chin, bringing your gaze back toward the one scowling at you in the mirror, clearly annoyed that you hadn’t done what he’d told you.
Katsuki’s still in the all-black tailored suit he’d worn to a gala earlier that night, his red silk tie hanging loosely around his neck. Looking at him makes your pulse stutter because he seems so big and intimidating behind you, and you’re in nothing but a lacy black pair of underwear.
It makes you want to crawl into yourself and hide, but he won’t let you.
A calloused thumb smooths along the curve of your jaw. When Katsuki feels that you won’t drop your gaze from his, he loosens his grip on your chin and brings it down, filling his large palms with your sensitive breasts—he smirks at your sharp inhale before lightly flexing his fingers just to hear you make more breathy sounds.
"Get out of that pretty head of yours, and keep your eyes on the mirror."
"I want to go to the bed," you huff shakily.
Katsuki shakes his head. "I'm going to fuck you right here," his words leave zero room for argument.
"No, princess," he growls, leaning down to nip the vulnerable slope of your neck so that your complaints die in your throat. "I have to teach you a lesson for disrespecting my hot as fuck wife."
A blush colors your face, and you have to fight the urge to look away again, afraid he’ll decide to make you stand there longer.
"You're not beautiful, huh?"
"No, I just—"
The look he gives you makes your stomach swoop, mouth closing as his dark, crimson gaze appreciatively traces the lines of your figure, only settling on your face again after he's had his fill.
"That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard. Do you know how many times I've cum in my hand like a damn teenager to the thought of you?" He breathes hard into the shell of your ear.
You bite your lip, and your following words are almost pitiful. “N-no.”
“This perfect body, all round and full with my baby. These pretty fucking tits.” You watch his eyelashes curve downward when he looks at your body again—the soft groan he lets out deep in his chest vibrating through you. “Fuck, you make me so hard.”
Your heart rate speeds a little when you realize you can feel the press of his stiff cock against the small of your back. And almost instinctively, you feel slick drip into your underwear like your body is already eager for him to be inside you.
Whining, you grind back against him. "Katsu, please.”
"No," he sucks the word into your skin, definitely leaving a mark behind. "Not until you get it through your thick fucking skull that you're the only woman I want. The only woman I want to fuck, you understand?"
A squeak pushes past your lips from him roughly swiping at your nipple with his thumb, mean fingers tugging it into a stiff peak. "C-careful—"
But he does it again, and this time you whimper in embarrassment when white liquid pearls between his fingers, breath hitching as he brings those same fingers to his mouth with a low growl—the sound has your thighs pressing together.
"Shit, I'll never get over the way you taste."
Katsuki’s hands then coast down your sides, under your belly, beneath the waistband of your underwear until he’s petting through the sticky wetness of your slick.
"You're so messy down here. I’d think you actually enjoy watching yourself," he chuckles lowly. He traces the seam of your cunt with his middle finger, purposefully avoiding your clit with every pass.
“Kat—” you breathe, hips bucking against his hand to make him touch you where you want.
“Say that you’re the prettiest fucking girl in the world, and I’ll play with your needy pussy.” He drags his tongue across your soft, shuddering flesh, trailing a wet line up to your ear. “Go on, princess. Say it.”
You whimper when he pushes your damp panties aside to run a finger through your folds, gathering your slick and spreading it around.
The flush on your face is bright as you open your mouth: "I—I’m the prettiest girl—ah!"
Katsuki doesn’t let you finish before he buries two fingers knuckle deep in your pussy, curling into you with ease. The sudden force of pleasure racing through your belly causes your knees to buckle. Thankfully, his hold on you keeps you pressed against his chest.
"Put your hands on the mirror, baby."
Once your warm palms are planted against the cool glass, he knees your legs further apart and crouches down until his face is level with your dripping heat. Your whole body shivers at the feel of his warm breath fanning over you—the walls of your pussy clenching down hard around his fingers still moving inside you.
He growls against you and uses his other hand to spread you apart for him, making you moan, and you notice how the prominent bulge in his slacks jumps at the sound.
Katsuki runs his tongue up and down your slit before loudly sucking one of your puffy lips into his mouth.
Your legs start to tremble as he eagerly licks and slurps at your cunt, bringing tears to your eyes because it’s almost too much and not enough.
And it’s becoming harder to keep your eyes on the mirror.
You're also growing increasingly aware that you can see everything at this angle: Katsuki’s chin dripping wet with your slick, the high color in your cheeks and lidded gaze, eyelashes fluttering. The way your mouth hangs open with breathy mewls and your heavy breasts swaying every time you thrust back onto his mouth and fingers.
You can’t do much more than stand there and take it—that familiar tightness under your stomach is already quickly approaching.
"'M close! Please, please—"
“Yeah, ya gonna make a mess?” he bites your ass cheek. “Lemme fucking feel it, princess.”
Then he curls his fingers just right, hitting that ridged, sweet spot that makes you see stars, and with a rough press of his thumb along your hot clit, you fall apart. A loud moan tears through your chest, and you reach back to bury your fingers in Katsuki’s hair, keeping him against you with a tight grip.
Your eyes finally squeeze shut, unable to keep them open as ecstasy crawls up your spine.
After a moment, you feel him lean back, pulling out his fingers only to spread you open with his thumbs. “Such a sweet pussy,” he mumbles to himself. You sigh, head lolling forward between your shoulders, that is until Katsuki releases a dark chuckle, and your eyes snap open to find his in the mirror.
“You think I’m done? I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
You groan lightly from exhaustion… but you know he sees your empty cunt clench in anticipation.
Bakugou Katsuki’s laundry basket is never empty. He has the belief that everything must be washed after one wear, even if it’s just the sweatpants he was lounging around in for a few hours. It’s hard to tell when much of his closet is similar in color and fashion, but there is not a single item on the hangers that isn’t completely fresh and clean. Everything else belongs in the hamper.
“Hey Katsuki,” You joke one day, “Do you own any other shirts? I think you’ve worn that one at least three times this week.”
“Why the hell would this be the same shirt?” He scrunches his nose in disgust. “The one I wore yesterday is dirty, ya think I’d wear it twice?”
You didn’t know this conversation would be a topic of passion for him. What started as a joke while waiting for the train quickly turns into a small debate. You nudge him in the side with a lighthearted laugh,
“One wear doesn’t mean it’s dirty! You didn’t even go out yesterday.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s in the wash already.”
“So your pants are also different from yesterday, and the other ones are in the wash too?” You give him an inquisitive look. “What about the clothes you slept in?”
“What do ya think? They’re with everything else.”
He acts as if it’s obvious. As if everyone fills their laundry basket over the course of two days, changing between clothes for working in, relaxing in, exercising in, sleeping in, and not reusing a single piece.
“Are you telling me you wash every item of clothing after one wear?”
“And you don’t?”
“Of course not. Something you wear to the gym I understand, but jeans after one wear? A jacket? No way.”
He argues that everything feels too sticky if it’s not washed, and you suppose that’s a valid point considering his quirk. In time however, his mind changes a little bit: After all, it’s kind of nice when his hoodie smells faintly like you after you wear it on a chilly walk home.
He can make an exception. For hoodies maybe, just this once, whenever it’s cold and you borrow them… but if you wore his shirt, would it be the same? Or his jacket, or—
Maybe hoodies aren’t the exception. There’s one thing, or rather, person, that’s constant in these scenarios; something his heart will address another time. But if he thinks about it enough, he’s reluctant to admit that the exception might be you.
Personally, I think having a relationship with Bakugou wouldn’t quite happen the “traditional” way of someone asking the other person out. but rather, it just.. happens?
Like, one day you just started to hang out more, taking turns on who should cook dinner that night or pick up food on the way home from work. Then it became you hanging out at his place much more often, being given a key one day when he said "You basically fuckin’ live here anyway," and you do. You have your own section of his wardrobe, you have a shelf in the cabinet in the bathroom and a corner of the shower for all your own products.
Then suddenly it’s been two years of this, of course, boundaries have been crossed from a friend to a lover, the words ‘i love you’ have been kissed into one another skins at night when he had spent hours worshipping you and vice versa. It’s just, there’s never really been an anniversary? Never had a date where you both say “Oh we’ve been in a relationship since ___”
Of course, you bring it up one evening, both of you in bed with your head on his chest whilst he has one arm tucked behind his head and the other scrolling through his phone whilst something on the tv is playing. “You know, we never actually started ‘officially’ dating.” and he grunts, glaring down at you because how dare you say that to the man who is most definitely more than a boyfriend at this point.
"Ha? The fuck you mean? We’ve been together since—" and he pauses, the same realisation setting in that you both in fact do not have an anniversary date. It never occurred to him, and clearly not to you either but it wasn't like you both needed it? He loved you, and you loved him and that was plenty for the man. "Y'know what? Doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter that we don't have an anniversary?" you say, peering up at him to see the frown on his face.
"No." His clean-cut response. His frown cracks for a second when he presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring a "Basically married now anyway, shouldn't matter when it happened."
bakugou, who was annoyed at this girl in class 1C who had a crush on him who was also interning at endeavors agency, along with him, todoroki, deku, and you. she annoyed him so bad it was effecting his performance, so when you offered to fake date him to get her off his back
bakugou, who hesitated at first, but after hearing you out was convinced enough to try, and laid down a few ground rules, minimal PDA, go over a story on how you met, first name basis to make it more believable, so if she asked your stories wouldn't clash.
bakugou, who at first was furious when he found out the girl told todoroki and deku, and now he had to continue this at school, but later realizes that means everyone thinks your his (you are in his mind)
bakugou, who isnt as mad the next day when deku accidentally tells denki you're "dating", and is even more happy when he overhears mineta and denki talking about how they cant flirt with you anymore
bakugou, who always had a soft spot for you, and dubbed you "princess" or "dumbass" nicknames far better than the rest of the class, but starts to put in other pet names, like pretty, peach, toots and dollface.
bakugou, whos mood visibly changes once your in the room, and starts to only working on projects with you and starts genuinely looking forward to hanging out with you.
bakugou, who starts to realize that maybe he might actually like you, maybe even LOVE you. he starts to realize the little things, like how soft your lips feel when you kiss his cheek, how you're kissing his cheek to begin with, since he asked you to keep PDA minimal and you didnt want to push his boundaries
bakugou, who decided he only wanted to date you until the girl from your internship moves on, but once she does he decides he wants to stay with you as long as possible, even if its fake
bakugou, who starts to forget you aren't actually dating, and when hes leaving your dorm after a study session says "bye princess" and kisses the corner of your lips, and only realizes what happened until a little after he pulled away and proceeded to speed out of your room and slam his door, leaving you a blushing mess
bakugou, who doesnt leave his room all weekend out of embarrassment, until you call aizawa to give you a spare key to his room and you barge in forcing him to talk
bakugou, who is genuinely speechless when you admit you fell for him too, and how you found the way he would pretend to not care and proceed to give you everything you'd ever need endearing, and how he'd always have a hand on you when you're in public, in a sort of subtle possessive way made your heart beat faster than normal
bakugou, who asks you out officially, and takes you on a date you couldn't even imagine yourself, who starts to cook for you more and starts to make sure everyone knows you're his
bakugou, who expressed his love through acts of service, and his actions double once you're official. who was really uncomfortable the first time you asked to cuddle with him, was hesitant, but did it anyway to make you happy, and gets addicted to cuddling with you, to kissing you, to the sound of your voice, to hearing "katsuki" come out of your mouth, to hearing you talk about things you're passionate about, to your presence, and gets grumpy when youre not around, and asks himself why he hesitated in the first place
when it’s bedtime (also code for bakugou going to bed while you watch some netflix because he goes to bed way too early) you’re wrongly sitting on the edge of his bed in your silk nightie with lace trim on the phone. you’re talking to one of your friends and he’s finding it very annoying. it’s bed time!!! go to sleep!! with me!! is what he’s thinking but nope you’re calmly chatting away, playing with the ends of your clothing.
so he does what he does best, kneeling before you and pecking your knees and thighs. has you shivering a little because it tickles and it’s a very nice sight to have infront of you. his big strong shoulders, so muscled and wide, in his little comfy sleep shorts and his lips are so plush on your skin. you lean back on your bed, still on the phone and he grunts.
it’s only when he nibbles on your thigh, the pain making your eyes widen so you rush to end the call. you huff as he chuckles against your thigh. “you’re so needy katsuki.”
The quick glimpse of something moving in the corner of your eye, the long shadow looming at the foot of your bed in your dark bedroom late at night, eerily shaped like that of a man. Only for you to flip on the lights to see nothing. Everyone knows that feeling and everyone knows it's just a trick of the mind.
But what if it wasn't? What if it was real?
What if the monsters weren’t contained to just scary daydreams and nightmares? What if the real monsters are the ones you see when your eyes are open? Passing the stranger on the street? Your neighbor with the charming smile or even the one you haven't noticed yet. They've noticed you.
Are you brave enough to look deeper, closer at the thing that goes bump in the night without seeking the haven of light?
Or will you do as you've always done and passively turn the other cheek?
Come closer and discover the things that go bump in the night are the least of your worries, when the real terror is right in front of you.
Are you brave enough to shed light on the darkest of things under the Halloween moon?
Troupes and Characters pending, even so the story will be so frightful you won't be able to stomach it. Live Halloween Noon to Night
Please read the warnings of each post thoroughly as you enjoy the haunts and humps. These works are for adults only, 18+! Minors, blank, and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT! Or be cursed ever more!
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.
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.”
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
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.”
“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.
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.
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.”
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.”
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.”
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.
“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.”
So, this is another image that kinda goes with the previous one I made with the kids, but the time-line and situation of the reader is different.
Your future kids jump in time, ok? However, until they understand what's going on and understand the situation, their presence in your current time-line is massing up with your mind.
Let's say you have a quirk that is related to the five clairs, which are way more enhanced compared to a normal human. Since your future kids are now breathing and living in your present time, your clairvoyance is confusing the future with the present. The messing up starts immediately, although you don't notice it.
Like, you're sitting in class, taking notes for the final test of your third year, and you get this weird feeling of being way older then you are, yet you brush it off as nothing. When you go back to the dorm with the girls and they propose to go to a nearby bakery, you accept. Everything is fine until you see one pastry in particular that catches your attention, and tell the cashier to pack that one.
"Y/n, if you keep eating you'll get sick"
"Oh no, is not for me" you smile, handing the cashier the money "It's Hanabi's favorite" taking the wrapped package you turn to look at your friends, that are sporting confused expressions.
And now is your turn to be confused, because why was Mina asking you about someone you didn't know?
"I don't know? I don't think I know someone with that name. Why are you asking?"
"You said that the pastry is for Hanabi"
"No?" You look at the bag, now more confused than ever. "I said that it's for me, to eat later"
"But you just said-"
And the debate keeps going until you reach the dorm, where Kaminari tries to snatch the pastry, failing miserably.
"It's not for you, hands off!"
"Please? You girls already ate some at the bakery! Just a spoon?"
"It's not gonna work. You can try asking Hanabi to share but good luck with that."
"For the last time, I don't know!" By this point you're growing exasperated, not only had Mina bothered you with the subject, but Ochako, Momo, Jirou, Tsu and Hagakure too. You don't need more classmates press on the same subject. "Why do you keep asking me about Hanabi? I already said more then a hundred times that I don't know her!"
Your friends are still watching you with widened eyes, wondering what was going on with you. Then Bakugou, makes his appearance.
"Oi, witch, people are tryna relax, tone it the fuck down"
You sigh, taking off your shoes. "Sorry Babe, they keep pressing on who this Hanabi is and it's stressing me out" your oblivious ass didn't notice how Bakugou turned into a stone, eyes wide as plates.
"The fuck did you call me?"
You look at him. "Bakugou?"
"No, no. You called me 'babe' "
"Why would I?"
"You tell me"
"Can we please not fight, I can already feel a migrane-"
"Are you tryna pick a fight or sum'?"
"Bakugou please, I'm tired, tomorrow we can fight, ok? Now, just, let's go to bed, I'm not in the mood" you're ready to head over the stairs, only to turn again to look at him.
"Do we still have some lavander tea? The ones we bought from that cute shop?"
"The fuck are you talking about?"
"The shop near the station? We went together and bought different assortments of teas?"
"With who did you go?" Mina asks, carefully looking you up and down. You look at her, then back at Bakugou.
"We went there last week?"
Now, Bakugou is not one to get concerned by his classmates, but you are actually worrying him.
"Did you hit your head?"
"No? I-" you stop for a second thinking. You went to a shop... with Bakugou? The image in your head, the day spent with him was incredibly real in your head, kind of like a memory. But realistically speaking, since your first year you've never hang out with Bakugou alone, so why was your memories playing tricks?
"I think I need to sleep... good night"
Now, the next day, it's even worse. It started wrong as soon as you finished washing up and headed toward the common room.
Because you strolled in, tiredly fixing your hair, and went toward the kitchen, where Bakugou was cooking breakfast. What shocked not only your classmates but also Bakugou, was the backhug you gave him.
"Smells good, what are you making?" And if that wasn't enough of a shock, you kissed his neck, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Waffles? That's not enough for the kids, babe" you dip your finger into the caramel he made, and tasted it before placing the cooked Waffles on the nearby plate.
"It's too sweet, but good" you turn to look at him and again kiss him, this time on the cheek. "Are the kids up yet? Itsuki has been oddly quiet tonight..." You look upstairs, as if expecting your kids to jump down, yet to you horror, realize that you're at the dorms. In high school. And you're wrapped around Bakugou Katsuki. A Bakugou Katsuki that looks beyond shocked.
"Oh lord...." You jump away from him, horrified, and turn to leave, only to see the faces of your friends matching yours staring at you two.
"Y/n... what... what was that?"
"I don't know? I really don't know! I thought he was my husband and, I- mistake- I swear-"
"Husband?" Bakugou manages to rasp out, now forgetting the Waffles to march toward you.
"I mistook you for my husband! I'm not saying you are!"
"How the fuck did you mistake me for your husband?"
"I don't kno-"
"And since when are you fucking married?"
"Then why the husband shit?"
"I'm sorry! I don't-"
"You kissed me, two times!"
"Oh my goodness, I- I-"
"Y/n" Aizawa is the one to intereupt the banter, he too having witnessed the scenes. His eyes shifted from Bakugou's red ears to your mortified expression, and for a moment he wanted to tell his student to just 'man up and ask her out' but decided against.
"Let's have a word"
"Is she in trouble or what?" Bakugou snapped, eyes narrowing on the teacher. Teenagers.
"No." He noticed his shoulders relax, and not rolling his eyes never felt so challanging. "Let's go to my office. Just Y/n alone." He added, eyeing Bakugou.
And then the kids enter the chat. And everything makes sense: your quirk acting up, the husband thing, Hanabi, Itsuki. Everything makes sense.
But now, you have to explain the situation to your classmates, since the kids are vehement on calling you mom in this time-line. But classmates aside, how will you explain all of this to Bakugou Katsuki?
Ok but I fucking love the idea of God of War! Bakugou falling in love with Goddess of Life! Reader but not being able to express his feelings bc of his role.
The man in charge of so much death and despair for his own amusement stumbling upon the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen silently crying in their haven as she re-sows burnt crops, sends rain to cease the flames that burned villages, and redirects lost children back to their family. She weeps because she knows that as part of her life, she must always be shadowed by Bakugou since Bakugou is a reflection of mankind. As long as there is man, there is war. As long as there is war, there is Bakugou.
He feels kinda shitty about it because he’s never had to look at the aftermath of his doings; victorious feasts of rich meats and wines always came after leading corrupt leaders into battle. Seeing something so divine weep over something so fragile makes his stony heart twinge a little. He knows he can never approach you fully to court you because of your destinies. It kills him inside, so he might reconsider starting that war over a stolen pig.
HELPPPPP WHAT IN THE FORBIDDEN LOVE/UNREQUITED LOVE/ANGST/GREEK GOD AU/COLD-TURNED-SOFT/BAD BOY X GOOD GIRL IS THIS 😭😭😭
You’re the hope women and children pray to in times of war, watching over their trembling figures as they clutched their shaking hands together and wept your name.
Nurturer of Battlefields, hear me!
Mother of Light, hear me!
Lady of Spirits, hear me!
Let your children live through the destruction of men!
Oh Goddess of Life, hear me!
Now save your children!
Nights they’ve spent, whimpering chants to you while their fathers and brothers and husbands and sons fought under the other watch of another god. It was either one side of women and children captured and raped when all their soldiers fall, or the other side safe with abundance of stolen goods.
What could you do but to let the god of war decides for himself—and you’re left to weep as fallen men rot to death on their own land; unable to enter the gates of the underworld as they wander Earth as silent souls.
Victory was taken while loss hammered the damned to death, a side of women and children were safe while the other is left to be enslaved to the people who killed their lands.
While on the other hand—bloody red eyes and golden blonde hair, the god of war celebrates the wins he’d side with. People would offer sacrifices of slain bulls and goats and goods for the aid of his on their side; humankind would do anything to not be killed.
Songs and chants were written to him every night as they offer their offerings, singing about how the strength of Bakugou is worth 5 thousand of the strongest warriors.
He had enjoyed victories for centuries while your tears turn into rain that put out the fire of burning cities. He cheered through blood that splattered all over his golden armour while your tears washed dried red off of the grass of battlefields.
Slowly as time went by, prayers to you by the women in hiding ceased. After all, centuries of prayers did nothing for their land. It was all in the hands of Bakugou—the god of war.
Lord of Destruction, hear me!
Lord of Fallen Cities, hear me!
God of War, hear me!
Now pity the lives of us and bring us victory!
Lord of Slaughter, hear me!
Slay the damned enemies!
They’d pray and pray, with clutched hands and hopeful eyes. And you’re forgotten as the nurturer of battlefields.
At last, when the men were planing to burn all their fiend’s offsprings and wives alive—you discarded the dignity of a goddess and knelt in front of Bakugou. Rain poured as you pled for the lives of the innocent.
The war god had seen mortal being bowing beneath him, kiss his feet as they cried for their lives. But it was a first for a goddess to kiss his hand as she begged for mere mortal lives. You were almost powerless beneath his strength.
Humans could live but war was bound to happen. And he was bound to shine as marble statues in temples.
That was the tragedy. War can only end if life simply never existed; and you were the true mother of war.
It was only because you were a fellow god, he thought, impossible to kill that he no longer is appeased with the killing of women and children—and the Lord of Destruction would send thunders that struck huts and horses if he was angered.
Soon, Bakugou finds himself spending his days when he’s not battling in the quiet temple of yours. He would disguise himself as a bird, resting on a tree that runs with your holiness. Your tenderness and warmth for humanity were rare amongst the Gods and Goddesses, and he finds the epitome of beauty in that.
But what could he do with his heart? He birthed war and you begged against it. He thirsts for blood and you use your tears to wash it away. Mortals pray to him for the befall of their own kind and they pray to you for the lives of their children.
The both of you were never supposed to be destined. So all he could do, with his heart that beats feelings for the Lady of Spirits, was simply watch afar at your marble statue in your temple and listen to your weeps as yet another city burns.
Could you make a part two to the daddy issues with bakugou story? Like maybe deku or todoroki, or even kirishima take his place as a father figure and he has to deal with that? Like heavy angst on his part but hecka amount of fluff for the reader and daughter?
You asked and shall receive! :)
–> Part 1 to this imagine.
NOTE: I chose Todoroki for this request, hope that's alright.
Bakugou first sees you with him while he's on patrol. Kirishima is talking his ear off about something but his focus is on you and how you tuck a strand of your hair shyly behind your ear.
At first, he thinks it's a coincidence. You with... him. So, he doesn't think much of your meeting with Todoroki and soon enough, he forgets about it.
What makes him change his mind later, is the photos, taken by those nosy bastards and then, the multiple articles that flood his feed. They are everywhere. The articles, the photos of you and Todoroki eating dinner at some fancy restaurant, him giving you a bouquet of flowers and walking together in the park, him picking up your daughter from UA–
Picking up your— his daughter, from UA?
What the fuck?!
Bakugou's wife tries to assure him that it's probably nothing and reminds him that he shouldn't care. And so what if his ex is dating again? He has a wife and a son who love him very much. He shouldn't care. He knows that. It's not like he doesn't love his wife or anything, but..
He does cares. He cares and he cares a lot because he regrets what he did to you sixteen years ago. He regrets leaving you. He was young, afraid and stupid and it's his fault that things are the way they are now. He acknowledges that. He'd hoped to talk things out with you and apologize but now with Todoroki...
It's not that he doesn't want you to be happy but now, how will he manage to apologize with Todoroki in the middle? How will he manage to make things right with you?
God knows how much he wants to make things right with your daughter but it's not like she allows him to. He tries and tries but to her, he's nothing but a stranger, a pest and everytime he calls to see how she's doing and she calls him "Bakugou-san", the pain doubles, especially when he first sees the photos of her and Todoroki spending time together.
Now that Todoroki's in the picture, will she start calling him dad instead?
Warnings: 18+ mdni. established relationship. fem!reader. aged up kat. anal.
a/n: i finally gave in and wrote this filth, ok. it's been on my mind for a while, please forgive me lol.
THE moan Katsuki lets out is guttural.
He’s sweating like crazy on top of the navy blue sheets as he pants, the lust-driven look in his eyes purely male. Releasing a small sigh, the freshly-turned twenty-six-year-old smirks at the feverish warmth to surround him by the time his heavy cock sinks fully inside you.
Being balls deep inside your tight ass is pure bliss. All lubed up and twitching in delight to really relish the lewd birthday gift you give him every 365 days, and which he's so very impatient to receive, Katsuki doesn't mind at all that he's one year closer to thirty as he chuckles and shoves himself even deeper carefully.
The short "Hah... Fuck yeah, baby." is purely derisive by the time his entire length experiences the pleasant tightness of the tiny hole you don't allow him to fuck all that often. You're all stretched out as you accept him. He's so lucky.
You squeak when he pushes further inside you slowly; sweat-coated body trembling in the firm reverse cowgirl position he holds you in. Your legs are squeezed together and bent at the knees. He's pushing them further against your chest with the help of his rough hands resting on the back of your thighs, just so that he can actually impale you on his fucking cock. You feel like you're going to explode from how badly he wants in, in, in.
"Ki," you whisper, brow furrowing at the pang of hot ache to sear through you when he angles himself better and pushes even further. "Easy, baby. I-I know you're excited, but... We gotta take it sl-... Oh, my fucking god, s-slow...! Go slow, baby. Please."
"Mhmmm, goin' slow and easy, pretty... Anythin' y'want," he replies dazedly. His words have nearly become an incoherent slur and twist of tongue from how good you're making him feel, but all the bitter liquor he's drank at the small get-together you've surprised him with - and which he pretended he hated - might be one to blame as well.
After all, the vanilla cake you got him for his 26th birthday was sickeningly cute on purpose; entirely covered in rich buttercream icing and drizzled with colourful sprinkles, which he swears gave him a headache whenever he looked at them for too long.
You've event went as far as to make him blow out the candles that had been propped up in the middle of the giant scribble of icing, spelling out a dramatic: ‘Happy birthday, Katsuki!’ in bright red colouring.
All of it is clearly a symbol of your loving, albeit taunting relationship - he knows it is. You buy the stupid cake for him just to be a menace every year, but he still ate every last bite of the giant piece you handed him at his super secret surprise party - the one that isn't even that much of a surprise, after the third annual time it's happened - even though the bridge of his nose wrinkled in annoyance during the entirety of him chewing the silly thing.
The presents he received from his friends were okay. The texts that kept making his cell phone beep were annoying. The long phone call he had to endure from his mother and father so that they could congratulate their son on turning one year older in his outrageously busy life was outright pesky. Truth be told, Katsuki felt low-key thankful by the time his birthday at long last came to an end and he was able to drop his tired body into bed.
But he feels good now - getting to do anal with you. So good, in fact, that he'd even consider enduring all of the birthday antics you tend to pull on him as some twisted form of a sick joke. Actually, he'd let you watch him suffer in his little party hat, and would let you take photos of him blowing out the shitty candles, if it meant that he would be spoiled rotten like this at least once every few days, every week, every month, every year; not just on April goddamn 20th.
He's just that greedy. That horny for that tight peach of yours.
"Ah, fuck... Ki!" You whine now; this desperate, prolonged sort of sob that yanks him right out of his thoughts as you say, "You feel s'big inside me... So, so big."
"It's 'cause you feel so damn good, babe," he compliments in reply, the tone of his voice so utterly strained. "You've got me s'hard that it makes my fuckin' dick hurt." It's true. He's ready to bust a nut so embarrassingly quick from how good it feels. It's a lucky thing that he's as stubborn as he is to resist it.
There's a wildfire in your eyes that he knows is there, despite that he can't see it when you grit out, "Well, your dick hurts me!" It hurts me so good.
"Yeah?" he says, unable to wipe the crooked, lazy grin from his face now. His hands grab a better hold of your thighs, calloused fingers digging deep into the plush flesh so that he can keep you still when you start to squirm. "Well, it ain't my fault you've got such a fuckable ass, huh? I wish I could see how pretty you look like this... With my dick up your pretty ass."
You're about to bite back a snarky remark, though nothing comes out except for a slutty moan the moment his thick fingers find your clit. A waterfall of filthy curses he rarely hears you voice leave your pouty lips and stick to ceiling of your shared bedroom at the divine friction he gives you now. It seems that he isn't the only one that gets to be spoiled this year.
He starts to rub lazy circles on the cute, sensitive button - all languid and precise, until the hole that's empty of him starts to flutter in response, and you begin to beg him to start pounding into you so that you can be filled up to the brim with his warm seed as soon as possible. The anticipation makes your legs literally shake. You're barely able to keep it together - and this fast, too.
Katsuki listens to your high-pitched pleas that grow both in fervour and necessity as more and more time passes. He's mindful as his hips begin to rut into you, keenly listening to the lewd squelching noises the lube produces with that heavy pat, pat, pat, and your heavy breathing when he gets an even better angle and strikes home. The clench you give him in response is so potent that he's about ready to lose his fucking mind.
The entire room smells like caramel from how much he's sweating. Salt is literally dribbling down both of his temples, but he still keeps going. He just can't stop. Not when you're about to cum from having his big, fat cock inside your ass.
"Gonna-... Gonna cum soon! Fuck, fuck, fuck - I-I'm so close, Kat."
"Yeah? I gotcha, baby... I gotcha. Imma take care of you. Gonna make you cum, promise."
Your curves jiggle against his abdomen as you take his dick like a fucking champ and keep on bouncing; nearly squealing in a pitch so high it makes his ears hurt when he pinches your puffy clit and turns you so overstimulated that you're nearly ready to squirt and gush all over him. As you squeeze your eyes shut and tip over the edge only minutes later, plunging into an orgasm of a different kind, that you only dare to experience once a year as a treat for your brute of a boyfriend.
He follows not a moment after you've floated up into the heavens and turned brain-dead. Everything feels fuzzy inside your mind as he fills you up with his cum and lets out another broken moan and a grunt of an especially nasty curse, but the warm ropes of white are pleasant as they coat your walls. You can tell he's been barely withholding his own climax; the entirety of his body feels so stiff and hot underneath you. Even his jaw is clenched so tightly that it clicks when he snaps it shut. It's just a different kind of experience, after all. Everything is more intense, hence why his eyes are rolling back and his head is sent tipping into the mattress.
"Maybe-... Fuck, oh my..." You suck in a sharp breath to recollect your buzzing thoughts as the words fade away into silence and you stick to his heaving chest until you're practically glued together. He's cummed so much that his cum leaks out of you even if he's still inside you, dick slowly going soft and tender. The milky release is drooling right down to his balls by the time you finally manage to finish your sentence, "Maybe we should take a picture next year, mm? Since you wanna see me so bad."
"I'd like that," he whispers quietly, pulling you closer and kissing your naked shoulder gently. "I'd like that a whole fuckin' lot, baby."
It's true. Katsuki may not like being the birthday boy and the attention it brings, but it’s different when he gets to spend it with you. The presents you give him on his birthday are always the best, after all.
To say that can barely wait for the one he'll get for his 27th would be an understatement.
CHARACTERS ➥ bakugou katsuki :: midoriya izuku :: todoroki shouto :: aka me being down bad for the big three
BEFORE YOU CONTINUE! this work contains the following tags/warnings: nsfw content, f!reader, established relationship, casual sex, public sex, not angsty but not fluffy at all, all characters portrayed are adults. HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE
NOTE: this is just me trying something new while stuck at home for the weekend.
When KATSUKI wakes, it’s due to the feeling of warm and soft hands trailing up his body. You start low on his hips, moving over the small trail of blonde hair on his stomach before making it to the destination of the shiny pink scars on his chest. His hands grip yours once he feels you fondle him, squeezing around what you insist on calling his ‘tits’.
“Fuck are you doin’?” His voice is heavy with sleep, letting only one eye open to glance at you from above. You look adorable (though he’d never admit it) hard nipples poking underneath what he recognizes as his t-shirt and your eyes shining in your own mischievous way. You must have known he would wake up, knew he’d stop you once you traveled too far. Your arrangement was simple, quick fucks here and there when you were stuck on a mission together. Nothing serious, no strings attached.
“I just wanted to see if you were awake, baby.”
“Well, I am, so get the fuck off me.”
You frown at this but quickly regain your composure. “You’re so mean, Katsu,” the grip on your wrists has loosened enough that you’re able to start touching him again, squeezing his perky flesh and letting your thumbs graze over his nipples. He lets out a hiss and leans up to stop you, but you press down on his chest until he’s flat against the mattress. He could easily push you off of him, but he doesn’t.
“…Stop fucking around, y/n.” But you don’t.
As a matter of fact, you press hot opened-mouth kisses all over him, making sure to give extra attention to every scar. You make a show out of it, giving your best performance with every bite and lick. This is far too intimate and Katsuki knows he should put an end to it — but then your mouth presses against that sweet spot on his neck, the place only you have been able to weaponize against him and he can’t stop himself from tugging your mouth to his own, fingers tangling into your hair. You are rust and stardust, an addiction that Katsuki doesn’t know how to let go of.
He chooses to ignores the way you start to smirk against his lips.
IZUKU tugs at the lace material on your hips, nimble fingers pulling them off of you with such gentle care that you almost giggle. You decide against it in hopes that you won’t scare him away. He was just so nervous, worried that one wrong move would make you want to back out of this. Never mind the fact that his face was smothered in your breast only moments before.
When your panties are finally down to your ankles, the man in front of you leans in eagerly to get a taste, but your hand lands on his head, dark green curls forced between your fingers. “Slow down, baby,” You feel him shiver at the pet name, “I need you to do something else for me.”
He looks confused when you pull your panties off of your ankles and dangle them in front of his face. “I want you to stroke your cock with these while you eat my pussy.” You watch in real time as Izuku’s expression goes from confusion to shock, cheeks turning such a pretty pink as he leans up again until you’re face to face. You can’t help but smile at the view.
He is so unbelievably handsome, his chest decorated with freckles and sharp lines. You’d give anything to run your tongue along his ridges, taste the saltiness of his skin with the muscle. Instead, you lean in closer and start to press gentle kisses against his neck, unable to ignore the way his grip on your thigh tightens from the contact and how his hips press into yours. His cock is firmly molded against your pussy and you’re almost certain that you feel him twitch at the contact.
“Oh,” you tease, “did I get your pink little cock that hard already? If you touch yourself with my panties I doubt you’ll be able to hold on.”
“I will!” He insists, his voice a bit too loud. Your hand moves to slap over his mouth. The walls of your apartment were thinner than most. You slowly ease your hand from him and the desperation in his voice almost makes you want to do it again. “I-I’m- Fuck. S-Sorry. Just-“ His pretty green eyes are glossy now and he reaches over to your once discarded panties, gripping the wet material in his scarred hand and wrapping it around the base of his cock. “Please just… Kiss me there again.”
SHOUTO let’s out a deep groan when your mouth presses against his neck, easing deeper into his office chair as you make your way to his ear and nibble on the flesh. You are definitely teasing him now, having surprised him at his agency again and opting to jump him as soon as possible (as opposed to pretending to bring him lunch this time.)
If his father saw the two of you now, you’re sure he would have a fit. With everyone gone for lunch, it was unlikely that they would be able to start a wave of gossip about his son and his lover. There had been one too many times that you had heard Endeavor go on about how his son needed to find someone more suitable. A backwards way of saying someone who had a quirk to pass on.
A hand firmly grips your chin and you’re pulled away from the skin of your boyfriend’s neck, a small trail of saliva following you. Shouto’s eyes are the same grey and ocean-like blue that they have always been and yet they look darker, meaner. When he looks at you, you can see the tip of his tongue peeking out between his teeth, gliding against them before dipping back into his mouth.
On the days where his father’s comments get to you, your boyfriend would help you forget the best way he knew how; by burying his cock into your warmth and making you his until hot cum was sticky and wet between your thighs. But he couldn’t possibly expect you both to do that here, right? Not when a glance at the clock showed that his coworkers would be back any minute.
With the way his hands now slide down your shoulders and grab onto your tits, your suspicions are confirmed. “S-Sho! Baby, they could hear us.” You try not to flinch away when you feel the tips of his hair tickle your forehead, his eyes staring deep into yours as he pins you between him and the desk.
The sound of a heavy belt hitting the floor causes a dull throb between your legs.
Just horny thoughts :) smut, semi public sex, with degradation and choking <3
Note: If you liked this, let me know with an ask! I am always looking for new friends <3
In the middle of an 'all hallows eve' party and you are in an alleyway, skin slapping and rough fingers on your clit. Sweet, sweet degradation spews into your ears through raspy breaths and mumbled curses.
"Wanna look like a slut? Fine. You can get fucked like one too." you whine, as tears roll down your cheeks as your legs quiver,
"M'sorry!" you cry, he doesn't listen, smacking your ass with a hiss
"Shut up, sluts don't get to talk." You whimper, tears falling just tad faster when he grips a fistful of your hair and pulls you back towards his chest.
He pulls your dress down, palming your tits with the hand not holding your neck. He leaves open-mouthed kisses over your shoulders, and the hand fondling your boobs moves down to circle your clit, an impending orgasm making you claw at his hand around your neck.
"Fuck! Please, m' gonna cum!" you scream, your legs quaking on your tippy toes. Your pretty little whimpers and teary puppy dog eyes overpower the thumping rhythm of the music, and while you wait for permission he leans in and captures your lips with a kiss.
"Go 'head babe."