everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

because i'm evil, pro hero! katsuki avoiding you after giving you backshots just because the poor baby had feelings for you :((

it’s been days. days since you last spoke. days since that night.

since he touched you like you were the only fucking thing that mattered and then, like cowards, you both just... disappeared.

you hadn’t spoken. you hadn’t really spoken. not in a way that mattered. all the little things—the bickering, the late-night conversations, the stupid arguments—it had stopped.

you’d become ghosts to each other.

so now, here you are, marching straight into the locker room after hours, footsteps echoing off the walls, heat rising to your face and fists clenched tight.

simply because, you couldn't take it anymore.

because despite the quiet, despite the harsh avoidance, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you was always tugging you back toward him.

even now, when you were furious, when the bitterness burned through your chest like a furnace, you couldn’t resist the pull of him.

katsuki's sitting on the bench, half-dressed, toweling off his sweat, when he hears your boots stomp in. his eyes narrow as they meet yours in the mirror.

“oh, look who decided to show up,” he drawls, voice low and sharp, like he was expecting this. “finally ready to grow a pair?”

you scoff. loudly. “you ignored me first, jackass.”

“no. i fucked you first. then you ran.”

your mouth drops open, heart lurching in your chest. “you—are insufferable!”

you march right up to him, getting in his face. “you really think that’s what this is about? that i’m mad about the sex?”

he smirks. “well, i did blow your back out, so i figured you’d need a few recovery days.”

you slap his towel off his shoulder, fury boiling over. “you fucking coward!”

his smirk falters.

“you knew exactly what you were doing,” you hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. “you touch me like you mean it, kiss me like it matters, and then pretend like nothing happened. like it wasn’t real. just sex, right? just scratching an itch?”

“i didn’t pretend shit,” he snaps back, standing up so the two of you are chest to chest. “you’re the one ignoring me like i was some fuckin’ mistake!”

“you are! one i can’t stop thinking about!”

the two of you are breathing hard, voices sharp and heated, until something catches your eye.

you glance down. ...and freeze.

your words get caught in your throat when you notice it—very, very obvious through the thin fabric of his sweats.

he’s hard.

“...are you kidding me right now?” you whisper, stunned. “you’ve got a boner—in the middle of us yelling at each other?”

katsuki groans and runs a hand through his hair, frustration tugging at every muscle in his body. “you-you think i like this? you think i like being hard whenever you so much as look at me?”

you take a step back, face flushed. his eyes are burning into you now, voice rough but lower.

“i’ve been like this for days,” he grits out. “couldn’t train right. couldn’t sleep. couldn’t even jerk off without thinking about you—your face, your voice, that smart-ass mouth...”

you blink, stunned into silence.

“and it’s not just about the sex, alright?” he mutters, quieter now. “i keep thinkin’ about you after. the way you looked at me when i kissed you. the way you said my name. the way you held onto me. like you wanted more.”

you swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry.

“i didn’t know what to do with that,” he says, almost hoarse. “didn’t know what it meant. scared i’d fuck it up if i said something, so... i said nothing. and that was worse.”

the silence between you stretches. you’re staring at him, your heart pounding. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. so instead, you just do the only thing that feels right.

you step forward and kiss him. hard. hot. angry. desperate.

and when he kisses you back—hands tangled in your hair, mouth slanting over yours like he’s starving—it’s not just lust anymore. it’s a confession. it’s an apology.

it’s everything you were both too fucking stubborn to say.

when you finally pull back, breathing hard, you look up at him and mutter, “you’re still a coward.”

he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “yeah? deal with it.”

you sigh, cheeks burning. “only if you fuck me stupid in the shower.”

his grin is wicked. “oh, you’re gonna regret sayin’ that.”

you tried to deflect with your usual sarcasm, a smart remark perched on your tongue—but it didn’t make it past your lips when he looked at you like that.

like he meant it. like you weren’t just a fight and a fuck to him.

he pulled you into the private bathroom of his office at the agency—some high-end, sleek place with dark marble walls, chrome fixtures, and a rainfall showerhead that must’ve cost more than your rent.

the moment the warm spray hit your skin, the heat from earlier didn’t dissipate. it deepened.

steam curled between you, trailing along your neck, between your breasts, down the bruises he left on your hips.

you turned away, hiding your face beneath the water. embarrassed. overwhelmed. because you weren’t supposed to feel like this, and pretend it mattered.

but he followed you in, body pressing up behind you, arms bracketing your hips with surprising gentleness.

“…you okay?” katsuki murmured, his voice low and husky but softer than before. no teasing, no cocky smirk. just that raspy, raw tone of someone who wasn’t used to asking.

you nodded quickly, too quick, like a liar. “i’m fine.”

“you’re shaking.”

you didn’t have a response to that. not one that made you sound strong. so instead, you gripped the tile, your body still humming from him, from the kiss, from everything.

he kissed your shoulder. then the side of your neck. his hands didn’t grab—they rested on your waist, rubbing soft circles into your skin like he was memorizing you. every slow pass of his thumbs up your ribs made your breath catch.

“you always run your fuckin’ mouth,” he muttered, lips against your damp skin. “…but you’re real quiet now.”

you felt his cock rock-hard against the small of your back, thick and hot, pressed to you through the water.

your stomach flipped.

“this is different,” you whispered. it wasn’t supposed to be this slow. this… intimate.

“i know.”

he pulled your hair back from your face, gentle fingers smoothing it behind your ear, the same hand trailing down over your collarbone, cupping your tits like he needed to feel the weight of it in his palm.

his thumb circled your nipple slowly—so slowly it had your knees wobbling. then he twisted it, just enough to make you gasp and lean into him, your back to his chest.

“let me take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “don't treat me like i’m some kinda mistake.”

“you are,” you breathed, trying to hold onto the fire in your chest, even as it softened under the drag of his hands down your belly.

he chuckled low. “liar.”

his fingers dipped between your thighs, parting your slick folds under the warm water. he groaned when he felt how wet you already were.

your breath hitched. “you gonna tease me now?”

he kissed your cheek, smirking against your skin. “nah. just wanna make you cum with my fingers first.”

and he did. oh, fuck, did he.

he sank two thick fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them just right, his other hand palming your tit, lips dragging down your neck between sweet praises and filth.

“god, you’re tight… fuck—grippin’ my fingers like this, princess? you wanna milk my cock again, don’t you?”

you whimpered, your forehead pressed to the tile as your legs threatened to give out. his fingers thrust steadily inside you, a little faster, a little deeper, until your thighs trembled and your orgasm of the night crept up quick and sharp, exploding through you like wildfire.

you came with a strangled gasp, collapsing back against him. he held you up, letting you ride it out, brushing your hair back and kissing your temple.

he didn’t even ask for anything in return. but when you turned to face him, your hand sliding down his abs, eyes soft and nervous and needier than you wanted to admit, he let out a shaky breath like you were the one taking him apart now.

“…want me to take care of you too?” you asked, voice quiet.

katsuki stared at you. then kissed you again. slower this time. softer. it knocked the air out of your chest. and even though your body was still trembling, you wanted to give him something in return. something that said you felt it too, even if you weren’t brave enough to say the words.

you kissed down his jaw, his throat, lingering on the spot just under his ear where you felt him shiver. then lower.

he let you push him gently back against the tile, water streaming down the hard lines of his chest and abs, that cock of his already flushed and twitching with need.

“fuck, you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you cut him off softly, meeting his gaze as you sank to your knees, the shower floor warm beneath you. the look on his face—half disbelief, half pure, wrecked hunger—sent a bolt of heat through your stomach.

you started slow, like he did with you.

fingers curling around the base of his cock, you dragged your tongue from root to tip, tasting the water, the salt of his skin. he hissed through his teeth, one hand flying to your wet hair, fingers tightening, not to control you—but to ground himself.

you licked again, swirling your tongue around the head, teasing the slit. his thighs tensed.

“shit… that mouth,” he groaned, his head hitting the tile behind him with a dull thud. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

you smiled, smug now, and took him into your mouth slowly—inch by inch, stretching your lips around the thick, heavy weight of him. his breath stuttered above you, hips twitching, but he didn’t thrust. he let you take your time.

you hollowed your cheeks, letting your tongue press along the underside, dragging back with a soft slurp that had him groaning your name.

“god—you’re… you’re too fuckin’ good at this.”

the praise made you moan around him, and that vibration nearly broke him. his fingers gripped tighter in your hair as you bobbed your head, slow and deep, letting your throat relax as he slid further in.

when you gagged slightly, he cursed and tried to pull back.

but you held him there, hands on his thighs, eyes locked on his as you swallowed him down again, slower this time, more controlled, until your nose brushed his skin and he choked on a groan so wrecked it made you ache.

“you’re—shit, you’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess, sweetheart.”

he wasn’t wrong. your spit mixed with precum and the water, dripping down your chin, pooling at your knees. but you didn’t care. not when he was looking at you like that, mouth slack, chest heaving, completely undone.

you pulled back with a pop, stroking him with your hand as you caught your breath, tongue flicking over the tip just to hear him curse again.

“you close?” you asked, voice sweet, lips swollen.

his jaw clenched, eyes dark and desperate. “y-yeah. but i wanna—shit—i wanna cum inside you. please.”

the “please” broke you.

and just like that, you were rising to your feet, mouth brushing his as you whispered, “then fuck me again, katsuki. right here.”

and oh, he did.

your breath caught when his arms wrapped around your thighs and he lifted you like it was nothing—like you weighed nothing to him. one second you were kissing him, wet and needy and pressed to his chest, and the next your back hit the slick shower wall, legs wrapped around his waist, his broad hands locking under your ass.

“you—oh my god—how are you so strong?” you gasped, blinking at him through the mist and steam, your heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

he smirked, water dripping from his hair, running down his sharp cheekbones. “tch. i’m a pro fuckin’ hero, baby. lifting you is the easiest thing i’ve ever done.”

and fuck, that cocky glint in his eye paired with the way he adjusted his grip on you—rough, protective, possessive—it made your stomach flip and your cunt clench around nothing.

“but—i’m—this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his neck, suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. you were flushed everywhere. cheeks, chest, even your ears were burning. “you’re making it hard to keep pretending i hate you.”

he chuckled low in his throat, tilting his head so his lips brushed your temple. “think we're way past that, sweetheart.”

and with that, he shifted his hips and slid inside you in one smooth, maddening thrust—deep, slow, thick enough to make your mouth fall open in a silent cry. your legs trembled around his waist, your arms flung tight around his neck, trying to stay upright even though he was already holding all of you.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice strained. “you feel so good.”

the stretch, the angle, the sheer depth of him like this—it was too much and not enough, and all you could do was hold on. moaning brokenly into his shoulder as he rocked into you, strong hands gripping you like you were something precious.

“you always act so tough,” he murmured against your jaw, hips snapping harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the tile. “but look at you now. wrapped around me. so fuckin’ sweet.”

“sh-shut up,” you whined, but it had no heat. your voice cracked with every thrust, and you could barely keep your head up, overwhelmed by the way he filled you, the way he held you.

you bit his shoulder. he kept fucking you like you were his favorite sin.

he grinned, that cocky little smirk barely hiding how wrecked he looked too, water running down his temple and jaw. “did i ever tell you.. how i’ve been fantasizin’ about fuckin’ you like this... since the first time you called me a dickhead?"

your heart pounded, chest tight with flustered disbelief. “you’re so—god, you're so rude.”

“yeah?” he said, grinning against your neck. “still let me pick you up though. wrap those thighs tighter around me, sweetheart. let me feel how much you want it.”

you whined. you actually whined, heat flooding your face as your thighs clenched harder around his hips.

you were barely holding on—your nails dug into his back, legs trembling around his waist as he fucked you into the wall like he owned you. each deep, hungry thrust had your head spinning, the water pouring over you both doing nothing to cool the heat blistering through your body.

he was grunting low in your ear, panting against your neck, his arms tightening under you with every bounce of your hips on his cock.

“katsuki—” you gasped, the name tumbling out desperate and ruined.

“fuck, baby,” he growled, forehead pressed against yours. “you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight—gonna make me lose it.”

your entire body was strung taut with want, soaked in heat and steam and the friction of him pounding into you like he couldn’t get deep enough. your mind was blank, blissed out on the way he stretched you, hit every single spot just right—and then some. you were breathless, trembling, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it felt, how full you were.

“inside,” you whimpered, eyes wide and shining. “katsuki—please, i want it inside.”

he stilled for half a second, eyes dark and blown wide as his jaw flexed. “you know what you’re askin’ me for, baby?”

“yes,” you breathed, pressing your forehead against his, kissing the corner of his mouth. “i want it. want you to fill me up. like you promised.”

his groan broke into something feral, primal, possessive—his hips snapping forward with even more force now, like he had something to prove.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it then,” he growled, his grip bruising now as he chased his high. “gonna fuckin’ breed you."

“katsuki, please—cum inside me,” you cried, legs tightening around his waist, your whole body clinging to him. “i need it. i need you.”

that was it. the growl he let out was deep and broken as he buried himself to the hilt and let go, warmth spilling inside you as he groaned your name like a curse and a prayer. his hips jerked through it, milking every last drop, and you swore you felt it—every pulse, every throb, every ounce of him claiming you from the inside out.

and even as you trembled in his arms, breathless and dazed, he didn’t let go. didn’t pull out. just held you there, lips brushing your temple.

your back hit the cool tile as he finally, finally set you down, though your legs still felt like jelly. you leaned against the shower wall, blinking up at him with glassy, dazed eyes, the water still cascading down both your bodies in lazy rivulets.

and then you saw the way he was looking at you.

katsuki’s gaze dropped between your thighs, where his cum was slowly starting to leak out of your swollen, sensitive pussy. he watched, utterly transfixed, like he’d never seen anything so perfect. his tongue darted across his bottom lip, chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths.

“shit,” he muttered, almost reverent. “look at that.”

“don’t look,” you mumbled, trying to press your thighs together, shy despite everything. “you’re making it weird.”

“the fuck i am,” he said, stepping closer again, voice low and smug. “that’s me, baby. all of it.”

his fingers grazed your inner thigh, pushing your leg aside so he could see more clearly. the way his eyes darkened sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin' for me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “could watch this shit all day. you takin’ me so deep—beggin’ for it—and now look at you.”

“katsuki,” you said, voice small, your face burning now.

he leaned in, his mouth brushing your ear. “you got no idea what this does to me. how good you look with my cum leaking outta that pretty pussy.”

you whimpered, fingers gripping his arms to steady yourself, flustered beyond belief. you tried to hide your face against his neck, but he caught your chin, tilting your head back so he could see just how red your cheeks had gotten.

“aww,” he teased, grinning now. “you shy now? after you begged me to cum inside like a fuckin’ good girl?”

“katsuki,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

the teasing faded as soon as he saw your shiver. maybe it was the water cooling down, or maybe it was the aftershocks making your body tremble, but either way, katsuki's expression shifted. the heat in his eyes softened—still intense, but now threaded with something gentler.

“hey,” he said, brushing a hand over your soaked hair. “c’mere.”

you let him pull you close again, resting your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat grounding you. his arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand smoothing down your back as the water pattered around you both.

“you okay?” he asked, dipping his chin to meet your eyes.

you nodded, a little dazed, a little overwhelmed. “yeah. just… floaty.”

“mhm,” he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “stay here. let me take care of you.”

you blinked, looking up at him. “you’re gonna…?”

“yeah, dummy,” he muttered, though his thumb was gentle as it traced the curve of your jaw. “i made a mess. least i can do is clean you up.”

he reached for the body wash, pouring a little into his palm before lathering it gently between his hands. then he started with your shoulders, massaging in slow, careful circles. down your arms, your back, and over your hips, like he was memorizing every inch of you again—except this time it wasn’t about lust. it was soft, reverent.

“i didn’t hurt you, did i?” he asked quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. “no. i liked it. a lot.”

a low sound rumbled in his chest, but it wasn’t cocky this time. it was something closer to relief. pride. love.

“good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your jaw as he lifted your arm to wash underneath it. “you tell me if anything ever does hurt, yeah? i don’t care how hot you think it is, i need to know.”

“i will,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as he rinsed you off, careful not to let the suds drip into your eyes.

katsuki crouched to wash your legs next, his hands warm and firm as they moved over your calves. when he reached the inside of your thighs, he hesitated—then looked up at you.

“you okay if i…?”

you nodded, cheeks still warm.

his touch there was gentle, as if washing away what was left of him inside you was a sacred task. when he was done, he stood and pulled you into his chest again, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“we should do this more often,” you mumbled sleepily.

“the fuckin’ in my office part or the shower part?” he asked with a grin.

“both."

he chuckled low. “yeah, baby. me too.”

and then he just held you there, under the steady stream of water, hands slow and soothing as they traced lazy paths up and down your back. like he could wash away the world if you asked him to.

by the time he stood again and wrapped you in a towel, you felt like your bones had turned to honey. he dried you off with the same quiet focus, then pressed another kiss to your temple.

“let’s get you home,” he said, voice gruff but warm. and he carried you out of the shower like you were the most precious thing in the world.

he helped you into his car, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back as he guided you gently into the passenger seat.

you were still wrapped in his agency hoodie, legs bare beneath it, your damp hair tucked behind your ears. he didn’t say much on the drive—just kept his hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing small circles, eyes flicking to you every so often like he couldn’t believe you were real.

you were sleepy, soft, and still buzzing from the high and the aftercare.you were already turning to say goodbye, your voice still soft from the come-down of everything, when he cleared his throat.

“wait.”

you looked up. he was rubbing the back of his neck, eyes suddenly everywhere but your face. for once, bakugo katsuki looked awkward. bashful, even.

“i’ll let you rest,” he muttered, lingering in the doorway like he didn’t wanna leave. "you need anything, you call me. don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”

you looked up at him, still flushed, still wearing that stupid little dreamy smile he’d put on your face.

“you staying?”

his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. he looked like he wanted to say yes. but instead, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “nah. i want you to sleep."

he looked up at you, brows furrowing slightly like he was second-guessing whatever he was about to say. but then he exhaled through his nose, almost like a sigh.

“go out with me.”

your heart skipped. “huh?”

he scratched at the back of his neck, still trying to play it cool. “a real date. dinner. a movie—shit, nevermind, movies are stupid. a walk in the damn park. somethin’ that doesn’t involve us stripping in my agency’s damn shower.”

you blinked, then snorted. “we’re doing this backwards, y’know.”

“what?”

“we already slept together and saw each other naked in broad daylight, and now you’re asking me out?”

he gave you that grumpy little scowl—eyes glinting, jaw tight. “yeah, well, guess i figured i’d get the scary shit outta the way first.”

you grinned, stepping forward until your fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt. “bold strategy.”

“shut up.”

“i didn’t say no.”

his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up. “so that a yes?”

you leaned in, kissed his cheek—soft and slow. “yeah. it’s a yes.”

for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, he didn’t have a smart-ass comment ready.

just a bashful smile with red ears, and the promise to pick you up friday at 7.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ part one ! ]

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ AHHHH i must confess i honestly hate doing part twos because im scared they'll never live up to the first one😭 im so happy i get more time to write now omgomg, i FINALLY might be able to clear my bazillion drafts teehee 😝 hope you guys enjoyeddd💗💗

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

Could you please do the following <333 you giving katsuki a massage after training, helping him work on his knots and him being unapologetically vocal about it, you end up giving him a hand job lol, whispering to him praise  

Unwinding

Katsuki groaned as he collapsed onto his bed, muscles aching from an intense training session. His bare back glistened with sweat, golden skin taut over corded muscles that twitched from overuse. He had pushed himself too hard again, refusing to stop until every fiber of his being screamed for mercy.

You sat beside him, hands already working their way up his back, thumbs pressing firmly against the knots that littered his shoulders. His body tensed at first, then melted beneath your touch as a deep, guttural moan escaped his lips.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasped, head lolling to the side. His usual bravado was stripped away, replaced by raw vulnerability as your fingers dug into his sore flesh.

“Always so tense, Katsuki,” you murmured, voice a soft caress against the shell of his ear. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

He exhaled sharply, another moan slipping from his lips as you applied more pressure. “Shit—right there, baby. Harder.”

You smirked, indulging him, pressing deep until his breath hitched. Every groan, every strained expletive sent warmth pooling low in your belly. The sound of him unraveling beneath you was intoxicating. His fists clenched the sheets, body arching into your touch as you kneaded out every stubborn knot.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered, letting your lips graze against his flushed skin. “So strong, so perfect.”

His breath hitched, and you felt the shift in the air, the tension morphing into something else—something desperate. Katsuki turned his head slightly, half-lidded crimson eyes locking onto yours, burning with something deeper than just relief.

“Keep talkin’ like that,” he growled, voice husky with want.

Your fingers drifted lower, featherlight against the dip of his spine before tracing the defined muscles of his lower back. He shuddered beneath your touch, and when your hands found their way to the waistband of his shorts, he let out a breathy curse.

“You’ve been working so hard,” you cooed, slipping your hand past the elastic, fingers wrapping around his already half-hard length. He hissed at the contact, hips bucking instinctively into your grip. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, voice tight as you began stroking him, slow and teasing. His body trembled beneath you, muscles quivering under your touch. Every gasp, every needy grunt made your core tighten, made you crave him even more.

“You feel so good, baby,” you praised, lips ghosting over his ear. “Let me make you feel even better.”

His breathing turned ragged, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he growled, but there was no real bite behind his words—just pleasure, raw and unfiltered.

You tightened your grip just slightly, twisting your wrist in a way that had him gasping, burying his face into the pillow to stifle the obscene noises spilling from his lips. But you wouldn’t let him hide from you.

“Let me hear you,” you urged, voice dripping with wicked satisfaction. “I love the sounds you make.”

And he did—unapologetically. His moans were deep, guttural, shaking with pleasure as you worked him over, whispering filth and adoration into his ear. It didn’t take long before he was falling apart beneath you, coming undone with a strangled groan, body tensing one last time before collapsing into blissful exhaustion.

As he caught his breath, he turned his head slightly, a lazy, satisfied smirk curling at his lips. “You’re too fuckin’ good to me.”

You pressed a kiss against his damp temple, fingers trailing soothing patterns over his skin. “Only because you deserve it.”

And maybe, just maybe, he’d let himself believe it.

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

Write me a fic with Katsuki x fem reader where you think he hates you but he actually has the biggest crush on you. Describe how it shows. No love confessions, reader is completely oblivious.

Hating Loving You

You were convinced Bakugo Katsuki hated your guts. There was no other explanation for his behavior.

Every time you walked into the room, his scowl deepened. His sharp crimson eyes would narrow in your direction like you were an annoying fly buzzing around his head. He never spoke to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and when he did, his words were clipped, laced with irritation. And God forbid if you ever so much as glanced in his direction during training—he’d immediately roll his eyes and turn away like the mere sight of you was offensive.

You didn’t understand it. You had never done anything to him. You were polite, you treated him just as you treated everyone else, and you even cheered for him during matches, just like you did for all of your classmates. And yet, whenever you so much as breathed near him, he acted like he wanted to launch you into the sun.

But what you didn’t see—what everyone else saw—was the way Bakugo Katsuki’s hands clenched into fists whenever someone else made you laugh. How his jaw ticked when Kaminari slung an arm over your shoulders, or how his explosions became just a little too aggressive when you excitedly talked to Kirishima after a sparring session.

You didn’t notice how he always ended up standing near you, even when he had no reason to. How he was the first one to react when you got hurt during training, barking at Recovery Girl to hurry up, his hands twitching with barely restrained worry. How his gaze softened—just a fraction—whenever he caught sight of you, before he quickly masked it with another scowl.

You missed how he always made sure you had a seat near him during meals, even if it meant glaring at someone else until they moved. Or how he always paired up with you during exercises, grumbling under his breath but never once letting you get the short end of the stick. How he paid attention to the little things—your favorite snacks mysteriously appearing in the dorm common room, your training gear always being placed neatly on your side of the locker room instead of in a messy pile.

You were oblivious to the way his ears turned pink whenever you smiled at him, to the way he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away quickly, afraid of letting you see the effect you had on him.

But the rest of the class saw it.

“Oh my God, she has no clue,” Kaminari groaned one afternoon, watching as you waved cheerfully at Bakugo, only to receive an aggressive scoff in response. “How is she this blind?”

“She probably thinks he actually hates her,” Mina whispered back, snickering when Bakugo’s eye twitched at your obliviousness.

“She’s an idiot,” Bakugo muttered under his breath, scowling as you turned back to your conversation with Jirou. But the scowl didn’t reach his eyes, not really.

No one bothered to tell you the truth. They figured you’d find out eventually—when Bakugo finally snapped and did something about it. But until then, they were more than happy to sit back and watch the show.

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

hello could you perchance do bakugo with a reader that is oblivious/ doesn’t get hints so he has to be very forward??

No More Hints

Bakugo Katsuki was not a patient person.

In fact, he prided himself on being the opposite of patient. If he wanted something, he worked for it. If something pissed him off, he dealt with it immediately. If people annoyed him, he let them know.

But you—you—had somehow turned him into the most exasperated person alive.

And the worst part? You didn’t even realise it.

For weeks, he had been trying. Dropping hints. Making an effort—something he didn’t do for just anyone. He gave you his leftovers at lunch, waited for you after training when he could’ve left ten minutes earlier, and even toned down his usual barking insults when it came to you.

He had never worked so hard in his life.

And yet, you still looked at him with that same clueless smile, acting like he was just being a nice friend.

(Him. Nice? Were you even listening when he spoke?)

At first, he figured you were just taking your time, maybe making him sweat a little. That was fine—he liked a challenge. But then, after weeks of nothing, he started to suspect the horrible, gut-wrenching truth.

You weren’t ignoring his hints.

You genuinely didn’t see them.

Bakugo was this close to losing his mind over it, but he still told himself, just a little longer. Maybe you’d finally catch on.

But that fragile hope shattered the second you told him that Monoma had asked you out.

It happened at lunch, the usual chaos of the cafeteria surrounding your table.

“You know Monoma?” you said, poking at your food as if this was just another casual topic. “He invited me to some café this weekend. The one with all the different desserts? I think I might go.”

Bakugo’s chopsticks snapped in half.

Denki’s head jerked up from his plate. Kirishima’s chewing slowed. Mina’s eyes widened. The entire table, sensing danger, collectively froze.

Except for you, of course.

“You good?” you asked, blinking at Bakugo like he hadn’t just committed a murder on his utensils.

His jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. “You’re tellin’ me… that you’re gonna go out with that extra?”

You tilted your head. “I mean, yeah? He’s kinda dramatic, but he’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad—” Bakugo sucked in a sharp breath, trying—and failing—to control his temper. “Are you actually this stupid?”

Denki flinched. Mina grabbed Kirishima’s arm.

“What?” You frowned, genuinely confused.

Bakugo slammed his hands on the table. “I’ve been droppin’ hints for weeks! And you’re out here talkin’ about goin’ on dates with some wannabe knockoff?”

You blinked. “Wait… hints?”

“Oh my god.” He shoved himself up from his seat, chair screeching against the floor.

Before you could react, his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to your feet. The whole table—and half the cafeteria—watched as he dragged you out the door without another word.

Nobody stopped him. Nobody dared.

You didn’t protest as Bakugo pulled you through the hallways, his grip firm but not painful. He was practically radiating frustration, each step filled with the kind of determination that usually preceded an explosion.

He didn’t stop until he found an empty classroom.

With a huff, he released your wrist and turned to face you, eyes burning with something intense.

“Alright,” he bit out. “Since you don’t get hints, I’ll say it so even your dumbass can understand.”

You waited, heart pounding.

Bakugo took a deep breath, as if bracing himself.

“I like you, dumbass.”

Silence.

Your brain short-circuited.

“...What?”

His eye twitched. “Are you serious?”

You stared at him, stunned. “I—You—What?”

Bakugo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

You scrambled for words. “Wait, so all that stuff—the training, the food, the weirdly nice comments—was because you like me?”

“YES.”

“Ohhh.” You blinked. “That makes so much sense now.”

Bakugo gave you a look like he wanted to throttle you and kiss you at the same time. “You’re killing me.”

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Sorry, I just—I really didn’t realise. I thought you were just, y’know… being friendly?”

“I’M NOT FRIENDLY.”

That… was fair.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling warm. “So… all this time, you were waiting for me to figure it out?”

“YES.”

You considered this. Then, with a teasing smile, you poked his chest. “Wow, you must really like me if you put up with all that.”

His face exploded into a blush. “Shut up.”

You grinned. “But you do like me.”

Bakugo scowled, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he crossed his arms, shifting slightly. “Yeah, well… what’re you gonna do about it?”

You hesitated.

Then, before you could overthink it, you stepped closer—close enough that he tensed, eyes flickering down to your lips before snapping back up.

“Well,” you murmured, “I was gonna go to that café with Monoma…”

Bakugo’s glare intensified.

“…But I think I’d rather go with you.”

For a second, he just stared at you, processing. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist again—only this time, he pulled you against him.

Your breath hitched.

His other hand found your jaw, tilting your face up as he leaned in, voice low and rough.

“Damn right, you are.”

And when he kissed you—hard and possessive, like he’d been waiting for this—you finally got the hint.

(About damn time.)

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

hii, could you please write about katsuki x fem reader and how they just casually revealed their relationship to the class (eg. him cooking and sleepy reader comes down casually in his clothes or sum??) thank youu!!

A Sleepy Surprise

The smell of something delicious fills the dorm common area, making a few of Class 1-A’s students pause in their morning routines. You groggily stretch under the warm blankets before realizing that your usual alarm—Bakugo’s grumbling—has been replaced by the distant sound of something sizzling in a pan. The enticing aroma of food drifts up to your room, nudging you awake despite the sleep still clinging to you.

Without much thought, you pull yourself out of bed, rubbing at your eyes as you shuffle toward the door. Bakugo’s hoodie is the first thing you grab, slipping it over your head, the fabric swallowing your frame comfortably. The scent of him, something warm and familiar, lingers in the material. You don’t bother changing out of his sweatpants from the night before, the waistband cinched just enough to stay up, though the legs are too long and drag slightly as you walk.

Still half-asleep, you slowly make your way down the stairs, guided by the promise of food. As you step into the common area, a few voices murmur, but you barely register them. Your focus is entirely on the kitchen, where Bakugo stands at the stove, flipping a pancake with effortless precision.

He barely glances at you as he shifts the frying pan to another burner. “Sit down. Food’s almost done.”

You hum sleepily in response, dragging yourself to the counter. The class, however, goes completely silent. It’s the kind of silence that feels heavy, like everyone is holding their breath, waiting for something to explode.

You miss the wide-eyed stares, the way Denki nudges Mina, who claps a hand over her mouth, or how Kirishima’s brows shoot up in surprise. You’re too busy resting your head on your folded arms, the warmth of the kitchen lulling you back toward sleep.

“Smells good,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep.

Bakugo scoffs, setting a plate in front of you. “Yeah, yeah, hurry up and eat before you pass out on the damn table.”

You grab your fork without a second thought, taking a bite of the food he made just for you, savoring the flavors as your brain slowly catches up with the world around you. "This is amazing, 'Suki."

The explosion of noise is almost immediate.

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT.” Denki practically screeches, making you wince. “Did she just—Did she just call him—?”

“‘SUKI??” Mina gasps, hands on her cheeks. “OH MY GOD.”

“Are you two dating?” Iida asks, pushing his glasses up in pure disbelief.

Bakugo turns his sharp crimson glare on them, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “What, you extras deaf or somethin’? ‘Course we are.”

A chorus of “WHAAAAAT?!” erupts from your classmates, ranging from Kirishima’s proud laughter to Mineta’s dramatic wailing about life being unfair. You just blink sleepily at the chaos, still munching on your breakfast like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Momo clasps her hands together. “Well, I must say, I’m happy for you two! Though… I am surprised. How long have you been together?”

“Eh, a while,” Bakugo grumbles, flipping another pancake. “Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Uraraka gasps. “A while?! And you never told us?!”

You finally look up, rubbing your eyes. “Didn’t think we had to?” you mumble.

Kirishima grins, throwing an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “Bro! You should’ve told me! I could’ve given you relationship advice!”

Bakugo smacks his arm away. “Yeah, like I need advice from your dumbass.”

Sero chuckles. “Man, if she wasn’t literally sitting there in your clothes, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“I dunno, I think it’s kinda cute,” Mina says, nudging you with a knowing smirk. “Our little firecracker is all soft for you, huh?”

You smile sleepily, still too drowsy to feel embarrassed. “Yeah,” you admit easily, making the class erupt in more screams while Bakugo grumbles about everyone being too damn loud.

But he doesn’t deny it.

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

Hii could u write smth like bakugo x deaf reader, like he learns sign language for the reader and they date x

Louder Than Words

Your world had always been silent. Not quiet, not peaceful—just silent. The kind of silence that stretched endlessly, where vibrations and flickering lips were your only clues to what people were saying.

Most people fumbled around you, tripping over their words, their expressions tight with awkwardness when they realized you couldn't hear them. They would over-enunciate, speak too slowly, or just outright avoid talking to you. You had gotten used to it.

But Bakugo Katsuki was different.

You noticed it the first time you met him in the halls of U.A. He didn’t look at you like you were fragile. He didn’t look frustrated when you didn’t react to the loud explosion he set off in a training exercise. He just looked at you. Like you were normal.

That should’ve been your first clue.

At first, Bakugo didn’t know how to communicate with you. He was loud, brash, and relied on his voice more than anything. But when Kirishima explained that you were deaf, something shifted in his expression.

"Shitty Hair, how the fuck am I supposed to talk to them then?" Bakugo had grumbled, arms crossed over his chest as he scowled.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, they read lips really well, but learning sign language would help a lot, man."

"Tch. That sounds like a pain in the ass."

But then, a week later, you caught him practicing.

You were sitting in the common room, scrolling on your phone when movement caught your eye. Bakugo was standing near the kitchen, his face scrunched up in concentration as he looked down at his hands. He was signing. The movements were rough, imprecise, like he was still getting used to them, but you understood instantly.

"Hello. My name is Bakugo."

He fumbled through it, fingers stiff with unfamiliarity. When he noticed you staring, his face turned an alarming shade of red.

"The hell are you looking at?!" he barked—then immediately scowled because he realized you couldn't hear him.

You smiled, amused. Slowly, you signed back, "Good job. But relax your hands."

His scowl deepened, but you could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

From that moment on, Bakugo made it his mission to learn.

He practiced in secret, watching videos, forcing Kirishima to help him. You’d catch him muttering under his breath while signing, brows furrowed in deep focus. He hated getting things wrong, but he hated not being able to talk to you even more.

The first time he held a full conversation with you in sign language, you almost teared up.

It was late at night, and you were sitting outside on the dorm balcony. The stars were bright above you, and the night was calm—until the glass door slid open, and Bakugo plopped down beside you.

"What are you doing out here, dumbass?"

You blinked, stunned. His signs were stiff, but completely understandable.

Smiling, you signed back, "Watching the stars. What are you doing here?"

Bakugo huffed, looking away. "Wanted to check on you. That a problem?"

Your heart swelled. "No. I like it."

He turned to look at you then, crimson eyes soft in a way you weren’t used to seeing. He hesitated for a second before signing, "I like being here with you."

From that moment, everything changed.

Bakugo didn’t just learn sign language for you—he used it. He’d sign insults at you in the middle of class, smirking when you fought the urge to laugh. He’d grumble in sign when he was annoyed, muttering under his breath at the same time.

Kirishima started calling him "Bakusign" because of how much he did it.

You fell for him fast.

And then, one day, he asked you out.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. He didn’t even seem nervous—just determined, like he had already made up his mind.

He found you after training, sweaty and exhausted, but his hands were steady as he signed, "Go out with me."

You blinked, your heart jumping to your throat. "Like… a date?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, dumbass, I’m asking you to be my goddamn battle partner. Yes, a date."

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too wide. "Okay."

His mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a grin. "Good."

Then, after a second, he added, "I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice."

Dating Bakugo was a unique experience.

He still cussed like a sailor, but he always made sure you could understand him. If he was talking too fast for you to read his lips, he’d slow down (grumbling the whole time). If you didn’t catch something, he’d repeat it without complaint.

And if anyone dared to treat you differently because of your deafness?

They didn’t last long.

Kirishima still swears he saw Bakugo grab a guy by the collar and snarl, "They’re not fucking broken, you extra. Don’t talk to them like they are."

You had never felt more loved.

One night, you and Bakugo were sitting in your room, curled up under a blanket. He had his arm around your shoulders, scrolling on his phone, while you leaned against him, completely at ease.

After a while, he put his phone down and turned to you, his expression serious.

"I wanted to tell you something."

You raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

His hands hesitated, then he exhaled sharply, like he was getting rid of his nerves.

"I love you."

Your breath caught.

Bakugo looked at you like his whole world depended on your answer, like he had just handed you his heart and was waiting to see if you’d break it.

With trembling fingers, you reached up and signed back, "I love you too."

His shoulders relaxed, and for the first time, Bakugo Katsuki smiled.

Not a smirk. Not a cocky grin.

A real, genuine smile.

And then, he kissed you.

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

HIII, I have a request for bakugo, like he dates shy and quite reader in his class as a dare from the bakusquad but then ends up falling for her, and then reader finds out by like maybe overhearing a conversation or something? and its all angsty but alot of grovelling later she forgives him and then happy ending?

Dared to Love

You weren’t sure how it happened, really. One day, Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t paying you any mind, and the next, he was suddenly everywhere.

At first, it was subtle. Sitting next to you in class even when there were plenty of open seats, grumbling a “Yo” when you passed each other in the halls, waiting for you after training, and even offering (well, more like insisting) to walk you back to the dorms.

Then, it escalated.

He started carrying your books when you looked tired, scowling at anyone who tried to make you uncomfortable, and even snapping at his friends when they teased him about being “whipped.”

You were hesitant, at first. You weren’t used to the attention, especially not from someone like Bakugo. He was loud, brash, and explosive, while you were quiet, reserved, and liked to keep to yourself. You weren’t sure why he was suddenly so interested in you, but when he asked you out—eyes burning with something fierce and determined—you couldn’t say no.

And it had been good.

Better than good, actually.

Bakugo, despite his rough edges, had been a surprisingly attentive boyfriend. He never forced you to talk when you didn’t want to, always let you set the pace, and even found ways to communicate without words, like casually bumping his shoulder against yours when he wanted to get your attention or grunting in a way that somehow made perfect sense to you.

You had been happy.

Until today.

Until you overheard everything.

It had started as a normal evening. You had been on your way to the common area, planning to grab some tea before heading back to your room, when you heard the familiar cackles of Kaminari and Sero from the lounge. You weren’t planning to eavesdrop, but then you heard your name.

And then—Bakugo’s voice.

“She was just a dare, man. That’s how it started.”

Your feet froze mid-step.

Kaminari whistled. “Damn, bro. So you actually went through with it?”

“Hell yeah! We dared him, and he actually asked Y/N out!” Sero chimed in. “Didn’t think he’d stick with it this long, though.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Dare?

Your stomach twisted.

This had been a game to them?

“Hah?” Bakugo scoffed. “Like I’d back down from some shitty dare. I ain’t a coward.”

“Dude, that’s so messed up.” Kirishima’s voice was quieter, almost disapproving. “You’re still with her, y’know?”

“What, you think I don’t know that?” Bakugo snapped, and for a second, you thought—hoped—he was about to deny it. That he was going to say something to make it better.

But then—

“It was supposed to be a joke, but she was all shy and cute and shit, so I just—kept going with it.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

The voices blurred together after that, but you had heard enough.

More than enough.

The warmth you had felt with Bakugo, the comfort, the safety—it had all been a lie.

A cruel joke.

And you were the punchline.

You turned on your heel and walked away before they could hear you.

Before you could cry.

You started avoiding him.

You stopped sitting next to him in class, dodged his hand when he reached for yours, and refused to meet his eyes when he tried to catch your attention. You left training early, kept your conversations short, and when he came to knock on your door that night, you didn’t answer.

You weren’t sure if he knew why.

But he knew something was wrong.

On the third day, he finally cornered you outside of the dorms.

“The hell is going on with you?” His voice was rough, laced with frustration, but you could hear the undercurrent of something else. Worry. “You’ve been actin’ all weird.”

You didn’t answer.

“Oi,” he snapped, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

Your fingers clenched at your sides.

“I know about the dare.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bakugo stiffened. You saw the exact moment the words registered, saw the way his usually confident expression faltered—just for a split second.

Then, his jaw locked.

“Tch. So that’s what this is about.”

Your stomach turned.

That reaction. That tone.

Like you were just overreacting.

“I heard everything,” you continued, voice quieter now, but firm. “You only asked me out because of some stupid game. Because of a joke.”

His hands clenched into fists.

“That was before.”

You finally met his eyes, and the sheer intensity in them nearly made you step back.

“Before what?” Your voice cracked. “Before you decided I was good enough to keep dating? Before you felt guilty?”

Bakugo’s teeth gritted. “No. Before I realized I fucking love you.”

Your breath hitched.

His chest was heaving now, frustration and desperation bleeding into his words.

“Yeah, I was a dumbass. Yeah, it started as a dare. But I don’t—” His voice broke slightly, and he exhaled sharply before forcing himself to continue. “I don’t care about that anymore. I care about you.”

You shook your head, the pain still raw. “How am I supposed to believe that?”

His hands twitched, like he wanted to grab you but knew he shouldn’t. “Because I wouldn’t be fucking begging if I didn’t mean it.”

Your heart ached.

“I trusted you.”

Bakugo flinched.

And then—his shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he murmured, quieter now. “I know. And I fucked up. I really fucked up.”

For the first time since this all started, he looked uncertain.

Vulnerable.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? You wanna yell at me? Do it. You wanna punch me? Go for it. Just—” His voice wavered, and you realized, with a jolt, that Bakugo Katsuki—your brash, loud, fearless boyfriend—was terrified. “Just don’t leave me.”

Your throat tightened.

The silence stretched.

And then—

“I need time.”

His expression twisted, but he nodded, even if it killed him.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Okay.”

Weeks later, you finally gave him another chance.

It wasn’t easy. He had a lot to prove.

But he did.

He walked you to class without expecting anything in return. Waited for you after training, even when you ignored him. Stood outside your door every night just in case you wanted to talk, but never forced you to.

And eventually, you did.

Because as much as it hurt, you still loved him.

And when you finally held his hand again, after what felt like forever, Bakugo nearly cried.

“I dare you to never break my heart again.”

His grip tightened, warm and grounding.

“…Done.”

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐘! 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

t. shoto x reader

. ݁₊ ⊹⁀ word count: 444 . ݁₊ ⊹⁀ warnings: N/A . ݁₊ ⊹⁀ type: drabble, fluff

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would fix your uniform in case anything was out of place, even the tiniest thing, and allowed his touch to remain a second longer.

cheeky! shoto todoroki whose voice would drop an octave lower and lean in close to your ear to whisper something to you, even when not needed, just to see you shudder and he’d have a ghost of a smirk on his face.

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would casually throw a random compliment at you so he could see your flustered expression. “you look pretty today,” he said in a monotone voice. it was out of the blue . you blinked at him and felt your face heating up. he looked you up and down, almost as if feeling satisfied with himself, before going on about his day.

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would sit beside you, close enough that his thigh is pressed right against yours. close enough that he could not so subtly brush his arm against yours. close enough that when he turned his head to look at you, he could see every single feature of yours. his eyes would stay glued on your face until you turned to look at him too, only for him to look away once you do.

cheeky! shoto todoroki whose hand would come up to wipe off any crumb on the corner of your mouth after you ate something. his thumb thoughtlessly lingered on your bottom lip before he pulled away to act as if nothing happened.

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would sulk if you were to say no to something he wanted you to say yes to. “stop pouting,” you said while he averted his gaze.

“i’m not pouting,” he quietly huffed. you sighed before you gave in, “if i say yes will you stop moping?”

“yes.”

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would pretend as if he’d done none of these things only to then subtly tease you about your reactions. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he bluntly stated. your eye twitched, you were visibly exasperated. “uhm, yeah you do. you know when you- er..” you trailed off as you tried to put your words together.

“when i what?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

“you know!”

“i really don’t,” he said while he took a step closer to you. he stared at you, watching you fumble your explanation.

you waved a hand in dismissal, “nevermind.” the tiniest of a smug smile curved on his lips, a suspicious little glint in his gaze and he hummed.

“did it make you nervous?”

“so you did know!” you shouted, and all he responded with was a light chuckle.

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After one unforgettable shoot with Bakugo, you’re left unable to finish with anyone else—on or off camera. He’s the only one who’s ever made it real. When you run into him at a party, the sexual tension explodes, leading to a filthy, passionate reconnection that neither of you can shake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MATURE CONTENT 18+ Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, degradation + praise, light dom/sub dynamics, breeding kink references, creampie, soft aftercare, strong language, alcohol mention, sex industry themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8.2k (omg)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

You haven’t cum in weeks.

Not on set. Not in the shower. Not with the $300 vibrator your manager sent as a “self-care” gift. Not even with that one video you shot with Keigo—the one that used to always do the trick.

Nothing works anymore.

Every orgasm you fake now feels like a cheap knockoff. Just muscle memory. Fake moans, fake trembling, fake gasps as the camera zooms in on your face like it’s catching something real. You used to be good at this—great, actually. Made your name off it. You could sell pleasure better than anyone. But now?

Now it’s all broken.

Because Katsuki Bakugo had the audacity to actually make you finish. Not once. Not twice. But over and over until your voice was hoarse and your legs wouldn’t stop shaking. And the worst part wasn’t even how good it felt—it was how real it was. He didn’t just make you come, he pulled it out of you. Like he knew exactly what buttons to press, what noises made you unravel, what rhythm would keep you teetering right on that edge. And then he’d tip you over it like it was nothing.

And ever since then?

Every other guy has felt like cardboard. Even the good ones. Even the pros. You tried not to be obvious about it on set, but your heart’s not in it. Your body’s not either. You’re back to acting, and that just makes it worse. Because now you know what it’s like to actually feel it. To lose control. To not have to fake it.

He ruined you.

And you hate him for it.

Kind of.

Maybe.

You dream about him. That same low, hungry growl in his voice. The weight of his hands on your thighs. The way he looked at you after the cameras cut, like he knew. Like he’d figured you out and wasn’t gonna let you forget it.

And you haven’t.

You still haven’t.

Which is why this fucking party is the last place you want to be.

You stand outside the mansion in heels that and a dress that hugs you like sin, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Your manager’s text is still glowing on your lock screen:

Be nice. Good networking. Smile.

Yeah, whatever.

Keigo’s place is massive. Of course it is. He’s been in the industry since forever, and he’s got that kind of charm that makes people want to party with him. His invite list is basically the who’s who of adult film, plus a few influencers trying to act like they belong. You hate these things. Too loud. Too fake. Everyone pretending to be friends, pretending they don’t judge each other for who they’ve worked with or how many followers they have. It’s all for show.

Still, you walk in. You know how to play the game.

The place is packed. Low red lighting makes everything look softer, sexier. Music pulses through the floor, the bass low and smooth. You’re barely through the front door before someone offers you a glass of champagne. You take it and downs half in one go.

A few people wave at you. A few others eye you up and down, probably checking who you came with. You fake a smile, offer a nod, and keep moving. You’re not here to socialize. You’re not here to flirt or network or play nice.

You’re here because your manager told you to be.

You end up leaning against the edge of a fancy-ass velvet couch, letting the music drown out your thoughts. The champagne doesn’t help much. Neither does the way some guy you vaguely recognise is trying to start a conversation with you, talking about some upcoming project and how “you should totally collab.” You tune him out.

And that’s when it happens.

You feel it before you sees it. Like something in the air shifts. Like static on your skin.

Your spine straightens. Your fingers tighten around the glass.

And then—there he is.

Across the room. Leaning against the wall like he owns the place. Dressed in black, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rings glinting on his fingers. Blonde hair messy in that perfect, careless way. His eyes scan the crowd, bored and sharp all at once.

And then they land on you.

The breath catches in your throat. For a second, the music fades. The party disappears. It’s just him.

Bakugo.

His eyes narrow just slightly. Like he’s surprised to see you here. Like he’s not surprised that you look this good.

He pushes off the wall.

Starts walking.

Right toward you.

Your heart is beating way too fast. You hate that it is. You want to look away. Pretend you don’t care. But you can’t.

Because even now—especially now—your body remembers exactly what he did to you. The way he touched you. The way he looked at you. Like he wasn’t playing a part. Like it was real.

And worse—you know he remembers, too.

He stops in front of you. Doesn’t say anything at first. Just look’s at you.

Up close, he looks even better than you remembers. Like he’s been working out more. Like he hasn’t lost a second of sleep over you even though you haven’t stopped losing it over him.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” he says finally, voice low and scratchy.

“Didn’t think you’d be,” you shoot back, arms still crossed. Your tone is cool, but your pulse is sprinting.

He smirks. That same damn smirk that used to drive you crazy. Still does.

“Keigo dragged me,” he says. “Said it’d be good to ‘be seen.’ Whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds familiar.”

You stand there in silence for a second. The air between you is thick. Heavy. Loaded.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes drifting down to the drink in your hand. “You good?”

“Peachy.”

“Mm.”

Another pause.

Then he leans in—just a little.

“You fake it again today?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. You hate that he knows. Hate that he’s right.

You don’t answer.

He chuckles under his breath. Not mean. Just… smug. Like he knew it. Like he never had a doubt.

“I did,” you admit finally, voice tight.

He steps in just a little closer. Not touching you. Not yet. But you can feel the heat coming off him. The way his presence wraps around you like a damn trap.

“You try with someone else yet?”

You swallow hard. Your eyes flick away.

He already knows the answer.

“No one’s been good enough, huh?” he murmurs.

You wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Instead, you down the rest of her champagne in one go.

He watches you the whole time.

Still smirking.

Still standing way too close.

“Why are you here, Bakugo?” You asks, voice low.

His eyes drop to your lips. Then back up.

“Maybe I missed you.”

He says it so casually.

Maybe I missed you.

Like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t completely wrecked your life and walked away with a goddamn smirk.

You set your empty glass down, not caring where it lands. Your heart’s still hammering in your chest, but it’s not nerves—it’s need. Hot and bitter and building in your gut like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.

You don’t look away. Don’t soften. You just say it—because fuck it. What’s the point in pretending anymore?

“I haven’t cum since you.”

His smirk falters. Just a little. But enough.

“I’m serious,” you add, stepping closer, voice low. “Nothing works. Not my hands. Not toys. Not other guys. I film a scene and fake it like always, but it’s worse now. So much worse. Because now I know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Bakugo’s jaw tenses. His hands curl slightly at his sides, like he’s holding himself back.

You lean in, close enough that your words are only for him.

“You ruined me.”

His breath comes out sharp. Controlled—but barely.

“You think I don’t know that?” he mutters. “You think I haven’t been fuckin’ losing it, thinking about that day?”

He looks down at you, eyes dark and burning.

“You were the best thing I ever had in front of a camera. Fuck—probably the best I’ve ever had, period.”

Your stomach flips. Heat flashes under your skin.

“Every time I close my eyes,” he goes on, voice getting rougher, “I see you. Bent over, whimpering, beggin’ for it. You remember that? The way you sounded?”

You swallow, throat tight.

He leans down, lips brushing just behind your ear.

“Do you remember how wet you were when I spread you open?” he whispers. “How your thighs were shaking so bad I had to hold you down?”

Your knees nearly buckle. You grip the edge of the couch behind you, the only thing keeping you upright.

“I remember,” you breathe. “I can’t stop remembering.”

His nose grazes your jaw, not quite touching your mouth, but close enough that the air feels electric between you.

“I jerked off to that shoot so many times I lost count,” he says. “Watched it back with the volume turned all the way up. Had to bite my fuckin’ fist just to keep quiet.”

Your thighs press together. Everything in you is throbbing.

“I tried,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to fuck it out. Tried to touch myself. Tried to forget it.”

Bakugo pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy, lips parted.

“And?”

You shake your head slowly. “Didn’t work.”

His chest rises and falls a little faster now. You can see it. Feel it.

“I need you,” you say, honest and raw and a little unhinged. “Not even just your cock—you. The way you touched me. The way you talked to me. My body remembers you like muscle memory.”

He groans, low and quiet, like it slips out without his permission.

“You know what that does to me?” he mutters. “Hearin’ you say that? Standin’ here in that tight little dress, legs pressed together like you’re already aching for it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

“You want me to remind you what it feels like?” he asks, stepping in close again. His hand hovers near your hip, not touching, but so close. “Want me to bend you over that couch right now and make you scream my name again?”

Your breath shudders out of you.

“You want me to tell you all the things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of this fuckin’ party?”

You nod. Slow. Deliberate.

“Say it.”

You look up at him, eyes sharp. “I want you to ruin me again.”

His control shatters for half a second. His tongue runs across his teeth. His hands twitch at his sides like they’re desperate to grab you.

“You want my fingers down your panties, feelin’ how wet you are just from talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“You want my mouth on your neck while I tell you how I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget every other name you’ve ever moaned?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice wrecked.

“You wanna know what I’d do to you if I dragged you into one of those empty rooms upstairs?”

“Tell me.”

He leans in again, mouth right at your ear, his breath hot and filthy.

“I’d eat your pussy until your legs give out. I’d make you ride my face until you’re crying. And then I’d bend you over the bed and ruin that tight little cunt all over again. No cameras. No crew. Just you, screamin’ my name into the pillow like you need me.”

You whimper. Actually fucking whimper. Your knees almost give out.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes again, and his voice drops to a growl.

“Tell me to stop, or I’m taking you upstairs right now.”

Your eyes burn into his.

“I’m not telling you shit.”

He grabs your wrist—gently, but with purpose—and starts walking.

The music fades behind you as you two leave the main room, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and rough and so sure. It’s not forceful—never forceful—but it’s firm. Intentional. Like he knows exactly where he’s taking you, and you’re not even thinking about stopping him.

You follow.

Of course you follow.

The air in the hallway is cooler, quieter. Dim lights line the walls, casting long shadows, the bass of the party now just a distant thump behind closed doors. Every step echoes in your ears. Your heels click against the tile, but you barely hear them. All you can feel is his hand. His grip. The burn of his touch where your skin meets.

He’s walking fast. Focused. Like he’s barely holding himself together.

But then—he pauses.

Right in the middle of the hallway, without a word, he stops. Still holding your wrist, but frozen in place.

And then he looks back at you.

And fuck.

Your cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and glassy with heat. Your lips are parted, and you’re biting the bottom one like you don’t even realize it. Your breath is shallow. Your chest rises and falls way too fast. And you look—

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

It just hits him all at once.

The image of you like that—flushed, dazed, following him willingly down some dim hallway in a dress that barely covers your ass. Your mouth red from chewing on your lip, eyes shining like you want to be devoured.

It’s too much.

It’s way too much.

Bakugo turns around in one sharp move and pushes your back against the wall.

You gasp, more out of surprise than anything, and your back hits the cool plaster with a soft thud.

He doesn’t give you time to speak.

His mouth is on yours before you can breathe.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s a claim.

His lips crash into yours like he’s starved. Like he’s been dying for this. His other hand finds your waist, squeezing tight, pulling you flush against him until there’s not an inch of space left between your bodies.

And fuck, you melt.

You kiss him back with just as much heat, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer like you want to climb inside him. His mouth moves against yours with wild precision—like he knows exactly what you need and he’s giving it. All tongue and teeth and soft, filthy groans that vibrate against your lips.

His hand slips down to your hip, gripping tight. Your back arches. You moan into his mouth when his tongue brushes yours, and he growls—a low, guttural sound that sends heat straight between your thighs.

He pulls back for just a second, breathing hard.

“Been wantin’ to do that since the fuckin’ shoot,” he mutters, voice rough and wrecked.

You grab his shirt tighter, dragging him back in.

“Then shut up and do it again.”

And he does.

He kisses you like he needs it to survive. Like your mouth is the only thing that’s going to keep him sane. His hand slides up, fingers brushing under the edge of your dress, just a taste of skin, and you gasp into his mouth. He swallows the sound greedily.

Right now, it’s just him and you and all that fucking need you’ve both been drowning in for weeks.

Your hands are in his hair now, tugging, and he groans like you’re driving him insane. His lips trail down to your jaw, your neck, kissing and biting and licking like he wants to leave a mark—something real. Something that says mine.

“You feel that?” he growls against your skin, grinding his hips against yours. “That’s what you fuckin’ do to me.”

You whimper.

“You think I haven’t been aching for this? You think I don’t wake up hard, pissed off, because it’s not you under me?”

“Bakugo—”

“Say it,” he growls. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you,” you breathe. “So fucking much.”

He grabs your face, tilts it up, and kisses you again. Harder. Deeper.

He’s losing it. Right here, in the middle of some stupid hallway, with your hands on his chest and your mouth so fucking soft and perfect under his.

Fuck he was gonna wait. He really was.

One more hallway, maybe two. Find a room, lock the door, throw you on the bed and wreck you the way you’ve been dreaming about. But then his hand drifts lower, just a little. Just enough to feel the hem of your dress under his fingers. His palm slides up, slow and sure, bunching the fabric higher and higher until—

He groans. Loud. Filthy. Like it physically hits him.

“No fuckin’ panties?”

You flinch, just a little. Lips parted, eyes dark.

“Were you expecting something to happen tonight, baby?” he breathes, voice thick with heat. “You showin’ up like this just for me?”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Bakugo presses his forehead to yours for a second, breathing hard.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice low and ragged. “You’re my dirty little whore, aren’t you?”

You whimper.

“You come to this party all dressed up, no fuckin’ panties, already wet for me…”

His hands are on your thighs now, spreading them just a bit. Your backs against the wall, breathing like you just ran a mile.

“You wanted this,” he growls. “You needed this.”

And then—he drops to his knees.

Just like that.

Right there in the middle of the hallway.

The air leaves your lungs in a gasp. Your back hits the wall harder this time, legs shaking, heart pounding in your throat.

“Bakugo—” you hiss, panic in your voice. “Someone could see—!”

He looks up at you, eyes dark and fucking wild.

“Baby,” he says, voice calm and sinful. “You’re a pornstar.”

He licks his lips.

“Let them see.”

And then he’s between your thighs.

One of your legs stays planted on the ground, barely holding you up. The other—he lifts and hooks it over his shoulder, gripping tight behind your knee with one hand, keeping you open for him. Exposed. Spread. His other hand pins your hip to the wall like he’s afraid you’ll float away.

Then—

Then his mouth is on you.

He groans the second he tastes you, like he’s been dreaming of this moment. Like the taste of you is everything he’s been starving for. His tongue is hot and greedy, licking through your folds, lips sealing around your clit as he sucks, hard, and you cry out, hand flying to his hair for balance.

“F-fuck—Bakugo—”

He growls against your pussy, the vibration shooting up your spine like lightning.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy every fuckin’ day,” he mutters between licks. “You taste even better than I remembered.”

Your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, mouth open, chest heaving. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you know is his mouth—his tongue flicking and licking and circling your clit just right, dragging slow, wet moans from your throat that you couldn’t fake if you tried.

His fingers dig into the back of your thigh, holding you still. Your other leg trembles, barely keeping you upright. Your dress is bunched around your waist, forgotten, as he devours you like a man possessed.

“You hear yourself?” he growls, voice muffled against your soaked cunt. “You hear how fuckin’ wet you are?”

“Y-yes—fuck—”

He flattens his tongue against your clit and drags it, slow and firm, and you nearly collapse.

“You gonna cum for me like this, baby?” he asks, licking up your slit, tongue dipping in like he wants to taste every part of you. “Gonna make a fuckin’ mess on my face?”

You’re nodding, eyes wide, lips parted in silent gasps. Your hand’s gripping his hair so tight it must hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it.

“Thought about this every night,” he mutters. “Me on my knees. You fallin’ apart. No cameras. No crew. Just me eatin’ you out like it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

And it is.

God, it fucking is.

Your thighs are shaking. Your stomach’s tight. You’re right there, and he knows it.

So he goes harder.

Sucks on your clit like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, tongue flicking fast and filthy, relentless. Your legs nearly give out.

You scream his name.

And then you’re gone.

Your orgasm hits like a truck, ripping through your body as you cry out, nails digging into his scalp. Your leg twitches in his grip, your body writhing against the wall as you cum for the first time in weeks—for real.

Bakugo doesn’t stop. Not until he’s sure you’re done. Not until he’s sucked you through every last wave, tongue gentle now, soft little licks that make you squirm from the sensitivity.

He pulls back, panting.

His chin’s shiny. His lips are swollen.

And he looks fucking proud.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

You can’t speak. Can barely breathe. Your legs are jelly, your face flushed, your dress still hiked around your hips.

And he’s still on his knees.

Looking up at you like he owns you.

Like he always has.

You’re still trembling.

One leg weak, back still pressed to the wall, dress bunched around your hips and mouth parted in a breathless, wrecked little gasp. Your head’s spinning, body soaked in sweat and pleasure, but it’s not enough. Not for him.

Bakugo stays on his knees for a second longer, just staring up at you like he’s watching the aftermath of his own destruction—and loving every second of it. His jaw’s tight, eyes wild, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

Then he moves.

He rises slowly, all smooth, deliberate heat, and crowds you against the wall again, towering over you. His hand slips behind your neck and pulls you in, and his mouth crashes into yours—hot and messy, all tongue and teeth and need.

You moan into it. Loud. Desperate.

He doesn’t give a shit if anyone hears.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, making you taste herself. He kisses you like a man obsessed, like he needs you in his lungs to fucking breathe. His hands are everywhere—sliding over your hips, your ass, up your back, gripping tight like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you all over again.

“You feel what you do to me?” he growls against your lips.

You whimper when his hips roll into yours, and fuck—he’s hard. So fucking hard it feels like it’s about to tear through his pants. Thick and heavy and ready, pressed right up against your soaked heat.

Your whole body jolts at the contact, and suddenly something shifts in you.

You’re not just trembling anymore—you’re burning. You grabs him by the front of his shirt and pushes off the wall, stumbling forward on shaky legs.

“Where’s the room?” You pant.

He grins, drunk on the sound of you.

“End of the hall. Second door.”

You don’t even wait.

Bakugo catches your wrist again as you try to walk, sees your knees still unsteady, and without saying a word—he scoops you up. Hands under your thighs, body flush to his, carrying you like you’re light as air.

You gasp. “I can walk—!”

He growls, “Don’t care.”

He carries you like you weigh nothing, like you belongs in his arms. Your legs are still trembling from the orgasm he just pulled out of you in the hallway, but your hands never stop moving—gripping his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw just to feel him shiver.

He kicks open the door, steps inside, and shoves it shut with his foot. The lock clicks.

He sets you down—not on the bed. He pins you against the wall again, just for a second, breathing hard, eyes locked on yours. His hands are all over you, sliding down your body, squeezing your hips like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.

And you’re looking up at him with that same fucked-out, fire-in-your-veins look that’s been haunting his dreams since your shoot.

And then—slowly—you start to sink to your knees.

His breath catches.

“Wait,” he mutters, chest heaving, “you—fuck—what’re you—”

You’re already looking up at him through your lashes, fingers tugging his belt loose with quick, desperate movements.

“You ruined me,” you say, voice low and dangerously sweet. “Let me return the favor.”

Bakugo swears under his breath as you pull his cock free—hard and leaking, twitching in your grip. Your fingers wrap around him, slow and teasing, and he shudders.

And then your mouth is on him.

“Fucking hell,” he chokes out, his hand flying to your hair, not pushing, just holding, gripping tight like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue swirling in slow, wet circles, tasting him like you’ve been waiting for this moment since the second the cameras cut. You slide down his length, inch by inch, until your lips are stretched around him and your throat is already working to take more.

“Jesus fuck, baby—”

His voice is raw. Wrecked. You moan around him and his hips jerk.

“Just like that,” he groans, jaw tight. “That’s it. My perfect fuckin’ mouth.”

You hum, sending vibrations through him that almost make his knees buckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit, your spit coating him, dripping down your wrist. You’re relentless—pulling off to lick the tip, spit pooling on your tongue before you sink back down again.

Bakugo’s head hits the wall behind him with a soft thud. His eyes flutter shut, mouth open, breathing hard.

“You know what you fuckin’ do to me?” he growls, voice shaking. “You know how many nights I’ve jerked off thinking about you like this?”

You pull off, slowly, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock as you go.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

He grabs your jaw, tilts your face up toward him, cock resting against your cheek.

“I’d picture this mouth every fuckin’ time,” he breathes. “Your lips all shiny, tongue out, eyes begging. Just like this.”

You moan and take him back into your mouth deep, throat fluttering around him, and he loses it. His hand tightens in your hair as his hips stutter forward, fucking into your mouth once, twice—then forcing himself to stop.

“Fuck—stop,” he groans, pulling you off with a shaky hand, even though it kills him. “Gonna blow if you keep that shit up.”

Your lips are swollen, spit dripping down your chin, eyes glazed and smug.

“Good,” you purr.

He yanks you up off the floor and spins you, pushing your back toward the bed.

“You wanna ruin me?” he growls, voice low and filthy. “Let’s see if that pretty little cunt can finish the job.”

He manhandles you onto the bed like he owns it.

Like he owns you.

You land on your back, dress still hiked up around your waist, thighs spread open without shame. Your chest is heaving, lips wet, eyes locked on him like he’s the only thing you see.

And fuck—he might as well be.

Bakugo shrugs off his shirt in one smooth pull, muscles flexing, abs on full display, veins in his arms popping from how hard he’s holding himself back. His cock’s still out, thick and leaking, twitching with every step closer.

“You sit there lookin’ like that,” he growls, crawling up onto the bed, “and expect me to take it slow?”

You grin. Daring. “I don’t expect you to do anything except ruin me.”

He laughs—dark and mean—and grabs your ankles, dragging you down the bed until your ass is right at the edge, legs hanging off, wide open for him.

“You’re fuckin’ insane,” he mutters.

And then he’s on you.

One hand hooked under your knee, pushing it back toward your chest, the other lining himself up. His eyes are locked on your soaked cunt like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. The tip of his cock brushes your entrance, and you both moan.

“You feel that?” he mutters, dragging it through your folds, teasing your clit. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

“Need you,” you gasp, already trembling again. “Bakugo, please—”

“Please what?” he growls, leaning over you, tip just barely nudging inside. “Say it.”

“Please fuck me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He slams into you in one deep, smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you—thick and deep and perfect.

Bakugo groans, eyes rolling back. “Fuck—this pussy missed me, huh?”

“Yes—fuck yes—”

He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, making the bed creak under you.

“I can feel it,” he pants. “The way you’re squeezing me. Your cunt’s starving for it.”

His pace builds—relentless, deep, every thrust angled just right to hit that spot that makes you sob. One of his hands grabs your throat, not squeezing, just holding, thumb brushing over your jaw like he owns you.

“You like that, baby?” he growls. “You like bein’ fucked stupid?”

You nod, gasping, eyes rolling back. “Yes—yes, fuck, harder—”

He gives it to you.

Hips snapping into yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls, your moans getting louder, messier, realer. Your nails drag down his back, your thighs locked around his hips as you cling to him like you’re about to fall apart.

“Gonna cum for me again?” he mutters, leaning down, forehead pressed to yours. “Gonna cream on my cock like a good fuckin’ girl?”

“I—I can’t—” you whimper.

“You can. You will.”

He reaches between them and rubs your clit—fast, tight circles—and you scream.

Your entire body locks up, and then you break.

You cum hard, legs shaking, mouth open, nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, eyes locked on your wrecked, blissed-out face.

“Goddamn,” he grits out. “You’re fuckin’ unreal.”

His thrusts get rougher, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge—but then, suddenly, he pulls out.

You let out a broken whine, head thrown back against the mattress, body still twitching from your orgasm. Your pussy clenches around nothing, fluttering in the absence of him, wet and ruined and aching for more.

“N-no,” you gasp. “Why’d you—why’d you stop—”

Bakugo’s hovering over you, chest heaving, every muscle in his body tight like a live wire. His cock is soaked, twitching as it rests against your thigh, flushed and throbbing with the need to be buried again.

“Could’ve fucked blown in that pretty pussy just now,” he growls, voice wrecked. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He leans down, kisses you hard—filthy and deep, tongue licking into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls back, his voice is rough, laced with heat and control.

“Don’t wanna cum yet,” he pants. “Wanna watch you fall apart again.”

His fingers trail between your thighs, sliding through the slick mess he left behind. You gasp, hips twitching, eyes rolling when he pushes two fingers into you without warning—slow and deep.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, voice low as he watches your face twist in pleasure. “So wet for me. You like bein’ stuffed full, huh?”

You nod frantically, legs spreading wider, hips grinding down into his hand like you’re starved for it.

“Good,” he says, curling his fingers just right, pressing into that soft spot that makes your legs jump. “You’re gonna cum on my fingers now.”

“*Fuck—Katsuki—”

“Yeah?” he smirks, eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. “You close again, baby? Didn’t even give you a break.”

He keeps rubbing your clit with his thumb, fingers stroking in and out slow and deep, dragging slick sounds from between your thighs that make him groan under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy already,” he says, voice tight. “Look at you. All wrecked for me.”

You sob, head tossing back, hand fisting the sheets.

“Cum again,” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear. “Wanna feel you squeeze my fingers. Wanna make a mess before I fuck you proper.”

And you do.

Your body jerks, thighs clenching around his wrist, another orgasm ripping through you so fast and hard you nearly scream. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, clenching down with each wave, slick gushing down to his palm as you trembles through it.

Bakugo watches you lose it, feels your walls fluttering around his fingers, and his cock twitches, aching with the need to be back inside you.

But not yet.

He pulls his hand out slow, dragging it over your swollen, soaked folds, and brings his fingers to his mouth.

Sucks them clean.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted,” he mutters, eyes never leaving yours.

You look wrecked—eyes glassy, chest heaving, lips parted like you’re still trying to breathe.

He leans in, kisses you slow, and lines himself up again.

“You ready for more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod, barely able to speak.

He smirks, voice dark and low.

“Good.”

He slides back into you slow. Painfully slow.

His cock pushes in deep, stretching your ruined cunt all over again, and he groans at how wet, warm, perfect you still are—even after two orgasms and his fingers inside you. You’re flushed and boneless beneath him, lips parted, hair stuck to your face, eyes barely open.

Cockdrunk.

And he knows it.

He watches your face twist as he sinks in fully, his hips flush against yours, but doesn’t move.

Just stays there. Buried to the hilt.

You whine.

He pulls back, just a little.

Thrusts again—slow, deep, teasing. Like he’s savoring every inch. Your walls flutter around him, still clenching like you can’t let go, and he groans through gritted teeth.

“You feel that?” he pants. “How tight you still are?”

You nod, whining, legs twitching.

He does it again.

Slow.

Deep.

Unbearable.

You cry out, hips jerking up toward him, trying to chase more—anything—but he holds your hips still, smirking down at your wrecked face.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, breathless. “Not enough for you?”

You whimper. “Suki—”

He grins. “Tryin’ to fuck yourself on my cock now?”

And you are—rocking your hips up in tiny, desperate motions, your hands gripping the sheets, voice a string of needy little noises that go straight to his dick.

“You’re such a desperate little whore,” he groans. “Can’t even wait for me to fuck you proper, huh?”

“Suki—please—please—”

Your voice is high, slurred, half-sobs and gasp, like you’re not even forming real words anymore. Your cunt squeezes him so tight he nearly loses it.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s in pain. “You sound so fuckin’ wrecked—‘please, Suki’—you know what that does to me?”

You nod, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Need it—need you—need more—please—”

And then he snaps.

His grip on your hips tightens, and he slams into you.

No mercy. No hesitation.

Just filthy, hard, deep thrusts that rock the bed against the wall.

You scream, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing—just his body, his cock, him, pounding into you like he’s trying to bury himself in your soul.

“You want more?” he growls, voice wrecked. “Take it. Take every fuckin’ inch.”

You’re so loud now—moaning with every thrust, your back arching, body jerking with the force of it.

“I—I’m cumming—” you cry, body locking up again, cunt fluttering like you’re gonna break.

But he doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

“Yeah, baby? Already? Barely even started.”

Your third orgasm crashes through you like a wave, soaking him all over again. Your body trembles under his, and still—still—he doesn’t let up.

He grabs your legs, throws them over his shoulders, and folds you in half.

Then leans forward.

His body presses into yours, hands braced on either side of your head, his cock now driving in deeper than ever before, dragging against your walls in a way that makes you sob.

The angle is brutal. Relentless.

You gasp—eyes wide, mouth falling open. Your whole body freezes.

“Suki—!” You squeal. “Wait—wait—I think—I think I’m gonna pee—!”

He knows.

He fucking knows.

And the second you say it?

Bakugo groans. Loud. Wrecked. Ferally turned on.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he pants. “You’re gonna squirt for me?”

You’re panicking now, overwhelmed, the pleasure too much, too fast, building into something different.

“I—I can’t—Suki—Suki—!”

“Yes you can,” he growls. “Let it go. It’s okay. Fuckin’ do it.”

And you do.

Your body jerks once—twice—and then you scream, back arching off the bed as a gush of slick explodes from between your thighs, soaking both of them, soaking the sheets. Your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenches and flutters and gushes, and he pulls out just in time to watch it all.

“Holy fuck—” he groans.

He’s panting, cock dripping, and you’re still shaking, still coming, body twitching like you’ve been electrocuted.

He doesn’t even give you a second.

His hand dives down, fingers rubbing your clit fast—tight circles, no mercy.

“Gonna make a mess all over me, huh?” he pants. “Gonna soak my fuckin’ cock next?”

You’re sobbing, overwhelmed, body still spasming as more slick gushes out of you, squirting again, harder, soaking his hand and the sheets and your thighs.

“You’re such a dirty fuckin’ slut,” he groans, mouth open, watching you fall apart. “Look at you—fuckin’ look at you—”

When you finally start to come down, body trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks, Bakugo grabs your hips and slams back inside.

No pause.

No recovery.

Just more.

More of him.

He fucks you through the overstimulation, pounding into your soaked, sensitive pussy, growling every time your cunt clenches around him.

You’re babbling again, sobbing out moans and whines, brainless.

He’s close now. So close. His thrusts get sloppier, deeper, hips stuttering.

And then—

You grab his face, eyes barely open, voice slurred and high and ruined.

“Cum inside me,” you beg. “Please, Suki—want it inside—need you to fill me up—please—please—”

His whole body locks up.

His eyes roll back.

And he blows.

“Oh fuck baby, yes yes yes, FUCK—!”

His cock pulses inside you as he empties out, the hardest orgasm of his life, ropes of cum shooting deep into your twitching cunt. He groans through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, body shaking as he keeps thrusting, slow now, drawing out every pulse, every drop.

You moan at the feeling—full, warm, messy.

“You take it so fuckin’ well,” he pants, kissing you hard. “Made for me, baby. Fuckin’ made for this.”

His cock finally softens inside you, and he collapses onto your chest, both of you panting, soaked in sweat, slick, and cum.

You’re trembling. He’s still groaning.

And neither of you can speak.

Bakugo’s chest is still heaving as he lowers himself onto his elbows, careful not to crush you. His cock slips free, spent and messy, and you wince from the overstimulation. He’s already watching you—eyes dark, but softer now. More present.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut, voice hoarse. “Yeah… just—holy shit.”

He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah. No kidding.”

You’re still trembling beneath him, body twitching with aftershocks. Your skin’s flushed and glowing, your chest rising and falling fast, and for a moment he just stares. Watches you breathe. Watches you try to come back to yourself.

He reaches for the edge of the bed, grabs the nearest towel—probably Keigo’s fancy ass silk robe or something, who cares—and gently wipes between your thighs. You twitch, gasps softly, but doesn’t stop him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice low. “I know you’re sensitive. Just wanna clean you up a bit.”

His touch is careful. Gentle. Like you’re made of glass now, even though he just had you screaming his name with your legs over his shoulders.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Didn’t think you’d be the sweet type after railing me like that.”

He smirks, eyes flicking up to yours. “Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t pass out.”

He finishes wiping you down, tosses the towel to the floor, and climbs back onto the bed beside you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You hum and bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in.

It’s quiet now.

Just the sound of your breathing. The faint music still thumping somewhere in the house. His heartbeat under your cheek.

Bakugo presses his lips to the top of your head and holds you close.

“You really didn’t wear any panties tonight?”

You giggle sleepily. “Hoped you’d be here.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh, but there’s something else in it too—something warm. Dangerous.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing your temple, “just tell me what you want.”

You shift, just slightly, enough to look up at him.

Your voice is quiet.

Real.

“You,” you whisper. “I want you.”

He stares at you.

Heart pounding.

And says nothing.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

A few months later you’re standing outside.

The air is warm. Quiet.

No cameras. No script. No fake moans echoing off studio walls. Just the sound of a car pulling away from the curb, leaving behind nothing but soft tire tracks on the gravel and a sudden, still silence.

You exhale.

It’s done.

Your manager waved goodbye with glossy eyes and a box of farewell cupcakes like it was some emotional graduation ceremony. And maybe it was. A part of your life—the biggest part—is officially over. No more lights. No more contracts. No more “one last scene” promises.

You’re out.

Retired.

And free.

Your fans had been devastated, of course. The internet flooded with edits, fanpages posting heartfelt tributes, DM requests piling up asking if you were okay, if you’ll ever return. But you were calm about it. Because you had made your money. More than enough. Enough to buy three lives if you wanted. Yours, your future kids’, and their kids.

And for the first time… you didn’t feel like you owed anyone anything.

The gravel crunches under your feet as you walks up the driveway of your new house. It’s not huge. Not flashy. Just a little white-brick home with a cracked front step and windows that let the morning sun spill inside. There’s barely any furniture yet. The walls are still too clean. But you open the front door and walk in anyway, because it’s yours.

You walk through the living room. Kicks off your shoes. Run your fingers along the kitchen counter. There’s a faint smell of fresh paint and wood polish and something warm. Like home.

And then—warm arms wrap around your waist.

You’re startled for a second.

Until he nuzzles into the side of your neck, all soft breath and scratchy stubble, and you relax instantly.

“Hey,” Bakugo murmurs against your skin.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You scared me.”

He hums. “You’re the one who snuck in without saying hi.”

“I live here,” you tease.

“Hey,” he says. “We live here.”

His arms tighten around your middle. His hands are calloused and warm, and he smells like clean linen and cedarwood shampoo. He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder and then another behind your ear.

“You know,” he says, voice low and teasing, “we gotta christen all the rooms.”

You snort. “You’re horrible.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

You turn in his arms, facing him now—barefoot and smiling, cheeks warm, heart full.

Because this is the part no one saw coming.

After that night at Keigo’s house—after the hallway, after the bedroom, after you whispered “I want you” like it was the most honest thing you’d ever said—Bakugo was done.

He left the industry the next day.

Didn’t tell anyone at first. Just walked off set, deleted the shoot schedule, and never looked back. He didn’t need the job. Didn’t want it. Not if it meant being surrounded by people who weren’t you.

He pursued you properly after that. Not with half-assed flirty texts or casual hookups. He showed up for you. Asked you out. Cooked for you. Slept next to you, not just with you. You thought it would feel weird—awkward, even. But it didn’t.

It felt easy. Natural. Real.

You left the industry a week later. For yourself. For him. For whatever this life was becoming.

Now?

Now you’re here.

In a half-empty house with your names on the mortgage and a stupid list of furniture you still need to buy, and for the first time in forever, you feel like you can just breathe.

Bakugo kisses you softly. Just once.

Then he smirks.

“Bedroom’s still got space on the headboard for scratches.”

“Bakugo.”

“What?” he shrugs, already lifting you up by the thighs. “I’m sentimental.”

You laugh, cling to him, and let him carry you down the hallway, your new life unfolding behind every door.

Your bedroom’s bathed in soft afternoon light when he pushes open the door with his foot.

It’s nothing fancy—white walls, wooden floors, a tall dresser with half the drawers still empty. The bed’s made, kind of, one corner of the blanket folded back like it’s been waiting for them. A single mug sits on the nightstand. Your side.

He lays you down gently, like you’re something delicate. Like he hasn’t already had you screaming into his pillow a dozen times since you moved in.

You pull him down with you, fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt.

Your mouths meet in a slow, lazy kiss. It’s not heated or rushed—it’s warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss you only give to someone when there’s no performance behind it. No pretending.

Just love.

He crawls over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other on your hip, thumb brushing circles into the soft skin there. You exhale against his lips, smiling.

“You gonna make good on your promise?” You tease, eyes fluttering open.

“Which one?”

“‘Christen all the rooms.’”

He grins, teeth and cocky heat.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thought I’d start with this one. Seems the most important.”

Your heart thuds. You try to act unbothered, but his weight on top of you, the way his hand slips under your shirt, palm warm on your stomach—it makes your stomach flutter.

“But we’ve already-,” you laugh, running your fingers through his hair.

“Shut up,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing there slowly. “I know.”

You laugh.

“You make me crazy,” you whisper.

His mouth stills.

He pulls back, looking down at you.

And there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before.

Something quiet. Serious.

“I think about it,” he says softly. “The future.”

You stare up at him, breath caught.

“You ever do that?”

You nod, slow. “All the time.”

He leans down, presses his forehead to yours.

“I want it all,” he murmurs. “With you.”

Your hands slide up his back, feeling every tense line of muscle under your palms. You pull him closer. Your noses bump. Your lips brush.

“Me too.”

He kisses you then—not playful, not teasing. Just real. Long and deep. Like he’s telling you something in a language only your mouths understand.

When he pulls back, he whispers against your lips, “I love you.”

You exhale and smile. “I love you too.”

His hand slips between you, fingertips ghosting down your stomach, between your thighs. He touches you like he’s got all night. Like there’s nowhere else you need to be. Like loving you isn’t something he wants—it’s something he needs.

You gasp softly, hips shifting under his touch.

“You always get like this when you talk about the future?” You whisper.

He laughs quietly. “Only with you.”

Your thighs part for him. You’re already wet. Already aching.

“Then don’t stop,” You breathe.

He doesn’t.

He makes love to you slow. Hands in your hair, forehead pressed to yours. No loud moans. No biting. No rush. Just the steady rhythm of your bodies moving like they were made to fit.

After, you lay tangled together, half under the blankets, half on top of each other. Skin warm. Hearts steady.

He runs his hand down your spine. You hum.

“Hey,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“Mm?”

“If we ever have a kid,” he says casually, “we’re not naming them after Keigo. I don’t care how much that bastard tries to bribe us.”

You bark out a laugh, pressing your face into his chest. “I wasn’t going to!”

“He’s already been hinting. You know he has.”

“I’m naming our first kid after someone normal, like—Ida or something.”

Bakugo looks physically pained. “Absolutely not.”

You laugh until your stomachs hurt, until your eyes sting with leftover tears, and then he kisses you again—slow and sweet.

“You really want all that?” You ask later, voice small.

He nods.

“You and me,” he says. “Little monsters running around. A house full of loud shit and chaos and love.”

You bite your lip. “And a couch that doesn’t suck.”

He smirks. “Yeah. That too.”

You fall asleep like that. Wrapped up in each other. Wrapped up in something soft and real and permanent.

Something that, for the first time in both your lives, has nothing to do with being watched.

And everything to do with being seen.

-

TAGS <3

@2elusional @cosmicaoii @kizsuki @kodzubaby

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

─── ♡ INTRODUCING KITTY!READER

KITTY!READER is just full of mischief. she’s known for her playful and carefree attitude towards life. she’s quite like a kitten in that way. although, she’s not the greatest in serious or high stress situations, never really knowing when to take things seriously.

KITTY!READER isn’t the most social when it comes to strangers, preferring the company of her friends and boyfriend. it’s not because she’s shy or nervous around new people, she just doesn’t really have any care for anyone else besides her loved ones.

KITTY!READER isn’t afraid of asking for what she wants. she can be pretty demanding at times, but how can you say no when you see those large eyes look up at you like that? she’s just the cutest thing, and she knows how to take advantage of that.

KITTY!READER can get pretty catty when she’s feeling overstimulated or stressed, most of the time just needing a few minutes to herself. but sometimes, it definitely needs checking.

ALL ABOUT KITTY

♡ moodboards — one two three four

♡ the reader kitty is closest to

KITTY’S MASTERLISTS - tba

♡ blue lock

♡ jujutsu kaisen

♡ attack on titan

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

a knock on your boyfriend, bakugo’s door of his dorm room causes a groan to escape his lips, unwrapping his arms from you where you were both previously cuddled up while watching a movie on your laptop.

“who’s that?”, you ask, still laid up in his bed as you watch him get up while marching to his door with pure attitude.

“probably them damn extras again.”, he complains with a grumble, opening his door to find kaminari, kirishima and sero stood there with large smiles on their faces.

“what’s with your goofy faces? and why are you knocking on my door at 10pm?”, he questions, a scowl plastered on his face.

“we were wondering if you wanted to come play this new game with us?”, kirishima asks, holding up a video game you know your boyfriend has been wanting to try out for a while now.

he leans against the doorframe, “well, i’m with my girlfriend right now.”

“yeah but you’ve wanted to play this for a while, right? i’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”, kaminari reasons, sero nodding along with him.

letting out the biggest sigh he could, bakugo replies, “yeah whatever, let me ask her.”, shutting his door halfway so the boys couldn’t see bakugo’s little act he was about to pull off.

“you can go if you want, i don’t mind.” you say softly, turning your head away from the movie you were just watching. you really didn’t mind if he wanted to hang out with his friends since he spent majority of his time with you anyway.

he frowns at your response, mouthing a ‘be quiet’ before opening the door once again after a minute or so, seeing their anticipated smiles.

“yeah she said no.”, bakugo shrugs through his lie nonchalantly, causing you to whip your head back around at him while furrowing your brows.

was this man trying to make his friends hate you?

“well, do you really need to be asking your girlfriend for permission, dude? seems kinda toxic..”, kaminari starts, scratching the back of his head with an awkward look on his face.

“are you questioning her?”, bakugo questions, his voice slightly raised as he holds his usual angry face when anyone mentions anything he doesn’t like about you.

he’s always been protective like that. although, you do wonder if that’s the reason why most of the boys seem a little too cautious around you and always refuse to train with you. bakugo always tells you not to worry about it.

“nah, course not, bro. we’ll play another time it’s fine.”, kirishima steps in, holding his hands up while giving a light hearted laugh, trying to cool bakugo’s behaviour.

“yeah, yeah, fine. whatever.”, bakugo rolls his eyes, shooing off his friends before turning back to you, the angered expression he once had completely wiped off.

his sight finally falls back onto you as he walks back over and getting comfortable in his bed again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest as he interlocks his legs with yours.

if anyone saw the position bakugo was in now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes. angry, aggressive bakugo laid up with a girl, holding onto her so gently as he kisses her forehead, watching some bullshit movie you know he has no interest in watching, and all for his sweet little girlfriend who everyone now seems to think holds him hostage so he can’t hang out with his boys.

and all because he simply just wants to spend all his time with his girlfriend.

“you’re such a lover boy.”, you smile at him, knowing how embarrassed he gets when you say things like this.

“shut up.”, he grumbles, partly hiding his face in the covers as he continues watching the movie with you, back where he wanted to be.

he knows you’re right. you have this man absolutely whipped for you and he couldn’t even care less about it.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

katsuki had a weird fetish whenever he was around you. and he knew it was, because he doesnt always have this.. fetish.

his brain chemistry just clicks, eying you like candy and wants to admit that the dopamine rush is intense, his body acting on the first thought he gets when he lays eyes on you.

and last night, it was some panty fetish he randomly had. saw just the outline of your panties, and it was game over in the matter of minutes. immediately, like clockwork, you were on your knees with your face in the mattress— confused, aroused, moaning, and sensitive.

“you smell good, sweet girl..” he mumbles, pinching your clit through your panties and biting his lip. “just wan’na..” he stops, darting his tongue out at your clothed slit, dampening the fabric. “oh god..” he says muffled, hands pulling your thighs apart so he has more room.

“b—baby,” you mewl into the silky velvet sheets of your bed, “oh god, it feels good, but a little weird..”

he suckles, no longer damp, but soaked. “itll get better, mama.” he chuckles, his eyes rolling when he finds your swollen clit and teethed at it soft. “what we got here..?” he asked sing song, a soft smack to your ass. “yer getting so wet.. even without my help.”

“cant help it when you eat me like this..!” because what does he mean when hes got you bent over the bed and hasnt even taken your draws off.

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

i can just imagine that bf! katsuki's idea of a prank for april fools is... truly something else.

it was april 1st, and you knew something was up.

katsuki had been acting too smug all morning—watching you with that feral little glint in his eyes, lips twitching like he was holding back a secret he could barely contain.

he wasn’t exactly subtle. he never was.

so when he gestured toward the living room with a deceptively casual, “got you a seat, sweets,” you should’ve known better.

you looked down at the chair behind you. then at his suspiciously innocent expression.

then back at the chair.

it looked like a chair.

still… something reeked of bullshit.

but you, tragically, were trusting. and very tired. and in very, very tiny shorts. so—you sat.

and the “chair” just, vanished.

because he’d yanked it away at the last second, and you landed squarely on his face.

a startled squeal left your lips, your hands flailing for balance as your thighs straddled his head. “katsuki—!”

he let out a guttural groan that vibrated straight through you, hands already locking around your thighs to keep you exactly where you were.

“happy fuckin’ april fools, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice muffled deliciously between your legs.

you couldn’t even respond before he grabbed your hips and pulled you down with zero warning, your thighs straddling his face as you yelped, scrambling to keep your balance.

and when his tongue immediately slid up against the wet patch of your tiny shorts, already bullying through the damp fabric like he had something to prove, you knew you’d just been played in the most evil, genius way possible.

“th-this is not what.. april fools is supposed to mean,” you gasped.

“sure it is,” he growled. “i made a fool outta you. thought i was givin’ you a normal chair."

“katsuki—”

he just groaned again, louder this time, the sound shooting straight through your core as he pulled you down flush against his mouth. his nose bumped against your clit through the cloth and you nearly sobbed.

“fuck— this isn’t even—this doesn’t count as a prank—!”

“it does if it ends with me eatin’ you out,” he muttered smugly, voice muffled beneath your thighs. “best fuckin’ prank of the year.”

your hands fumbled uselessly at his hair, clutching for something to ground yourself while he tongued your clothed cunt like he hadn’t eaten in days. and god, he was relentless, licking and sucking and grinding his face up against the thin fabric like it offended him.

“there you fuckin’ go,” he purred, tongue flattening against the mess you were already making. “that’s it, atta girl. ride my fuckin’ face."

you shivered, legs trembling as your body betrayed you, hips rolling forward without you even realizing it, chasing the friction.

“you ambushed me, asshole!” you gasped, flushed and panting, though your hips were already obeying him, grinding down slowly, rhythmically, chasing the pressure.

“‘s not ambush if you’re enjoying it,” he growled. his teeth grazed your inner thigh. “now shut up and ride your throne.”

you couldn’t even respond. not when he hooked a finger under the waistband of your shorts and yanked them to the side—finally getting his mouth on your soaked cunt, bare and aching and already trembling for him.

your head tipped back. “fuck—!”

the smug bastard moaned into you, like he knew he had you, like he wanted you to drown in it—wanted you to remember exactly how dangerous it was to sit in anything he called a “seat.”

katsuki’s mouth was devouring you like this had been the plan all along. and, god, it probably had been. he was nothing if not meticulous when it came to fucking with you, especially when it involved your thighs on his face and your moans in his ears.

your nails dug into his scalp as his tongue licked a stripe up your folds, slow and hot and absolutely criminal. he didn’t give you time to catch your breath either, just latched onto your clit with a low grunt, sucking until your knees nearly gave out.

“shit—katsuki, i’m gonna—”

he growled, like good, and gripped your ass tighter, anchoring you against him. “then fuckin’ do it. cum on my face."

your brain short-circuited. he was groaning like he was starving, and you were trembling above him like you were about to break.

and when he slid two fingers inside you—without warning, curling them just right, you did.

your orgasm hit like a damn truck, hips jolting, thighs trembling around his head as you gasped his name so hard it cracked. katsuki didn’t let up, tongue lapping through your release while his fingers pumped you through every wave.

only when your legs started to give out completely did he finally ease up. just enough to look at you with his lips slick and his grin absolutely feral.

you collapsed onto his chest the second he sat up, totally spent, heart still pounding.

“best fuckin' holiday, huh?” he murmured, kissing your temple.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ ahhh pls pretend its still april 1 lmao, finally done with school and hopefully i get to write more!! hope you guys enjoyed💗💗

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

🧨 ★ Katsuki...

Imagining virgin Katsuki who can't stop thinking about you.

It's always you, you, you.

Watching porn is boring to him and he just wants to slide his cute pre-cum stained cock across your pussy :(( poor boys pent, legs jittering under his desk as he desperately scrolls through a porn site on his laptop, trying to find someone that looks or acts like you.

And when he finally does? His hand drags down, up, down, slowly but just good enough. It's not you, but he imagines his hand as your pretty cunt, ringing his fingers on his dick desperately — imagining his pre as your frothy liquids.

And the next day when he sees you? Katsuki turns away and scoffs, and you never know why he's always so grumpy at you sometimes. and when he gets home, it's the same cycle again

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

monsterfuckery isn’t always about weird creature sex. sometimes it’s about laying in bed lonely and there’s a chittering sound in the dark and something warm and scaly slides up your body and flicks its tongue on your ear and sharp claws grab your hips and she purrs behind you. and you smile because your wife is home from work

[everyoneisalittlesadalittlehorny]

"CNC is fine as long as you're roleplaying as the victim" "ageplay is fine as long as you're not roleplaying as the adult" do you hear the words coming out of your mouth