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woodle-isbae · 4 months ago

Note

I need me one order of katsuki getting freaky with reader after a nice romantic date with extra smut on the side please 😌

The Answer

K.Bakugo x fem!reader

Warnings: takes place in the 3rd Year, Reader is just as snappy as Bakugou, mating press, oral( f receiving) , slight sub! Bakugo, virgin! Bakugo, swearing(obviously), black implied reader.

I mightve missed some stuff..idk

A/N: I think posting this will cure my writers block wtf.

"And where do you think your going dressed like that?"

You turned tour head to be met with your pink friend, her eye brow raised and head cocked to the side while her arms crossed, acting as if she were your mother. She basically fit the criteria, wearing her crocs and some shorts with a gown over.

"I'm going on a a date, I told you this already."

As the words left your mouth she let out a soft gasp, shuffling over to interrogate you about who what and where, preparing for her bombarding.

"Who is this lucky fella huh? Wait no let me guess, Shoto! No, he doesn't date...Iida!"

You internally scolded yourself for letting her see you like this, knowing that she would name every guy under the sun...but Him.

"Let me save you the time, it's Katsuki."

You gave her a soft smile, placing your hand on her shoulder as you spoke. But Mina only offered you a shocked face, as if she saw a ghost- her face went pale at the mention of the blonds name.

"What.?"

"Haha, yeah really unlikely that Katsuki would have a girlfriend- let alone me!"

You chuckled dryly, glancing to the clock on the wall and noticing that you would be late if you stayed any longer. You muttered a soft excuse me to Mina and left the Dorms, going to the UA gates, a soft scowl on your puffy haired boyfriends face.

"Your gonna make us late dumbass."

Not letting you even speak up, he placed a bouquet of (Fav/flowers) in your hands, his blushing highlighted by the moonlight. He glanced down to you and begun scowling at you.

"You got a fucking starin' problem or something!?"

"Jeez, can't a girl just enjoy looking at her boyfriend."

"I didn't say that! Your fucking Gawking at me!"

"Yeah! You look well dressed tonight...for once.."

"The fuck was that!?"

Your little squabble went on until you two reached a cute restaurant, bakugou trying to be a romantic fuck and open the door for you with a grumble, holding back on his words when you giggle and muttered a soft 'thank you'

He lead you to a small booth in the far corner of the little Cafe, setting down your gifts next to you as you sat across from him, looking through the menu for a moment until your sweet boyfriend snapped his fingers trying to call for a waiter.

"Katsuki! That's so rude."

"Tch, the fuck I look like caring huh?"

You begun squabbling again until someone(s) walked up to your table. You both looked up to order, abruptly stopping to stare at Katsuki's two friends in the Cafe uniform, grinning from eat to ear while wiggling their brows at you.

"What would you like t-"

"We want a different waiter..why the fuck are you two here, together."

"Part time, need more cash for our stuff."

Denki spoke out, a goofy grin on his face as his eyes craned over to you then back to Katsuki, his face dropping in an instant.

"Why are you..with him..?"

He muttered out, the whole table going silent- felt like the whole place went silent, you were absolutely dumbfounded. Do people not think your a good match?

"Argh! I didn't mean it like that! I just never expected Ka-Bakugo to be with you! Your exactly the same and that thing with opposites-"

He stammered out, waving his hands infront of him, trying to defend himself before any of you could speak. Ultimately Sero had hit him upside the head and dragged him away.

"...I ordered us some Curry."

You craned your head back to the man infront of you, his face in a deep blush- probably because he was caught on a date.

"The fuck are you blushing for, you don't want anyone to find out about us huh?"

Your words had fixed him right up, his face returning back into a scrunched up scowl.

"Ffffff-FUCK NO, I'd show you off! Stop being so difficult!"

He growled out, even if he's words sounded so rude to the person over- you knew he actually meant it, he wasn't able to express himself and any form of compliment was actually sincere.

"I know Tsuki, don't get so grumpy before the date even starts."

Just as he was about to scream more, Sero and Denki came back with your food in hand, placing them down along with your drinks. Sero was being sneaky and whispered something into Katsuki's ear, slipping something into his hand and shuffling away giggling with Denki.

"Weirdos."

You mumbled out, digging into your food and ignoring the blush on Katsuki's face, his eyes boring holes into your head. You glanced up at him and looked away, pretending to eat his food so you wouldn't question him.

The date went surprisingly well, besides the fact Denki and sero kept coming back to 'check' on you guys(whisper some stuff into Bakugou's ear), it was the best you've ever been on.

"What are they muttering into y'ear?"

"N-nothing! Focus on the date, ignore those damn extras."

He spoke out through a full mouth, obviously very out of character for him since he would give you a full lecture about talking with a full mouth, that turns into a lecture about table manners.

"Hm, whatever you say."

You smirked up at him, using your spoon to point at him teasingly before fucking up your plate.

You had finished up and Bakugou snached the bill away trying to be a gentleman. You weren't gonna pay anyway.

"Where are we going next?"

"Just follow me."

You rolled your eyes and walked next to him, glancing over to his full hands with the gifts he got you- saying that he's gonna hold them while you look pretty. It honestly made you giggle how he found a way to be sweet while being a total jackass.

The two of you shorty arrived at an empty hillside at a park, with some blankets, candles, chocolates and even more stuffed toys sat around. You squeeled and jumped up on him the moment he set down the gifts, showering him in glossy kisses and soft 'thank you!' And 'I love it!!'

"Well, I'm glad you like it.."

His words came out soft and hushed, a soft blush spread across his face while he released a breath of relief. He had lead you to the blanket and sat across from you, dipping some fruit in the chocolate and trying to feed you.

"Look at you! Trying to be all romantic!!"

"Shut up and eat."

He pouted at your teasing, not screaming or trying to fight, just accepting your weird teasing that made him blush. While you talked his ear off about different things and stuff you'd wanna do together, he stared at you- a soft gaze, drinking up every little detail on your face with the moonlight washing over you.

"Your really pretty.."

"Aw! Tha-"

"I'm not done. Your really pretty, I'm kinda jealous, like your so fucking perfect- I'm shocked you even wanna be with me."

He paused, taking in a deep breath and looking you in the eyes, placing his large warm hand over yours.

"It makes me super happy or whatever that I get to be your boyfriend, fuck- it makes me super happy that I can walk around and scream to the world that (Y/N)(L/N) is my lover- my girlfriend!"

You only sat staring at him, a slight pout forming on your face as the tears came right up, you jumped onto him with a big hug.

"I love you too Katsuki, I'll never stop loving you! Imagine how excited I feel getting to say that I'm dating the Pro Hero in training, Katsuki Bakugou!"

You both had layed there, the cool night air brushing over you while you soaked in the presence of eachother, the soft breaths catching your ears.

"What did Hanta slip into your pocket anyways?"

Your words sat in his head for a few seconds before he shot up, clearing his throat and muttering something about your curfew, trying to beat around the bush.

"C'mon Katsuki! You can tell me.!"

"Not in public.."

He walked fast paced, for someone who was carrying atleast 20kgs worth of gifts in that little blanket, he was moving really fast. You huffed out and followed him until you guys made it back to UA, opening the door so he could walking in and go to his room.

Unlucky for him, you still followed him- mainly because he would need help with the door, but also because your still curious.

"It's nothing, important- now shoo."

"I'll shut the door, and you can whisper it.!"

You did just that, locking the door and shuffling over to sit next to him on his bed, bringing your eat closer to him.

"For fucks sake, it's not anything we'll use now."

Use? It's obviously something with a one time use value.

"Breathmint? I mean your breath is amazing, why would he giv-"

"It's a condom dipshit."

What!

"Why the fuck we're you so embarrassed to say that! Obviously we could've used it now."

"Well I don't know how!"

He had a scowl on his face, a really stark contrast to the same soft loving face that gushed out all his feelings to you.

"We get a SexEd class every year, what do you mean you don't know how??"

"I know how! Fucking hell, I just- never did it before.."

"Can you repeat, i didn't he-"

"I'm a virgin."

You stared at him, he looked away with a red face- embarrassed that someone like him, an ego so big, was a virgin. You weren't really surprised, he shouts so much you would've guessed he's pent up.

"That why your always angry?"

"OHMYFUCKINGGODSHUTUP!"

He threw a pillow at you, growing embarrassed at how chill you were being since he just told one of his biggest secrets.

"Okay sorry! But...do you wanna change that?"

He looked over at you, dumbfounded at your choice of words.

"You hang out with dunceface too much."

"Ouch?"

You held your heart dramatically, earning a groan from your boyfriend. As you were about to complain he cut you off, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

His rough hand on your cheek, his tongue poking at your lips begging for entrance- which you allowed happily. Your own hands finding their way to his face, the little bickering you had a moment ago completely forgotten, drowning in your lust for eachother.

"Yes, you can change that."

He said softly against your lips, lifting you off the bed and onto his lap, trying to pull in as close as possible. A hushed whine leaving his lips when your pressed yourself on his tent, pulling back to look at him with a sly smirk.

"Shut up."

Once again, as you were about to speak he cut you off with a kiss, not interested to hear the dumb joke you wanted to say. You had decided to unbutton his shirt, slowly exposing his chest to the night air, causing him him to softly hiss.

"I should've closed my window- fuck."

He mumbled on your lips, trying to get your clothes off aswell, slightly fumbling out of nervousness. You giggled at his shyness, helping him get you out of your clothes.

"Relax, we're taking this slow..for you."

He blushed, insulted that you thought he needed to take things slow, he was gonna show you otherwise.

"Fuck that, I can take whatever you throw at me."

His rough voice booming through your ears, flipping you onto your back and trailing his hands down your sides, lips tracing down your neck to your collarbone.

"Don't be loud."

He said between your thighs, looking you dead in the eye as he slowly pulled your panties to the side, breathing onto your exposed cunt. Soft kisses placed near your slit.

"Stop being a tease Kats."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want."

The last words that left his lips before he placed them softly on your clit, sucking softly on the swollen bud. A soft gasp slipping past your own, fingers sliding through his messy hair.

"Just like that, yeahh.."

You said breathlessly, lifting your hips to hump against his tongue. He ran it from your slit all the way to your clit, groaning from the sweet taste of your juices, his grip on your thighs near bruising.

"Fuck, you taste so good."

You knew he was addicted now, not stopping to come back up for air or when you shook under him, talking about 'wait..I don't wanna cum so fast..'. He could care less, drunken from the taste of your juices alone.

"Tsuki- I'm gonna cum! Fuck.!"

You shook underneath his hold, hips spasming from the non stop stimulation of his tongue from your clenching heat to the swell of your clit. He made sure to lick you clean before pulling back, finally taking in a full breath of air.

"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've done this so fucking long ago."

He was loving every second of it, the pupil in his red eyes so blown out they nearly washed away the color, lips pink and swollen. He hopped off the bed, shuffling to lock the door and throw his clothes off, making his way back to you with the condom pack placed between his teeth.

"You seem excited."

You chuckled, glancing between his legs that held the one thing you wanted more- and up to his flushed face, a small smile plastered on. His hands sliding the condom onto his fat cock, aligning himself to your cunt.

Pushing inside you with one swift thrust, hissing from the new found feeling of your warmth, Katsuki placed his arms around your waist and held your tightly against him. You'd taken a moment to catch your breath, getting used to the stretch his cock gave you.

"Tsuki...you can move.."

You whispered into his ear, keeping your arms locked around the back of his neck, fingers tracing softly on his nape. He had hummed at your words, thrusting into you slowly to get used to the feeling of being deep inside you.

"I could get addicted to this...fuck.."

Katsuki propped himself up on his left elbow, looking down between your bodies to see the way you connect at each thrust, his right hand pushing your leg up to your chest do he could get even deeper.

The new found position had you both in utter bliss, the blondes thrusts becoming more and more erratic and rough- while the sounds leaving your mouth had raised in volume at each *plap* of your hips.

"Fuuckk! Yes- right there, Katsuki!"

You clawed at his back, trying to surface yourself on anything to avoid being fucked dumb too late. He hissed out, drunken off the soft pulsing around his cock and the way his name sat comfortably in your mouth.

"I won't last long if you keep scratchin' up on me."

He growled into your ear, slowing his thrusts but making them deeper, trying get you to reach your orgasm before him. He moved his hand between you two to rub on your clit, moaning at the way you constricted around him.

You could feel your second orgasm of the night approach, his other hand leaving your hip and groping at your tit, rubbing faster against your clit. He bit down on your shoulder to conceal the pathetic whimpers and moans that slipped out his lips.

"Ah! Tsuki-im gonna cum.!"

"Go 'head baby- fuuuck, it's all yours."

He grunted into your neck, rolling his hips oh so pleasantly against yours. His pleads and whimpers clouded your mind, the way his cock rubbed against the spongy spot deep inside you. You could feel the knot inside you breaking- along with something else inside, you were too fucked out to protest and beg him to sloe down, head falling back against the pillow as your jaw hung slack.

"Oh- fuckfuckfuckkk, I'm- Shiiittt!"

You shook underneath him, your orgasm crashing down on you like a brick, juices spraying down your thighs and against his chiseled hip. This caused a reaction out of him, his thrusts turning sloppy before he locked in placed, cusses and pleads flying out of his mouth.

"Haa- you feel so fucking good..oh pleasepleaseplease- ha!"

You stayed there for a moment, catching your breaths and making your way back into your mushed brains. Once Katsuki had sat up to pull out, you were fast asleep and sprawled out comfortably on the bed.

"Eh? I did that."

He smuggly muttered to himself, slipping out of you and getting a damp cloth to clean you both with, bringing some spare clothes to change you into aswell. As soon as he snuggled up and was ready to sleep, your phone dinged and lit up, a new message from the group.

The blond only grumbled and tossed the phone to the night stand, turning over to spoon you, kissing over the bruises he left on your skin before sleeping.

#azana #x black reader #chubby!reader #black plus size reader #mha #mha smut #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #sub bakugou #virgin bakugo #katsuki x black reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x black reader

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dollyfetti · 8 months ago

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bsf!virgin!bkg who had no idea what to do when a girl started rubbing him through his pants after a class. he immediately went to you for advice, the only person he can really talk to about anything.

"and.. she wanted me to touch her tits.. i didn't know what to fuckin' do!" the blond exclaims with furrowed eyebrows as he manspreads on the end of your bed while you sit at your vanity in front of him. you finish rubbing moisturizer into your face with a grin. "you've never even touched tits before?" you giggle, placing the cap back on the moisturizer. with a roll of his eyes, he grunts, "nope", popping the p sarcastically. you quickly get up from your vanity, taking your spot next to your bestest friend since high school. the close proximity usually wouldn't bother katsuki at all, having slept in your bed with you in it and used your shower. but under the circumstances, he can't ignore the weird feeling inside him.

out of nowhere, your pretty manicured hands pull his rough calloused ones off his legs and to your chest. his eyes immediately widen, looking up at your eyes with a quiet gulp. you hold his hands to you without any awkwardness in your behavior. "katsukii, these are what titties feel like. squeeze 'em." you say with a hint of teasing. he blinks with a slightly opened mouth. "yer a fuckin' weirdo." he playfully spits, nonetheless lightly squeezing your boobs for a fast second. you giggle, "there ya go. now you're prepared." you boop his nose and remove his hands. bakugou scoffs with a small smirk. "yeah, whatever." he says, ignoring the tightness in his baggy jeans.

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shonen-brainrot · 1 year ago

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Boyfriend!Bakugo, who, despite his typically rough and dominating demeanor, reveals an unexpectedly tender side after you express your readiness to take a significant step in your relationship.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who meticulously plans every detail: whisking you away to the serene mountains, where he's secured a cozy cabin for a few blissful days. He goes the extra mile to craft the perfect ambiance – soft furs sprawled in front of a crackling fireplace, casting a warm glow, and a delectable dinner thoughtfully prepared by his own hands.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who delights in shared laughter and smiles with you as you both enjoy the dinner together.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who tenderly lays you down on the soft furs, gently undressing you, and planting kisses on every inch of your exposed skin as the discarded clothes find their place on the floor.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who grins with a cocky comment, saying, "Mmmm, my cute little virgin girlfriend flaunting such provocative lingerie, well, well," as he appreciates the perfectly fitted red, lacy underwear you're wearing.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who eats your pussy slowly, lapping on your slit and sucking on tour clit, occasionally fingering you to get you ready for his cock. With every little moan escaping your lips Katsuki grunts, feeling how his cock twitches within his pants, begging to be stuffed in your tight cunt.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who handles the moment with incredible gentleness when he takes your virginity.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who gradually pushes his cock into you with a resonant moan escaping his lips at the feeling of your tightness. "Fuck, princess, you're so fucking tight for me."

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who pushes relentlessly past the resistance until there's no room left, until his balls gently press against the curve of your ass.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who moves more smoothly now, encountering less resistance in his path. Glancing down, he notices it's due to you bleeding.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who tenderly kisses away those tiny tears streaming down your cheeks, a result of the overwhelming sensation of being filled and stretched beyond comprehension.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who showers you with constant praise, saying, "That's it, princess, you're taking me so well. Relax, just relax for me, and it'll feel perfect. Just like that. You're doing so well."

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who engages in fucking you missionary, passionately making out with you throughout.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who senses his cock twitching as the walls around him start spasming, seemingly eager to coax out his release.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who curses himself for not lasting longer but he's overwhelmed by how good you feel to him.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who pleads, "Princess, let me cum inside, please?"

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who cums with a guttural grunt, rolling his head backward as your pussy clenches around him. He withdraws gradually, observing the mixture of his cum, your release, and traces of blood oozing out of your entrance.

Boyfriend!Bakugo, who whispers, "I love you. I'll protect you for as long as I have on this damn earth."

#ru writes 🍬#mha headcanons #bakugo x reader #bakugo headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #anime smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo x reader smut #virginity loss

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feralfangirll · 1 year ago

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I literally gnaw at the iron bars of my enclosure over virgin!Bakugo.

He’s so mean when he’s embarrassed and this was definitely a sore subject for him. He just hadn’t realized it was something he should have been focusing on along with his peers until it was too late. Now everyone else is off working as pro heroes and fucking and dating and he’s… too embarrassed to tell you he’s never done it so he pushes you away instead. He says the meanest things, ignores your calls and texts, anything to get you off his back.

However, after a few dates (and despite his best efforts) he somehow finds himself splayed back on the couch in YOUR apartment. He’s not going to tell you this is the first time he’s kissed anyone and he’s praying to any god who will listen that you can’t tell… (you can).

He’s sloppy and messy and you can tell he’s trying too hard to be good at it but you don’t care. Instead, you press into the kiss, grinding your clothed core down against the rough tent building in his jeans.

“It’s… I gotta go… the fuck you think you’re doin?” He grunts, trying to hide the dizzied panicked look on his face when he nearly shoots his load right there. You just giggle and coo reassuring words in his ear and he’s too weak-willed to push you away anymore.

His hips begin to buck up into you as you increase the intensity of your swirling tongue around his and the weight you grind down on him with. His grunts turn into desperate whimpers and he looks up at you with pleading eyes when you pull away.

You don’t need him to tell you he’s a virgin to see it written all over his face right now. You’ve always known, honestly…

Katsuki nearly passes out when he feels your little hand pop open his jeans and slip under the waist band of his boxers, soft skin wrapping around his throbbing hard cock finally and you free it from the torturous fabric. His head falls back and a soft, choked moan escapes his lips as he bucks into your hand.

“P-please… oh fuck… please…” he whines and it’s so uncharacteristic for the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight that your pussy flutters around nothing and your lids hang a little lower. You let out a silent sigh as you begin stroking his fat length, watching his face contort in pleasure. His head rolls back, eyes closed tight, brows knit together, and mouth open with upper lip curled up as he hisses. This was better than anything he’d ever imagined. He’s lost. He’s gone. No longer on this plain of existence.

So good, actually, that he nuts in mere minutes of your gentle teasing stroke. You were just building up anticipation. Nothing about this gentle stroke was supposed to get him off, and yet it does. It happens so fast neither of you are ready for it and he’s blushing a deep red as loud, lewd grunts and pants pour from his mouth and his cock spurts thick white ropes of cum up into the air then back onto his jeans and your pretty little hand. The sight alone is enough to make his big heavy balls twitch under your curled palm and he can’t stop now. He knows he should apologize for not giving you at least a little warning of his impending release but he’s too caught up in the way your eyes lock on the thick globs of cum. It stirs something primal in him and he speaks before he’s able to register what he’s saying.

“Look what you did to me, princess… gunna have to clean this mess up, yeah?” He whispers in a raspy, breathy voice from deep in his chest and the way your eyes snap up to meet his as you lower your mouth to his still hard cock tells him that’s exactly what you wanted.

Virgin!Bakugo is not a virgin after he meets you.

#the voices!#I swear to god I can’t get this man off my mind #I’m depraved #someone sedate me #I need to be put down or something #bakugo drabble #Bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki #Bakugo #mha bakugou #mha smut #aged up bakugo #virgin bakugo #also I’m so happy our grumpy guy is alive omg

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theshinazugawaslut · 6 months ago

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Every time i see some gross fuckboy content on my timeline i come here to be at peace and comfort 😌 i love virgin men

First of all, thank you so much for letting me be your peace and comfort!

Second of all, you ain't NEVER EVER seeing fuckboy content on my page, like, EVER.

I hate that it's so normalised to write fuck-boy (or just high body count characters, I consider 3+ high personally) characters yet apparently 'unrealistic' or 'delusional' to write virgin/inexperienced men, like, just because bro acts scary or is 'too old' to be a virgin is just dumb. I know lots of men and women who are STILL chaste in their big ass ages (and if you're not, I don't care, do you).

Fuckboys are SOOOOOOO gross, I don't know why in every fanfic I read it's always like 'even though he's had so many girls, you're special!' like no please get away from me.

My page is my own safe space. I don't write boyfriends, I write HUSBANDS.

#i'm not judgy of other people i swear #but like come on #virgin men >>>#nothing's better than an inexperienced man #especially men who do it for disciplined reasons #or just outta basic respect for themselves and their future partner #which is why i love writing bakugo shoto dabi and sanemi

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mindless-existence1 · 4 months ago

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the voices are telling me about virgin bakugo and I fear I am listening 😔 after finals I might have to write a short little fic about that ngl

#Bakugo x Reader #Bkaugo fic #Virgin bakugo makes me knaw at the bars of my enclosure #SOMEBODY RESTRAIN ME #bakugo x reader smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha #my hero academia #reader insert #mha x reader

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cathnospam · 4 months ago

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“I didn’t shave—“

“I do not…give a fuck. Open your legs.”

You and Bakugo have this argument at least once a month. You only need to wax your little lady once a month after your period , and it’s about that time to do so but you have 2 problems;

Your appointment isn’t until 2 more days, and you have a boyfriend that has been waiting a full week to eat you out.

“‘Suki I told you I hate—-“

“Why do you give a fuck about that? It’s HAIR.”

“I FEEL DIRTY.”

“You just took an everything shower.”

Bakugo NEVER understood the point of shaving your pussy anyway. He genuinely does not care whether there is hair or not on it, and after having an irritating crave to eat your pussy he definitely couldn’t care less.

“It’s a bush.”

“I don’t—- y/n the area I wanna suck—“

“Don’t be a pervert.”

He deadpanned at you, the Blondie also never cared for how blunt he was with his dirty words. Just two weeks ago you and him were eating cereal when he just casually spoke, “When I get home tonight I wanna eat your pussy against the door like I did last night.” As he gets up to clean his bowl.

No emotion

And no care.

He’s a damn savage.

“Your clit don’t have hair on it it’s just the lips.”

“OMY fucking—“

“Please.”

You blink, “what…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Bakugo groans loudly and lays his head on your shoulder. And bites it, “OW!” The main reason why Bakugo haven’t let up is because you and him established a strict safe word rule. He knows he can be pushy with things he wants but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable about it. If you GENUINELY don’t want him to all you have to say is “TNT” and he’ll drop it no questions asked. And never bring it up again.

But here you are, contemplating.

Your thoughts get broken by a soft kiss on your jaw, his scarred warm palms lifting your his shirt , playfully tapping his fingers on your clothed panties, “I heard you playing with yourself in the shower.”

You freeze, feeling his devious smirk against your cheek, his natural scent and musk clouding your mind as he keeps kissing you, rubbing on your body, “You want it as bad as I do. I fucking know you do.”

“Remember last time?”

He had your knees to your ears last time, ass hanging off the edge of the bed as he spit, licked, and sucked all inside and on your pussy. His fluffy hair tickling your inner thighs, his thumbs pressing into your skin so deep you could just barely grind against his mouth. Bakugo was always a nasty ass eater to the point you were embarrassed just watching him.

His ring and middle finger swirling circles on your clit as his tongue filled your aching tight hole, the way he stops for a moment to kiss the soft little nub , nearly making out with it making you roll your eyes because his pillowy wet lips felt soooooo good against you.

You remembered how he’d slap your ass a few times when you looked away for too long or covered your mouth, you swore he’d heat up his hands slightly just to do so.

You remembered how he’d hold your ankles up and he licked stripes against your pussy and his tongue teasing your other hole.

You remembered how he’d swished his head back and fourth while his lips captured your clit and tugged on it. Sending you over the edge while he sucked and groaned. Two fingers pumping inside you.

“You remember, huh.” His raspy voice against your ear, already teasing his fingers inside you panties, “You came so much you passed out right after.”

The more he spoke to distract you the further he got, eventually laying you down on his huge couch, to pulling off your panties, to opening you legs, to kissing each thigh, and down to repeating his exact actions from last time.

And no he did NOT care about the hair.

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simpee9000 · 8 months ago

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Not Just Friends - 8 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Words 2.6k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"It's been two weeks," you pointed out, telling yourself and him.

"That doesn't mean you have to be okay already," Katsuki huffed at you, crossing his arms as he leaned against the makeup table in front of you.

You were going on for the interview that you promised that night. Truth quirk and all. They were prepping you right now for it, covering the dark circles under your eyes as they made sure to add highlights.

"I go back to work tomorrow, I want everything to be dealt with before hand," you dismissed. You wanted your plate clean so you could throw yourself fully back into work, you were itching to use the equipment. "Besides, Aizawa is here. He'll make sure to turn off the truth quirk if needed."

He grumbled, watching you intently as you got up, makeup finished and TV ready. "I don't like this." He didn't want you to go back to step one, even if you claimed to be fine.

"I know," you patted his arm, he's been trying to convince you not to. But his PR manager advise you to do it, knowing if you switched up that the public would think the worst.

An assistant knocked on the door, peeking through when you told them it was okay. "You're on in five," and with that, they left.

You swallowed nervously. "It's not to late," Katsuki offered.

"I said I'd do it, so I will," you looked yourself over in the mirror one last time, brushing your clothes smooth before you walked to the door. Katsuki following behind as you waited behind the curtain, ready for your cue. You made eye contact with Aizawa who was on the other side, next to the interviewer with a truth quirk. You gave a small wave and gained a nod back.

"Remember that you can dodge the question, it's not considered lying," Katsuki informed you for the millionth time, going down his prep list, "I studied them, they make you say the truth but not blurt it, so you have time to form your words."

"And now we have Dynamight's girlfriend," the talk show host called your name, greeting you on stage. "She'll be giving us all the details of her juicy relationship with our number two hero! All under a truth quirk." You walked onto the stage, giving Katsuki a nervous smile before turning to wave at the crowd.

It wasn't your first interview but it was the first major one. A huge live audience that filled the room. You shook hands with Gossip, the hostess nickname for the public. Shaking hands with the truth quirk interviewer as well before sitting down. Aizawa stayed off stage, ready to cancel things if needed.

"Nell, here," Gossip called attention to the truth quirk, "Known as 'Spills' will activate her quirk and ask questions about her secret relationship with Dynamight." Nell waved at her introduction, smiling brightly. "We've opened questions to the audience as well, so let's get started," Gossip grabbed a stack of cards from her desk, nodding to Nell to start.

You crossed your legs, hands clasped in your lap as you waited for the effect.

Gossip handed Nell the cards to read out. "You were the one on the phone with Dynamight two weeks ago, correct?"

"Yes, called me while I was making dinner," you laughed trying to add anything you could to the questions because you wanted good press.

"How long have you been dating?"

"Three years," you answered easily, feeling the small buzz of the truth quirk in your mind, "Since second year of high school, even though I liked him way before that." Well, you haven't meant to say that, the truth quirk making the small bit of information slip out.

Gossip grinned at what you were saying. "And you've never liked Deku? No romantic feelings there?"

"He's like my younger brother, absolutely no feelings there," you confirmed.

"You don't even find him attractive?"

"I do, just not like that. I only have eyes for Katsuki really," you didn't even know why you were anxious at this point. Part of you was worried it'd make you slip up, say something in the wrong way and make it seem like you wanted him.

"How cute!" Gossip gushed to the crowd. "Well now that we have that settled, lets get to the nitty gritty." You paled at that.

Opening your mouth the protest before Nell interrupted you, "What about Dynamight annoys you the most?"

You rolled your eyes, "He leaves his socks everywhere. Literally only his socks, everything else he is a neat freak about."

"Anything else?" they pushed for something more.

"He literally argues with himself while getting ready, calling his teeth stupid for getting dirty," you ranted, glad you had no real issue with him.

Nell and Gossip shared a look, unsure of where to go. "What do you love most about him?" the decided to switch from negatives to positives, trying to feed his fan base.

"Oh," you paused, mind swirling with too many truths, "He remembers all the small things," you settled on, talking fondly, "He bought an extra chair for his office because he knew I hated the ones he had. He might not talk a lot but he does so much."

The crowd swooned at how fondly you talked of him.

"Why are you with him?"

"Cause I love him?" you questioned back confused, paleing when you realized you haven't directly said it yet. You've been together for three years and knew you loved each other, it was just hardly, if ever, spoken.

"How about we open questions to the fans?" Gossip turned from you and pointed at someone who raised their hand.

"What's Dynamight's biggest weakness?" the crowd called out, Nell immediately asking you the question.

You froze, Aizawa was being distracted and couldn't save you. You faintly heard Katsuki's loud foot steps coming up, trying to save you.

"He loves his back being popped," you answered, truthfully, the interviews losing the spark in their eye as you didn't give good enough gossip. "Seriously, he loves it. Practically melts afterwards."

Katsuki stood next to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to stand. "This shit is done."

"Dynamight," Nell called out as Katsuki dragged you away. The truth quirk likely making him stop. "Do you seriously love her?" She spit those words out in a manner that reminded you of the break in.

"Yeah, so fuck off," he barked over his shoulder, pulling you off stage.

---

In just the drive home, your phone was blowing up entirely. You were trending on Twitter, Tiktok, and any social media already. All they needed was an hour. You scrolled through TikTok as you curled in on the couch, swiping from one video of you to another video of you. People were gushing over your relationship, loving how he protected you and how you talked about him.

It turned the fan girls more on your side, having gotten a glimpse of your life with him. They concluded that you were one of them. You even saw videos of how you cheered him on during the first-year sports festival. They took any social media post with the two of you and over-analyzed it. Talking about how you looked at each other.

"Still looking at that shit?" Katsuki called from the kitchen. Currently packing up the leftovers of dinner.

"It's cute," you defended, "They found a photo of us during graduation," you lifted your phone over the couch for him to look, hearing him shuffle over to look.

It was a photo of you two hugging after the ceremony, probably seconds after he asked you to move in with you. "This is horrible for my image," he complained as he saw the caption, "Makes me look fuckin' soft."

You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from where he leaned over the couch, "You are soft."

He scoffed, "Sure."

Humming, you got up from the couch, moving to head to your room, wanting to grab a book from a box. You hardly unpacked, your room still empty as you've been spending the past few nights in Katsuki's room.

"Hey Kats," you called from your doorway, seeing more boxes in your room than before. Probably and entire third of boxes that you didn't put there, you were at work all day, busy with meetings while Katsuki got home early.

"What?" he asked when he met you in your doorway, looking over your room.

You stepped in, glancing into an open box and seeing Katsuki's stuff filling it. "What's all this?"

"Figured with you sleepin' in my room all the time we might as well share," he crossed his arms as he shrugged, leaning into the doorframe.

"Really?" you looked up at him, taking your eyes of the open box, lighting up inside as you looked at him.

"Why not?"

You've been waiting for this since he first asked you to move, but you knew that if you freaked out he would back out. You bit back a huge smile, joy seeping through your expression regardless. "Want to set things up then?" you offered, answering his unasked question of it was okay.

He didn't give an answer before he moved in the room fully, grabbing a box of his clothes and going into the walk in closet. You stepped out of your room, seeing how his old room was empty minus a bed. Smiling, you moved back into your room, grabbing another box of his clothes and placing it beside him before grabbing your own clothes and finally unpacking. You took two of the walls of the closet, him taking the last wall, having less clothes.

Cycling through each box until they were all unpacked, your room looking like a mixture of the two of you. His comforter but your sheets on the bed, pillows stacked the way you loved and his limited edition All Might alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. The dresser being spilt for the two of you with small touches of each of you adding to the room. Giving it personality.

It made you giddy, to see everything done up as a combined. You let a bright smile grace your features as you changed for bed, Katsuki showering in the connected bathroom while you slid under the covers. You grabbed a book from your nightstand and flipped to the bookmark.

Reading through the rest of the chapter before Katsuki came out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair under a towel as he walked in. Hanging the towel up and shaking his head like a wet dog to fluff it back up. He stayed shirtless, how he's been sleeping the past few nights, and only wore his boxers.

You eyed him over your book, watching his arms flex with any simple motion he made. Eyeing him as he walked to his side of the bed, slipping under the covers fully before wrapping his arms around your waist.

The motion was surprising, filling your stomach with butterflies as you accepted his hug. You were propped up on pillows, making it easier to read with the posture, his arm slipped easily under you, his other going under your book. He squeezed light, wearily of the wound that was still present on your left side.

"Your shower is so much better than the one in the hall," he grumbled, digging his face into your shoulder. His shampoo scenting the air as you leaned your head onto his.

"Our shower," you couldn't help but correct him.

"Do we want the old room to be your office? The other mine?" he questioned.

You closed your book, setting it on the nightstand as you held onto his arm. "Maybe one can be a guest room? Your mom called and said she wants to visit," you suggested.

"That hag been callin' you often?"

You slapped his arm for how he addressed his mom, "She's worried."

"Hm," he dismissed, "I don't care."

"The interview wasn't that bad," you changed topics, "Just made me say softer versions of the truth."

He took his head off you, moving to sit up so he could look at you, "They asked you about my weakness? Do you know how bad that coulda been?"

"But it wasn't, I did what I said and nothing bad happened," you matched his glare.

He rolled his eyes, falling back onto you.

"I surprised how cuddly you are," you said, not to tease but point out.

"Fuck off," he scoffed, moving to flip away from you. You hooked your arms over his shoulders, trying to pull him back but just got flipped back over with him, letting out a squeal of surprised. Situated right on his lap, close to his face. His hands held your thighs as you straddled him unintentionally. "'m not cuddly," he pinched your thigh.

"Sure," you teased now, "That's why you've been all over me."

"I can finally touch you, think I'm not going to take advantage of it?"

You pulled back, sitting up right on his lap as you looked down at him. Brows furrowed, "Is your watch always on?"

He shrugged, "Not always, but most of the time, 'round you."

Your stomach dropped, you moved to grab his hand and saw that it was on. Turning his quirk off. "You can't use it that often," you told him, worried.

"I turn it off before I sleep," he brushed off, moving his hand away from yours.

"When was the last time it was off around me?"

"When I was asleep last night," he answered easily.

"Katsuki," you frowned, "That's not good for you, you need to turn it off." You reached for his hand again.

He snatched it out of your hand, "The fuck's your problem?"

"I don't want every time you touch me you need that stupid watch on," you complained. It made you feel disconnected from him, like he had to hide his true self.

"It's not on all the fuckin' time," he argued.

"Then you should have no problem turning it off right now," you challenged. His face was all scrunched in distaste as he looked at you.

"I don't have shit to prove."

"You're using it as a crutch," you dug, "I shoulda never built it for you."

"So you would of prefered staying how it was? Don't want me to touch you?" he argued, getting frustrated that you were upset. Defaulting into anger.

"I'd prefer you," you clarified, "The actual you that doesn't need to suppress his fucking quirk."

"I don't need anything," he hissed, "I was doing it to make you fuckin' happy but now you're all bitchy about nothing."

You widdened your eyes, pushing yourself off his lap finally and moving to your side of the bed. "You'll kill yourself," you commented, "Not having access to your quirk is deadly."

"No I won't," he huffed, not moving from where he laided.

"You're right, cause you can turn it off," you decided, "I'm not going to touch you until I know it's off."

He sat up right, "Really?" he looked down at you.

"Yep," you popped the 'p', "I only made the watch for work training, not sex training like how you're using it."

"That's ridiculous," he tried to reason.

"Well, I'm going to be 'bitchy' about something that'll kill you," you crossed your arms, standing your ground.

He shifted, "So we're going back to square one? That what you fuckin' want?"

"Sure," your chest felt tight, hating how frustrated he was. But your side made sense. "I want you alive."

"I'm not going to die."

"Yep, cause I'm not encouraging you to turn it off anymore."

"Can't kiss you or anything then," he tried to threaten, failing to change your mind.

"Okay," you shrugged. Internally mourning the loss of it already.

"Seriously?" he was in disbelief.

"Goodnight Katsuki," you turned onto your side, making him unable to look at you anymore.

When he huffed and turned away you were worried he'd leave. Go back on sharing a room. Truly test how far you were willing to go.

But all he did was adjust onto his side of the bed, angrily turning his lamp off, darkness coating the room.

At least you had that, but who knows how long you would. You clutched at your chest as you sunk in on yourself. It would suck to go back to how it was two months ago. Not being able to kiss him, or hug him freely.

You've gotten so far and had to throw it away. But it was necessary. The nitroglycerin made his heart run slowly, he needed to have his quirk flowing or you didn't know what would happen. You weren't trying to risk it so you could feel him up.

---

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

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@lvc-lv @wildernessflora @xbieditz @poemzcheng @jaxyy219 @truwaifu

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keishinsuke · 5 months ago

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no one yell at me as I am a good bakugo smut enjoyer as much as the next person but there is not a STITCH of canon content that justifies the suave persona attributed to him in fic 😭 that is a man who gets no bitches absolutely ZERO PLAY !!!

#fuck canon compliance fr #let the man get his dick wet etc and so on #it just cracks me up sometimes #can’t think too hard about it yfm #plus 30 something virgin bakugo really does it for me

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justatypicalwizard · 9 months ago

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Loved every part of it!!!!

TW..? Mentions of oral

Part 1

In as much as you loved summer for the long school break, beach days, and the opportunity to wear little clothes and even littler bikinis, you absolutely abhored the heat.

It was horrid.

And the store's air conditioning broke down the night before, so you had been stuck in the melting pot for at least three hours after you began your morning shift, three hours until the repair man came over to work on it.

And judging by the grunts he'd been making back there, you were certain you'd spend the next hour exactly how you were, sitting back in your chair behind the counter, one of the store's only three standing fans propped right infront of you and your magazine another makeshift fan.

"The fuck- I'm boiling already!"

You perked up just slightly at the groan, already recognising the voice. You turned around to face the door, a smile lighting your face as you caught sight of those four boys again.

"Yo! What brings you guys to the best sauna in Musutafu!" You sang out, still aggressively fanning yourself with the magazine.

"Sauna's definitely right." Bakugo grumbled out, slowly pulling at the collar of his shirt as he approached the counter, "Gimme some of that fan, will ya?"

"No, me!" Kaminari yelled and practically rushed forward.

"I've got high metabolism, I sweat quicker." Sero chimed in.

But you just scoffed at them, "Hello? I'm the one in here for a five hour shift. Get your own shit!" You scooted closer to the fan, soaking in all the air.

They all groaned, Bakugo louder than others, muttering something you didn't catch under his breath.

"What are you guys here for again, anyways? More drinks?" You raised a brow.

"Yep!" Sero said.

"And we wanted to invite you for a beach day." Kaminari grinned, hands on the counter as he leaned forward.

Kirishima stepped forward. "It's just us and like four other people - girls, so you shouldn't feel too overwhelmed."

You thought about it for a while. It's not like you really had any plans after your shift. So you just shrugged and nodded.

"Sure, I get off in like thirty minutes. What time?"

Which was how you found yourself near the back of the group next to Bakugo as you all made your way closer to the water.

Not only had they stayed until the end of your shift, when one of your coworkers came over to start their time, but then they'd followed you home and waited for you to take a shower and get changed.

Your mother was a bit apprehensive about having her daughter going to the beach with four guys she didn't know, but Kirishima was freakishly good with adults, reassuring her that she was in good hands.

That and they'd all pulled out their provisional hero licenses.

"Guys!" A pink skinned girl burst into your line of sight, hurling right into Kirishima. A group of three others - not pink skinned - joined in - not bulldozing the boys.

It was easy to recognise the other students of UA; their faces had become regulars on the news channel by now.

You didn't even have the chance to be awkward when Kaminari started aggressively showing you off to the girls like some action figure.

"This is YN!

She works at that convenience store we got those drinks at!

She's so cool!

Look at her!"

It had the girls laughing and greeting you, and had Bakugo scoffing, rolling his eyes as he marched away to lay down his bag on the sand.

"Hi, I'm Mina." She greeted, her hand around your wrist as she spoke. "This is Tsuyu, Jiro, and Ochako."

"YN," you responded. "I know you guys, by the way. 'Seen you on the news a few times."

"Seriously?" Jiro asked softly as she leaned into you.

"OMG- I'm literally famous now!" Mina squealed, wrapping her arms around you tightly and jumping a bit. "Did I look cute?"

You laughed, jumping with her. "Really cute. Badass, too."

"You guys! There's snacks!"

Most of you were seated now on Mina's very large blanket, the bag of snacks and drinks in the middle as you watched Mina and Kirishima have a chicken fight battle with Ochako and Sero.

"So...?" you whispered to Bakugo beside you, taking the bag of gummy bears he was currently fighting with. "How did it go?" You asked as you calmly tore the top of the bag and handed it over to him.

He glared at it for a moment, then at you, then the bag again, before snatching it and dipping his hand in.

It took him a while to answer you. "It was fine." He mumbled, willing the tips of his ears not to turn pink.

You hummed as you put your hand out to him for the gummy bears. He tilted the bag, pouring a couple into your palm. "You guys together now, or...?"

He shook his head. "Nah... just friends."

"Do you want to be together?"

Normally, Bakugo wouldn't even dream of engaging in such a conversation with someone who was practically a stranger. It was too private and too embarrassing for him to talk about. But for some reason, he couldn't help it. Your presence was too calming, too inviting even. You seemed so void of judgement.

It was what made him ask for your advice that first time, what made him ask for your number, too. And yet there was something about you that had him sweating and unable to text, had him deleting his words every time he typed them down in your chat.

"I don't know." He mumbled, eyeing how Kaminari pulled Jiro away somewhere, and how Tsuyu went over to stare at, or talk to, some of the fish, leaving only you two on the blanket.

"You don't know?" You raised a brow at him.

He huffed, keeping his eyes on the gummy bears, knowing that if he turned his head again, he probably wouldn't able to stop himself from glancing at your scantily covered skin.

"I just- out of everyone, she's the one I'd want be with. But... I don't know if I actually do." He frowned, trying to find better words to use.

But you seemed to understand just fine, reaching out your palm for another round of gummy bears. "Sounds like you like her cause she's the best option. Not that you really like her."

He was silent as he took in what you said.

"Yeah." He mumbled.

"Oi, you guys!" Sero called out to the two of you from where he was, running around in the water with Uraraka, Mina, and Kirishima. "Come on! Don't be boring!"

You chuckled at that, leaning forward to push yourself to stand.

"Hey," Bakugo quickly whispered to you, his hand reaching out to hold your wrist, stopping you just before you could get up. "Don't go yet."

And there was something in the way he said it, the intensity of his eyes, that had you stopping, relaxing back into your position before he pulled his hand away.

He looked back at Kirishima, "I'm not playing with you idiots!" He yelled in true Bakugo fashion.

"YN?" Kirishima called out to you.

You just offered him a wave and a smile. "Later."

He shrugged, going back to running from Kiri and Uraraka.

You turned back to Bakugo. "You don't want to join them?" You asked, collecting another round of gummies.

He shook his head, eyes on your hand as they dipped into the plastic bag. "They're idiots."

You hummed, laughing softly as you popped some gummies into your mouth. "And I'm not?"

He looked up at you, brows set low, and lips curled downwards. "You're not."

Maybe it was how he said it, or how he looked at you as he said it, but your stomach tightened a bit, and suddenly, Bakugo was attractive.

You looked at him as he pressed forward to grab another pack of gummies from the bag, watching the way the muscles of his back stretched and contracted, the flow of his hair, his jaw, his neck, his biceps and forearms.

He tossed you the bag instantly as he sat back down, and you smirked at him cheekily as you tore it open.

"Can't open a bag, Bakugo?" You teased.

He turned to glare at you, snatching the bag. "My quirk makes my hands sweaty." He scoffed, picking up some gummy bears.

Then he looked at you for a long moment before speaking up again. "I'm gonna go wash them. Come."

He stood up, and you followed suit, walking after him as he led the way to the washroom, both of you ignoring the looks you knew you were getting from the others.

You stood next to the sink as Bakugo washed his hands, eyeing the pale tiled walls and floors. "So... you sweat a lot?" You raised a brow.

He turned to glare at you as he dried his hands under the blower. "That's what you got from the explanation?" He'd just explained the entire mechanism of his quirk, and all you could say was that he sweats a lot?

You shrugged, an amused look on your face. "That's the backbone to it, honestly. Bakugo's a sweaty-palmed mess." You chuckled.

He shook his head in mock disappointment, sighing. "What am I going to do with you?"

You grinned. "Get me more gummies...?" You laughed.

He scoffs before looking down at his hands in distaste, thumbing at his palms. "This shit always makes them so fucking dry."

You glanced down at his palms before reaching out to hold on, rubbing aggressively on it.

"The fuck are you doing?" He says, but doesn't bother to pull away, he steps closer, so now you feel surrounded by him.

"I don't know. But my friend likes doing this when her hands are dry. She says it helps." You shrug, your mouth going dry.

"It's not working." He says to you. And his voice is lower than usual, breathier.

You let out a soft hum, your lower lip caught between your lips as you slow your ministrations. And just as you're about to let go of his hands, he grips yours, keeping you close and leaning down to catch your lips with his.

Your surprise is short, and you're immediately wrapping your other hand around his neck and kissing him back. His lips are soft, softer than what you'd expected.

And he's gentler, too. His free hand comes to softly hold your waist as he kisses you, mouth moving against yours so softly, so sensually, you're almost squirming.

He licks into your mouth expertly, tongue relaxed as he explores, drawing more mewls from you.

You pull away for a moment. "There's no way you were a virgin a week ago." You furrow your brows at, breathing heavily, your faces still close to each other, and your hand still clasped around the back of his neck. The way this boy is staring at you and breathing into your lips has you dizzy.

"I hadn't fucked doesn't mean I can't kiss. I'm amazing at everything." He retorts before he presses into your lips again.

"You practice kissing in the mirror, right?" You pull away again with a shit eating grin.

He glares and leans back in.

"Oh, I am so right, aren't I?" You pull away again.

"No, you just talk too fucking much." He spits out in frustration as he lets go of your hand, both of his palms now tightly gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him.

He crashes his lips into yours, backing you into the door and pressing his bare chest against your bikini covered one. Bakugo groans into your mouth when he feels your breasts flat against him, his lips growing greedy.

One of your hands is tracing the muscles of his abdomen, gliding up and down the hard ridges of flesh contracting with each deep groan from his mouth, whilst the other is in his hair, pushing his face closer.

You spend what feels like an hour in there, Bakugo's mouth attacking every inch of free skin his lips could reach, groaning at the sounds you made when his fingers were gliding down your stomach, dipping into your bikini bottoms and into you.

When you finally get back to the beach, everyone is on the blanket, and even Jiro and Kaminari are back. You'd cum once on his tongue, though it'd taken a while with his inexperience and you having to keep giving pointers on how to touch you with his fingers and his tongue.

But he was willing to learn and even more willing to make you feel good. And you'd rewarded him by shoving his dick down your throat.

"You guys took a while," Mina commented with a sly look on her face when you and Bakugo sat back down.

The latter just grunted, grabbing the last bag of gummies as he sat down next to Kirishima, shifting slightly so you could sit next to him.

You gave her a look before mumbling a quick lie about a long line and poor plumbing. Not like anyone believed. That and the fact that Bakugo just casually gave you the pack of gummy bears to open for him.

"Sure." Mina murmured.

You couldn't be bothered, really. And neither could he.

Tags: @lovra974 @khadeejanaur

#but who did Bakugo lose his virginity with!?!!?#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader

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fangdokja · 22 days ago

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"Go on, use my face, pretty girl. Ride me like you mean it."

❤︎ Synopsis. They swore they’d take their time, stay in control—but the moment their lips met your cunt, something snapped. Now, they’re ravenous, insatiable, worshiping you with a hunger that borders on madness, desperate to drown in the very thing that’s ruining them.

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Soft! Modern AU! Various x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Characters Include. Nerd! Gojo, Biker! Soft! Sukuna, Professor! Half-Dragon! Rex Lapis, Academic Rival! Alhaitham, Older Brother! Sunday, Father! Human! Boothill, Step Brother! Caleb, Bully! Soft! Bakugo, Fuckboy! Atsumu, Virgin! Barou

♡ Kidnapper x Captor Series. The Thirsting - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 10,703 (about 1K each character)

♡ TW. dom + top + older + soft sadist yanderes, non-con + rape, BDSM + DDLG, incest, unhealthy oral sex, mature language, forced orgasms, overstimulation, food play, inappropriate use of kinks, degradation + humiliation, implied blackmail, public sex, physical assault, slapping + spanking + biting + slight choking, fingering, unwilling arousal, date drugging, general manipulation + gaslighting + abuse + trauma, abuse of authority, slight brat taming

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐝! 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 ✦✧✦✧

He’s already grinning by the time you open your eyes.

"Ah, finally awake? Took you long enough, sweetheart."

Your body doesn't respond immediately—slow, sluggish, barely able to process the strange scent lingering in the air. Something sweet, sticky, saccharine. It makes your stomach turn.

The room is dimly lit, shadows flickering across the walls from a single desk lamp. Your wrists ache. A dull, throbbing pain blooms from where they’re restrained above your head, tied to the headboard with something that’s not quite rope. Something silkier, softer—but unyielding all the same.

Gojo’s sitting at the edge of the bed, his glasses gone, those pale blue eyes sharper in the dark. His mouth is already curved into something smug, something too pleased. The expression makes your skin prickle, like you've just stepped into a trap you hadn't noticed until now.

"You’ve been sleeping like a baby. Thought about waking you up, but you looked so cute all helpless like that." His voice drips honey, laced with something more dangerous. "Not to mention—you were drooling a little. Kind of adorable, really."

You twist, testing your restraints, but the silk doesn't budge. His smirk widens, pleased by the feeble struggle.

"Now, now. No need for that. You’ll only make it worse for yourself."

The sickly sweet scent in the air intensifies, and it’s then you notice the bowl sitting beside him. A small, glass dish filled with something glossy and thick. Melted chocolate. A silver spoon rests against the edge, coated in the dark substance.

Your stomach churns. Your mouth feels too dry.

"Ah, you noticed?" His grin stretches, impossibly wide. "You know, I was thinking. You're always so cold to me, so resistant. And that's fine, really. I like a little chase." His fingers dip into the bowl, swirling lazily before lifting, glossy with chocolate. He holds it up, inspecting the way it drips. "But I'm such a generous guy, you know? I believe in positive reinforcement. A little bit of sugar, and suddenly everything is easier to swallow."

His fingers are at your lips before you can twist away, smearing the thick chocolate against them. The scent is overwhelming, rich and decadent.

"C'mon, open up for me."

You don’t.

His smirk doesn’t waver. "Always so difficult."

And then his fingers are pressing in, forcing past your lips, past your teeth, pressing against your tongue. The taste floods your mouth—bittersweet, heavy. You gag, but he doesn’t let up, pushing deeper, his knuckles brushing against your chin.

"Good girl. See? It’s not so bad."

Your breath stutters when he finally withdraws his fingers, a wet pop accompanying the movement. He watches the way your tongue flicks against the roof of your mouth, the way your throat works to swallow it down. He looks... delighted.

"You should really learn to appreciate the finer things in life, sweetheart. I mean, c’mon." His fingers trail down, dragging chocolate along your collarbone, sticky lines painting your skin. "Doesn't it feel good to be pampered a little?"

You flinch when he moves lower, when his hands slip beneath the sheets, shoving them down in one smooth motion. The cool air prickles against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his touch. His fingers skate over your stomach, slow and teasing, trailing towards your thighs.

"Mmm, I've been waiting for this." His voice dips, almost affectionate. "You're always running that pretty mouth, but I know your body’s honest." His thumb strokes slow circles along your inner thigh, watching the way your breath stutters, watching the way your body flinches against itself. "You know, I read somewhere that taste can be directly linked to pleasure. Makes sense, right?"

The realization sinks in too late.

The spoon clinks against the bowl again, and you barely manage to squirm before something warm, wet, and sticky drips between your legs.

Your body jolts.

The chocolate slides over your skin, down your folds, thick and cloying. It pools at the cleft of your thighs, the sensation foreign, humiliating.

Gojo hums appreciatively. "Pretty. You wear it well."

His hands are spreading your thighs wider, holding you open as he surveys his work. The hunger in his gaze is unmistakable.

"I wonder…" He dips a finger into the mess, swirling idly before dragging it up, pressing it against your clit. The sensation is immediate—warm and slick, a contrast that sends heat sparking up your spine. "Ah, look at you. You always act so cold, but here you are, melting already."

You jolt when his head dips low, the realization making you jolt hard against the restraints.

"W- wait, Gojo—"

"Shhh."

And then his tongue is there, hot and wet and insistent.

The breath is knocked from your lungs. The contrast is jarring—the cool air against the warmth of his mouth, the stickiness of the chocolate, the wet drag of his tongue. He moans against you, loud and unashamed, sucking, licking, devouring.

He’s messy.

Too messy.

His mouth works greedily, tongue flicking against your clit before dipping down, swirling against your entrance. The obscene sounds fill the room—his wet slurping, his breathy groans, the squelch of chocolate and spit mixing between your legs.

"F-fuck," he pants between licks, voice thick with lust. "You taste fucking good."

Your stomach twists, mortified. Your wrists strain against the silk bindings, but his grip on your thighs is vice-like, his fingers digging bruises into your skin as he holds you still.

"S-stop—" Your voice is weak, broken, barely above a whisper.

He laughs against you, the vibrations making your body jerk involuntarily. "Why? You don’t like sweets?" His tongue presses flat against you, licking another slow, deliberate stripe. "Or do you just not like me eating you up like one?"

His fingers join the assault, slick with chocolate and spit, pressing inside without preamble. Your walls clench around him, an involuntary reaction that earns a groan from deep in his chest.

"Shit," he breathes, curling his fingers, stretching you open. "You feel so fucking good." His tongue flicks against your clit, quick and relentless, sending sharp jolts of unwanted pleasure up your spine.

You hate it.

You hate how your body reacts.

Hate how his voice turns breathy and wrecked, how he sounds almost delirious. Pussy drunk. Obsessed. Like he can’t get enough, like he’s been starving for this.

His hips rut against the mattress, desperate for friction. He moans into your cunt, tongue pushing deeper, fingers pressing harder. He sounds ruined.

And the worst part?

You think he likes this more than he ever should.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫! 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 ✦✧✦✧

He doesn’t fucking eat pussy.

Never has. Never needed to.

Women begged to suck his dick. Lined up for it. Bent over for it. Any time, any place, like obedient little pets, desperate to be used. It was supposed to be the natural order—he takes, they give. That’s how it worked. That’s how he made it work.

But you? You don’t fucking break right. And that pisses him off.

You’re nothing special, not in the way women usually are. Not a bombshell, not dolled up, not preening for male attention like the sluts he’s used to. Quiet. Smart. Always in your own head, barely sparing him a glance. Some stuck-up little freak who thinks she’s better than him just because she doesn’t drop her panties the second he whistles.

He should’ve hated you.

And he does. But not enough to keep himself from wanting to tear you apart.

Not enough to stop himself from pressing your shaking legs apart, sliding his hands beneath your thighs, and spreading you wide open like he owns you. Because he does. He’s going to make sure of it.

But this.

This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen.

His mouth is on you. And he can’t fucking stop.

His tongue works against your slit, lapping up the slick that coats your soft folds. At first, it was just to see you break—to hear you sob, to make you feel the humiliation of being forced open and devoured by the man you loathe. He wanted you to cry harder, beg, push against his head while he grinned into your cunt.

He didn’t expect to like it.

Didn’t expect it to make his head spin, to make his cock ache so fucking bad his vision goes hazy. Didn’t expect your taste to drag him under like a riptide, his fingers gripping your hips too hard, nails sinking in to hold you still so he can—

What the fuck is wrong with him? He doesn’t do this.

Doesn’t fucking need to.

And yet here he is, burying his tongue into your pussy like a fucking starved man, like an animal, like something feral and unchained. It pisses him off, makes his blood boil, but that only fuels him to go harder, to press his tongue deeper, to flick and suck and force himself to drink you down like some kind of fucking addict.

Your sobs turn into ragged, broken sounds. Gasping. Whimpering. Your thighs twitch, trying to press closed, but he pries them apart again, furious. No fucking way. He’s not letting you hide from him. Not after this. Not after you made him feel this way.

Your body betrays you before you can protest.

A shudder rips through you as his tongue curls around your clit, and your stomach tenses, your hands flying to push at his shoulders—

“Fucking don’t.” His voice is dark, raw, spoken against the mess between your legs. You freeze. He barely recognizes his own voice. He barely recognizes himself.

He’s panting. His breath is ragged, his mouth soaked in you, his grip white-knuckled and bruising where he holds you down. His cock is rock-hard, throbbing against the rough denim of his jeans, and all he can think about is shoving it inside you, fucking you so deep you never recover from it.

But instead, he’s still here. Still eating you out. Still losing his fucking mind over it.

His tongue flicks over your clit again, then again, then again, punishing, relentless, until your back arches and you keeeen—

And fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your cunt clenches in response, a weak little tremor that has his own body reacting like he’s just been shot. He grips your thighs so hard they’ll bruise, presses his tongue in so deep he might suffocate himself. His mind is white-hot static. The taste of you is the only thing that exists, and he hates you for it. Hates you because he likes this, because he’s never let himself like anything this much.

Your body writhes beneath him, hips jerking, as if you could escape. He growls against your clit, sucking hard, punishing, wrecking, until—

A scream rips from your throat.

You shatter against him, thighs trembling violently, your cunt pulsing with the force of your orgasm, and he doesn’t let up.

He won’t let up.

His jaw aches. His lips are swollen, tongue raw, fingers buried into your flesh so hard he might leave scars. He doesn’t fucking care. He’s starving. He needs more. More of you, more of this, more of the thing he never should have allowed himself to touch in the first place.

And when he finally pulls back, his face is drenched. His pupils are blown, his breath harsh, his cock aching so bad he might pass out from it.

You’re shaking, a sobbing mess, your body limp from the aftershocks. And when you open your mouth—maybe to beg, maybe to curse, maybe to sob his name—he cuts you off with a sharp, guttural snarl:

“Shut the fuck up.”

You don’t listen, voice cracking around a sob. His expression twists.

He stands. Grabs you.

Flips you onto your stomach.

Yanks your ass up, shoves your face down.

He can’t think anymore. Can’t breathe anymore. And it’s your fucking fault.

So now? Now you’re going to pay for it.

His belt hits the floor.

His jeans follow.

His cock presses against the slick mess he made between your thighs, head throbbing, burning, soaked in his own precum and your own unwilling release.

He fists your hair, yanks your head back to hiss in your ear—

“I don’t eat pussy.”

And then he shoves inside.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫! 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧! 𝐑𝐞𝐱 𝐋𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐬 ✦✧✦✧

He watches you struggle in your seat, back pressed against the polished wood of his office chair, the cold leather beneath you a contrast to the fire burning in his golden eyes. Rex Lapis—your professor, your sponsor, your guardian—leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, as though contemplating a matter of academic gravity rather than the trembling girl before him.

“You disappoint me.”

Three words. Measured. Heavy. They slide down your spine like a branding iron, burning you in a way far worse than any physical punishment he’s given before. The weight of his disappointment is worse than the sharpest reprimand. Worse than the lash of his tongue in class, where he berates you for careless mistakes, where he calls you an ‘insipid little girl who refuses to learn.’

But here? In his private office? The words take on a different meaning. One that makes your stomach coil tight, a snake of dread slithering into your gut.

“I have given you everything,” he muses, tilting his head ever so slightly, golden eyes sharpening. “This school. This future. My sponsorship. And yet… you squander it.”

He stands. The slow, deliberate movement makes your breath hitch. He is all sharp angles and coiled strength, honed through centuries of war, battle-hardened from an age where men ripped each other apart for the right to breathe.

“I expect more from you.” He takes a step forward, and your legs press tighter together instinctively. His lips curl.

“Ah. There it is,” he murmurs, almost amused. “That resistance. That little streak of defiance.”

A calloused hand finds your chin, gripping, tilting your face up to meet his stare. Your breath catches in your throat. His fingers tighten. Just enough to remind you of your place.

“You are too easily distracted. Too easily led astray.” His thumb brushes your lower lip. His eyes darken. “I must break that.”

Your pulse spikes. “Professor—”

The slap comes swift, a sharp crack echoing through the silence. Your head snaps to the side, cheek burning. A whimper stumbles from your lips before you can swallow it down.

“Ah. There’s the voice I prefer.”

He grips your thighs next, wrenches them apart. You yelp, fingers clawing at his arms, his wrists—anywhere you can reach—but he is immovable. Unshakable.

“Still fighting? Still so stubborn?” His chuckle is dark, condescending. “You never learn.”

The next moment, his mouth is on you.

A cry rips from your throat. His teeth sink into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, a cruel nip before his tongue laves over the spot, soothing, claiming. He drags his mouth higher, lips ghosting over your untouched heat.

You thrash.

“No, no, no—”

Your pleas are swallowed by the sharp crack of another slap, this one landing against the softness of your thigh. Heat blossoms in its wake, burning, humiliating. He does it again. And again. Until the pain blurs into something else. Until your legs tremble and your body betrays you.

“You are mine to correct.”

His voice is muffled, spoken against your most intimate place. Then his tongue—oh, his forked tongue. It flicks, teases, before delving deep, as if seeking to taste the very essence of your disobedience. He groans, the vibrations sending a jolt through your spine. His clawed fingers dig into your hips, holding you down, forcing you to take every flick, every roll, every punishing suckle.

Your nails dig into the arms of the chair, but the leather offers no mercy. No salvation.

His pace is brutal. Unrelenting.

He devours you like a starving beast, tongue pushing into you, twisting, drinking in every reaction, every flinch, every shudder. Your thighs try to snap shut around his head, but he growls, a warning, a threat, and forces them wider, fingers bruising your flesh.

“You taste…” A sharp nip. A long, slow lap. “Sweet, despite your sins.”

You whimper, body taut with shame, with fear, with the overwhelming sensation of being utterly at his mercy.

His fingers ghost over your entrance before shoving inside, two at once. You choke on a sob, body arching off the chair, but his other hand presses down on your stomach, keeping you trapped beneath his touch.

“Already squeezing me,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Your body knows its master well.”

His fingers curl, dragging against that devastatingly sensitive spot inside you. Your legs jerk. He smirks against you, tongue never stopping, lapping, sucking, owning.

Pussy-drunk.

That’s what he is.

Lost in you. Lost in the taste, in the heat, in the way you tremble under him, helpless and ruined.

Your body shakes. Your nails scrape against his scalp, pushing, pulling, desperate to get him away, desperate for him to stop.

He only laughs.

Cruel.

Sadistic.

Then he bites down on your clit.

A sharp, brutal jolt of pain sends your mind spiraling, white-hot and blinding. Your scream is muffled by his large palm suddenly clamping over your mouth.

“Hush,” he warns, breath fanning against your soaked skin. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear how depraved you are.”

He slaps your thigh again. Sharp. Stinging.

“Ungrateful little thing.”

Another slap.

You sob, muffled against his palm, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Perhaps I should keep you here all night,” he muses, licking up the evidence of his torment. “Until you finally understand who you belong to.”

Your body betrays you again. Your stomach coils, tension tightening to an unbearable point. He feels it.

He grins.

Then he buries his face between your thighs once more, drinking in your ruin.

“You will not fail me again,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your trembling body. “You will be better. You will be mine.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥! 𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ✦✧✦✧

He never considered himself an impulsive man. Logic dictated every action, every carefully weighed decision. But tonight, your laughter, your distracted eyes lingering on another man's lips, your voice—so sweet, so ignorant—became the fault line that split apart the foundation of his restraint.

Alhaitham’s fingers brush against the rim of his glass, his gaze shadowed beneath the dim dormitory light. The scent of ink and parchment lingers, mingling with the faint trace of something sweeter—something chemical, dissolving into the depths of your drink as you chatter away, oblivious.

The aphrodisiac is slow-acting, calibrated precisely. He'd tested it, measured its potency down to the molecule. No room for error. No risk of overdose. Just enough to make you pliant, fevered—enough to make you need him.

“Do you always stare this much when we’re studying?”

Your voice is teasing, but there’s wariness beneath it. You’ve always been sharp, frustratingly so. A perfect rival, an infuriating thorn. A woman so brilliant yet so blind. Alhaitham schools his expression, feigning nonchalance as he flips a page in his research journal.

“Your arguments are flawed,” he mutters, eyes dragging across the words rather than meeting your gaze. “I assumed prolonged exposure to my intellect would have improved your reasoning skills, but apparently, I overestimated you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, but you don’t notice the slight tremor in your hands as you grip your pen. Not yet. The change is gradual—first, the warmth spreading through your skin, then the subtle, disorienting haze slipping over your mind.

Minutes pass. Then more. Your breath hitches. You shift uncomfortably, legs pressing together beneath the table. A sheen of sweat glistens at your temple, and when you blink up at him, there’s a flicker of something vulnerable in your expression.

“…I think I need some air.”

He smiles. It’s almost genuine. “Do you?”

You move to stand, but your knees buckle. His chair scrapes against the floor as he rises—too quick, too measured. You don’t even have time to recoil before his arms are around you, steadying you with an ease that feels rehearsed.

His hand splays over the small of your back. His breath ghosts against your ear. You’re trembling now, caught in the precise balance between confusion and need, between fear and the slow, traitorous hunger unfurling in your stomach.

“I can help you,” he murmurs, voice smooth, unshaken. “Let me.”

Panic flickers in your gaze. “Alhaitham…? What did you…?”

Your lips part, perhaps to accuse him, perhaps to beg. It doesn’t matter. He’s already moving, already pulling you into the abyss he’s so meticulously crafted.

✦✧✦✧

The mattress dips beneath you as he settles between your legs. You’re too weak to push him away now, too lost in the fever. He watches, mesmerized, as your body writhes, helpless against the storm of sensations overtaking you.

His hands part your thighs, and the sight of you—panting, squirming, slick with an unwilling desire that only he can soothe—renders him breathless.

Alhaitham is a scholar. A man of reason. But nothing in his studies, nothing in his countless observations of you, could have prepared him for this.

You whimper, trying to twist away, but he grips your thighs, holding you open with a strength that leaves bruises. “Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, voice heavy with something dark, something possessive. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Tears well in your eyes, a denial forming on your lips, but then he leans down, pressing his mouth against the burning heat of your core.

You choke on a gasp, your body jolting as if struck by lightning.

He groans against you, tongue dragging slow, deliberate paths through your wetness. The taste of you is intoxicating—salty, sweet, unwilling. He drinks it in, lost, consumed, enslaved to the very thing he’s taken.

Your thighs try to snap shut, but his grip is unrelenting. Every inch of your skin beneath his fingers is branded, owned. His tongue flicks against your clit, and your sobbing moan is the most exquisite sound he’s ever heard.

He’s never done this before, never touched another body like this, but it doesn’t matter. He’s studied anatomy, observed every nuance of your reactions. He knows what makes you shudder, what makes your breath hitch, what forces pleasure through your resistance like an invasive sickness.

His fingers slip inside you without preamble, and your back arches, a sob breaking past your lips. He curls them, stroking deep, ruthless in his precision, in the way he tears you apart.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your cunt, pulling back just enough to watch your flushed, tear-streaked face. “You taste…” He licks into you again, groaning. “Better than I expected.”

Your walls clench around him, betraying you, and his eyes darken.

You can’t stop this. Can’t stop him. The aphrodisiac won’t let you. Your own body won’t let you.

The thought terrifies you.

But it excites him.

He’s hard, aching, unbearably so. His free hand moves to unfasten his belt, but he doesn’t stop devouring you, doesn’t stop sucking at the swollen bud of your clit until your cries turn breathless, high-pitched.

Your pleasure isn’t supposed to matter. And yet, the idea of pulling it from you—ripping it from your unwilling body, forcing you to fall apart beneath him—is the most arousing thing he’s ever imagined.

He needs more. More of your taste, more of your sounds, more of the helpless tremble in your limbs as he ruins you.

His name leaves your lips—a broken sob, a plea—but he doesn’t stop.

He wouldn’t dream of stopping.

Because you are his.

You just don’t realize it yet.

Your orgasm slams into you without warning. Your body jerks, a cry ripped from your throat as you shatter, pleasure crashing over you in unbearable waves. Alhaitham groans against you, lapping up every drop, refusing to let you go even as you twitch, oversensitive and gasping.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with arousal. “But we’re not done.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his face drenched in your slick, his gaze dark, unreadable.

He licks his lips.

“I need more data.”

You’re boneless beneath him now, chest heaving, skin flushed and damp. Your eyes, half-lidded, glisten with tears. He watches the rise and fall of your breath, the tremor in your fingers as you try—weakly, pathetically—to push him away.

He catches your wrist. Presses a kiss to your pulse. Feels it hammer beneath his lips.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, voice a hushed vow, a cruel promise. “Aren’t you?”

Your lips tremble. You shake your head.

He smiles.

Then he undoes his belt.

And logic no longer holds any meaning.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 ✦✧✦✧

The marble floors are cold beneath his bare feet. He’s already stripped off his tie and jacket, the once-pristine image of class and composure unraveling thread by thread. His fingers brush his lips absently, tongue darting out to chase the phantom taste of you. He had barely begun, and yet his body thrums with insatiable hunger.

He is supposed to be above this.

But you make him lose himself.

His breath comes slow and measured, yet his eyes gleam with something sharp, something ruthless. You tremble against the silken sheets beneath you, the remnants of your protests still lingering in the air, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. Not when your scent is still thick on his tongue. Not when his fingers are pressing against your trembling thighs, parting them as if they belong to him.

Because they do.

“You’re shaking,” he muses, voice velvet smooth, a gentle mockery that makes your stomach twist. “I haven’t even started yet.”

He relishes in the fear flashing across your gaze, the way your lips part—not in invitation, but in refusal. It’s cute. Almost sweet. The way you still think you have a say in this.

Sunday sighs, long and drawn out, as if disappointed.

“Why do you fight me on this?” His fingers trail up your thigh, featherlight yet firm. You flinch, and his smile widens, something serene—angelic, almost.

“It’s as if you don’t understand.” He leans in, slow, inexorable. The warmth of his breath fans over your throat. “This was inevitable.”

You jerk when his lips brush your collarbone. A soft laugh vibrates against your skin, his fingers pressing deeper into your flesh. He could hold you down if he wanted to—force you apart, break you in half. But there’s no need for that. He’s far more patient than you deserve.

And besides, you’ll learn soon enough.

Your lips part to speak, but he shushes you, his thumb pressing against your lower lip, dragging it down ever so slightly. His pupils are blown wide, drunk off your scent, your taste.

“I should punish you,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded, as if lost in prayer. “For making me wait. For making me suffer.”

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. He wants to savor this.

His mouth trails lower, pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, his hands mapping out every trembling inch of you. When he parts your legs wider, you squeeze your eyes shut, breath hitching as cool air kisses your damp skin.

“Look at you,” he breathes, reverence laced with something dark, something dangerous. “You say no, but your body…” He exhales softly, almost dazed. “Your body is so, so honest.”

Your nails dig into the sheets, and he laughs again, breath ghosting over your thighs. He lets you feel the weight of his stare, the heat of his breath, the unbearable anticipation that coils tight in your stomach.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

You make a sound—a whimper, a plea, it hardly matters. Because the moment you do, he descends.

His tongue presses against you, slow, deliberate, savoring. A broken moan slips from his lips, muffled against your folds. He hums, pleased, eyes fluttering shut as he drowns himself in the taste of you.

“So sweet,” he groans, his grip tightening around your thighs, forcing them open. “So perfect.”

Your breath stutters, a choked whimper escaping as his tongue moves with sinful precision, flicking against your clit, then dragging down to lap at your entrance.

He’s ravenous. Starved. Every stroke of his tongue is indulgent, worshipful, yet possessive in a way that makes your stomach churn.

You try to push him away—your fingers tangling in his hair, weakly attempting to shove him back. But the moment you do, his grip turns bruising, a warning growl vibrating against your core.

“Ungrateful,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His lips are glistening, his breath heavy, pupils blown wide with something terrifying. “You fight me even now?”

Your fingers tremble against his scalp, and he smiles—slow, cruel.

“I’ll have to fix that.”

Before you can react, his mouth is on you again, his tongue delving deep, curling inside you. He groans as your walls flutter around him, as your thighs twitch against his hold. His nose brushes against your clit, his grip keeping you still as he devours you whole.

His world narrows to this—to you. The taste, the heat, the way your body clenches and trembles under his touch. He’s dizzy with it, drunk off it, his thoughts clouded with nothing but the primal need to consume.

You sob when he sucks your clit between his lips, the pleasure sharp, unbearable. His fingers join the assault, pressing inside you, stretching you open as if molding you to fit him.

His free hand drags up your stomach, pressing against the soft flesh, feeling the way you spasm under his touch. His lips part, a broken moan spilling out as he flicks his tongue against your swollen nub, never once relenting.

“Give it to me,” he murmurs, half-dazed, half-commanding. “I want it. I want all of it.”

Your body betrays you, pleasure ripping through your spine, leaving you breathless, trembling, undone. You sob as your climax crashes over you, your body writhing against the sheets, against him.

But he doesn’t stop.

Not when you whimper, not when you try to push him away, not when tears slip down your cheeks, and certainly not when you beg.

Because it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

His lips move against your oversensitive flesh, relentless, insatiable. His fingers curl inside you, coaxing more, demanding more. Your thighs twitch, your back arching against the overwhelming sensation, but he doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

Not until you’ve broken completely.

“I told you, little sister.” His voice is a breathy whisper, almost regretful. “You only need me.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧! 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦✧✦✧

The room stinks of old wood and cigarette smoke, a haze of whiskey and sweat clinging to the air. The walls creak, ancient with dust and decay, pressing in like a silent audience. You don’t move. You don’t breathe. The only sound is the soft hum of the ceiling fan, slow, deliberate rotations slicing through the quiet.

Then, his voice. Low. Drawling. Dripping with amusement.

"Darlin’, reckon you know why yer sittin’ there all stiff-like."

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your body is frozen in place, perched on the edge of a bed that feels too large, too suffocating. The door is locked. You heard the click behind you when he walked in, boots heavy against the floorboards, the distinct jingle of his belt unbuckling echoing in the suffocating air.

Boothill tilts his head, pushing the brim of his cowboy hat up with a lazy finger. Those sharp grey eyes glint under the dim light, dragging over you like a slow, cruel brand. He looks at you the way a starving animal sizes up fresh meat.

"Aw, darlin’… ain’t no need to look so damn scared. Ain’t like I’m gonna bite." His grin is a razor-thin slash across his face. "Unless y’want me to."

You swallow, pressing your thighs together, fingers knotting in the fabric of your dress. But it doesn’t matter. He notices everything. The way your breath catches. The slight shiver running through you. The way your knees twitch inward, like you think that’ll stop him.

He steps forward. Closer.

"Go on now," he murmurs, voice syrup-thick and full of wicked intent. "Spread ‘em."

You shake your head. A mistake. The rejection makes his expression shift, the casual amusement twisting into something darker, hungrier.

His knee presses between your thighs, forcing them apart, and you gasp. He leans in, breath hot against your cheek, the scent of tobacco and whiskey filling your lungs.

"Ain’t like you got much say in it, sugar," he whispers. "We both know that."

His hands are rough, calloused from years of hard work, gripping your thighs and dragging them further apart. The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, drowning out everything but him—his breath, his heat, the weight of his stare as he drinks in the sight of you.

"Ain’t this a damn shame," Boothill tuts, sliding his fingers up, slow, teasing, barely grazing where you don’t want him. "Gotta teach ya how to be obedient."

Your breath stutters as he hooks his fingers around the edge of your panties and yanks them down. The cool air hits your bare skin, sending a violent shudder through you. He groans at the sight, his pupils blowing wide.

"Fuckin’ hell, darlin’… look atcha. Y’look real pretty when yer scared."

You whimper, a fresh wave of humiliation and horror surging through you. He doesn’t care. If anything, it fuels him.

His mouth finds your inner thigh, teeth scraping against soft flesh. The wet heat of his tongue follows, slow and indulgent, dragging up the sensitive skin. The sharp stubble on his jaw scratches as he moves, teasing, tormenting, making you squirm.

"Shhh, sweetheart. Don’t fight it. Let daddy take care of ya."

The words make you choke.

His tongue flicks out, dragging a wet stripe right over your slit, and you jolt violently, a strangled gasp ripping from your throat.

"Oh-ho," Boothill chuckles darkly, voice muffled against your skin. "Sensitive lil’ thing, huh?"

His grip tightens on your thighs, locking you in place as he presses his mouth against you, slow, savoring the way you twitch and struggle.

"Fuckin’ divine…" he groans, rolling his tongue over you, licking you open like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. "Holy shit, darlin’—ya taste so sweet, might get drunk off ya."

You let out a broken sound, hands flying to his hair to push him away—but that only makes him groan deeper, rumbling against your core.

"Nah, sugar. That’s real fuckin’ cute, but ya ain’t goin’ nowhere."

He sucks hard, the obscene sound of his mouth working against you filling the room. It’s too much. Too wet, too hot, too depraved. His tongue pushes inside, curling, tasting, licking, and he moans like he’s the one being pleasured.

"S’like honey," he slurs, his voice pussy-drunk, heavy with lust. "Fuck, darlin’… need more."

You shake your head wildly, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, hands spreading you wider as he devours you, the slick noises mixing with his groans. He grinds his hips into the mattress, rutting against it like a desperate man, like just tasting you is enough to get him off.

"Mmm, yeah, sugar," he grunts, sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it again and again until your legs shake violently. "Give it up for me."

You sob. Your body betrays you, trembling under his ruthless tongue, the unwanted pleasure blurring into something unbearable. He knows. He can feel it. The way your thighs quiver. The way your breathing turns ragged. The way your body—traitorous, weak—reacts to him.

"Atta girl," he growls. "Fuckin’ knew ya’d be sweet on my tongue."

Your vision blurs, the pressure building unbearable, twisting into something shameful, something you don’t want but can’t fight. Boothill doesn’t let up. He’s relentless, dragging you right to the edge, his hands gripping you so tight you’ll have bruises tomorrow.

"C’mon now, sugar," he coaxes. "Be a good girl an’ cum all over daddy’s tongue."

Tears streak down your cheeks. You shake your head, a final desperate denial—but then he moans, vibrating against your clit, and your body locks up with a strangled cry.

Pleasure crashes over you like a violent tide, dragging you under, drowning you. You convulse against him, and he groans like he’s the one coming, drinking you in, licking up every last drop as you shatter beneath him.

"Fuuuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Shit! Damn." He pulls back, licking his lips, his chin glistening with you. "Knew ya’d be the best fuckin’ thing I ever tasted."

You barely register the rustling of fabric, the clinking of his belt.

"Now," Boothill drawls, voice thick with arousal, "reckon it’s ‘bout time we get to the real fun."

Your stomach drops.

He grins down at you, his cock hard, leaking against his stomach, the tip flushed an angry red.

"Don’t worry, sugar," he purrs, gripping your hips, lining himself up. "I’ll make sure ya feel every damn inch."

And then—

Pain.

Pleasure.

Terror.

The bed creaks. The ceiling fan spins. The world outside is silent.

And Boothill fucks you like you’re his.

He ain’t never been good at sharin’. Ain’t never been good at lettin’ go of somethin’ that’s his.

And, sugar—you’ve been his since the day you were born.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 ✦✧✦✧

He isn’t your brother. Not really.

That’s what you tell yourself, have always told yourself, a little mantra inside your head every time you catch him watching you. A comforting phrase, a dividing wall. Older step-brother. Not blood. Not real. Just family on paper, through marriage and circumstance. That distinction should mean nothing.

But it means everything to him.

The first time he met you, he knew. He always knew, from the second you walked into his life with those sharp, tired eyes and that constant aura of detached calculation, of dismissive apathy. You were different. You weren’t swayed by his easy charm, his golden-boy image, his "gentle giant" reputation. You tolerated him, at best. Mocked him, at worst. He hated it.

He loved it.

It made him want to ruin you.

And he would.

Tonight.

✦✧✦✧

Your apartment is quiet.

It’s late. Too late for visitors. And yet, when you unlock your front door, the first thing you hear is the heavy scrape of a chair against the floor.

He’s already inside.

Sitting at your table like he owns the place, long legs sprawled, fingers drumming against the wood. He looks up when you enter, expression neutral, but there’s something in his eyes.

You stop. The keys in your hand tighten. A slow, creeping unease spreads down your spine.

“Caleb.”

His name feels foreign on your tongue. You’ve said it a million times before, but tonight, it’s different. There’s something off about him. The way he watches you, completely still, something restrained simmering just beneath the surface.

He smiles. A slow, lazy thing. “Hey, kid.”

You bristle. “Don’t call me that.”

He laughs. “Still so prickly.” He stands, stretching, broad shoulders rolling beneath his hoodie. He’s always been big—tall, muscular, thick in a way that most men can’t compare—but tonight, it feels different. He feels different.

A predator in your home.

Your heartbeat picks up. You shift on your feet, fingers twitching toward the pepper spray in your pocket. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing the waters. “Haven’t spent much time together lately. Thought we should change that.”

“You could’ve called.”

“I did.” His smile widens. “You ignored me.”

The air in the room turns suffocating. He’s close now. Too close. His presence looms, and you realize, with a sick twist of dread, that he’s cornering you without even touching you.

You swallow. “I’ve been busy.”

“With what?”

“Work. Friends. My own fucking life.” You glare up at him, refusing to show fear, even as your stomach twists itself into knots. “You don’t own my time.”

Something flickers in his eyes.

Then he moves.

Fast. So fast that you barely register it before he has you against the wall, your wrist pinned above your head, his other hand gripping your waist. The pepper spray is ripped from your pocket and clatters to the floor. Your breath stutters.

His grip is firm. Unbreakable. His body is hot against yours, his size overwhelming, the scent of his cologne and something deeper—something uniquely him—filling your lungs.

He leans in. His nose brushes against your temple. “Busy, huh?” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “Too busy for me?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears. “Let me go.”

“No.”

You struggle, but it’s useless. His grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he could. That he will. His breath ghosts over your cheek, slow, measured, savoring. “I’ve been patient,” he murmurs. “So fucking patient.”

You thrash. His hold doesn’t budge.

“You don’t look at me,” he says, voice rough. “Not the way you look at other men. Like I’m some harmless fucking puppy, like I’m just there. Like I’m nothing to you.”

His grip on your waist drags lower, fingers teasing over the curve of your hip. A shudder rips through you, disgust and fear colliding, twisting into something sick and vile.

“You’re sick,” you hiss. “You—”

A gasp tears from your throat as he presses his mouth to your neck. Wet heat. Teeth scraping. A pleased sound rumbles in his chest when you squirm, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, ghosting over your stomach.

“No more ignoring me,” he whispers against your skin. “No more pretending I’m just your fucking brother.”

Your world tilts. The next thing you know, you’re on the floor, the cool wood against your back, his weight pressing you down.

Panic flares. You kick out, thrash, fight with everything you have, but it’s useless. He’s too strong. Too big. His hands pin you, restrain you, force you open beneath him.

Then his mouth is on you.

Your shirt is yanked up, his tongue dragging over your stomach, trailing lower, lower—

“No—!”

His teeth sink into your hip. Sharp. Possessive. A warning. You gasp, hips jerking, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hesitate. His hands part your thighs, grip unyielding, bruising, spreading you wide open for him.

Then his mouth meets your core.

It’s obscene. The way he groans, the way his tongue moves, slow and thorough, as if he’s savoring every fucking inch of you. His grip tightens when you try to twist away, holding you still, forcing you to take it. His tongue dips, presses, curls, and your body betrays you, a traitorous jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine.

You bite your lip, refusing to make a sound.

But he notices.

He always notices.

“Still so stubborn.” His voice is husky, thick with hunger, muffled against your slick. “I can feel you shaking.” A wet, lewd sound follows as he suckles at your clit, groaning into your skin. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

Shame coils in your gut. Your hands fist in his hair, meaning to shove him away, to stop this—but when your fingers tighten, all it does is make him groan.

“Yeah?” he breathes, looking up at you, his lips glistening. “You finally touching me?” He grins. “Bet you don’t even realize what you’re doing.”

Tears burn your eyes. “I hate you.”

“I know,” he murmurs. Then he dives back in.

His tongue fucks into you, slow and purposeful, one thick finger pressing in, then two, stretching you open, fucking you open, ruining you for anyone else.

You gasp. Your back arches, your thighs tremble, but there’s no escaping him. No escaping this.

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue.” His voice is a dark promise. “Then I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll never think of another man again.”

Your breath stutters, and you realize—with horror, with devastation—that he’s telling the truth.

You will never be the same after this.

And he knows it.

Because he’s already won.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲! 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 ✦✧✦✧

There’s blood in your mouth.

Maybe it’s his, maybe it’s yours. The copper sting burns through the alcohol on your tongue, mixing with the bile climbing up your throat.

The air is thick with sweat and spilled liquor, bass thumping through your ribs, but none of it drowns out the sharp slap of his palm against your cheek.

“Bitch, you listenin’ to me?”

Your head snaps sideways, vision momentarily whiting out from the impact, but it barely fazes him. Bakugo's grin splits wide, sharp canines glinting in the dim light, eyes feral as he watches the slow tremble of your lips.

The party roars on behind him. You can feel the weight of bodies pressed into each other, the drunken cheers, the careless indulgence of college students too fucked up to care about anything but the heat of their own bodies.

He doesn’t give a fuck about them.

He only gives a fuck about you.

Bakugo jerks your head back by the roots of your hair, dragging your gaze up to meet his, the burn of his fingers against your scalp anchoring you in place. The red flush across his face isn’t just from the alcohol, not when his pupils are blown wide and his breathing comes in uneven pants. He’s high on this. High on you.

“You really think you’re better than me?” His breath fans across your lips, soaked in whiskey and spite. “Fuckin' stuck-up little bitch—actin' like you don't see me. Actin' like you ain't got my fuckin' eyes on you every shitty day.”

Your stomach lurches as he yanks you forward, the crowd parting around you both like a goddamn spectacle. You try to brace against him, hands weakly shoving at his chest, but he’s immovable. Bakugo only snarls, spinning you around and shoving you against the sticky countertop, pressing the heavy weight of his body against your back.

“Nah,” he breathes, hot and vicious against the shell of your ear. “Not runnin'. Not tonight.”

You barely get the chance to suck in a breath before he kicks your legs apart. One of his arms loops around your middle, dragging you back against his chest while his free hand snakes up your thigh. A violent tremor wracks through you when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down in one swift motion.

“Katsuki—”

He laughs.

“Oh, now you wanna say my name?” His fingers ghost over your exposed slit, barely there, but enough to make you jolt. “Now you wanna fuckin' act like you got somethin' to say?”

He doesn't wait for a response.

Two fingers push inside you without preamble, knuckles deep, dragging out a choked, unwilling sob from your throat. Your hips twitch, trying to pull away, but he presses you down harder against the counter, keeping you trapped between his body and the wood. His fingers curl inside you, rubbing against your walls in deep, slow strokes, his cock twitching against your ass at the way you pulse around him.

“So fuckin' tight,” he growls. “Ain't nobody ever touched this pussy before? Hah?”

You want to scream. You want to thrash and claw and bite.

But the laughter behind you tells you that no one would care.

Bakugo spreads you open with both hands, prying apart your folds to get a better look at the slick beginning to smear between your thighs. He groans, low and hungry, shoving his face against you. The first hot drag of his tongue across your cunt makes your stomach turn, makes your nails scrape against the counter in desperation.

But he doesn’t stop.

He moans like he’s fucking drunk on the taste of you. His tongue laps through your slit, slow at first, savoring it. Then, like a man starved, he shoves his face deeper between your legs, his nose pressed against your clit while his tongue flicks and sucks. You jerk, a stifled cry ripping from your throat when he buries himself into you like a ravenous animal.

Your hands fly back to shove him away, but he only growls against your cunt, nipping at your inner thigh in warning.

“Don’t fuckin' run from me,” he pants, voice ragged. “Ain't gonna let you.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, and your knees nearly buckle. His fingers dig bruises into your thighs, forcing them open wider as he eats you out like a man possessed, like he’s never had anything so fucking good in his mouth before.

It shouldn’t feel like this.

Your body shouldn’t be responding to him, shouldn’t be trembling under his grip, shouldn’t be letting his tongue push so deep inside you it makes your spine arch.

Bakugo laughs when he feels the way you clench, the way you twitch and shake against him, the way your hips push back just a little against his face.

“Yeah,” he breathes, mouth slick with your juices, eyes burning with something wild and unhinged. “Yeah, that’s it, bitch. Fuckin' knew you’d melt for me.”

Your cheeks burn with humiliation.

Because you can feel it too—the slow, creeping pressure building inside you, the traitorous heat pooling between your thighs despite every single cell in your body screaming at you to fight.

His fingers dig into your ass, bruising and possessive, spreading you open for him even wider as he groans against your cunt, the vibrations making your knees give out. He grins against you, eating you out with wet, obscene sounds, completely unbothered by the way your thighs tremble, by the way your hands desperately grip the edge of the counter as he shoves his tongue inside you as deep as it can go.

“Taste so fuckin' sweet,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “This pussy was made for me, hah? Fuckin' perfect little hole…"

Your vision is swimming, the air in your lungs thinning as his tongue drags over your clit, relentless, ruthless, until you can't take it anymore, until your body betrays you completely and your orgasm crashes down without warning.

Your back arches, a strangled sob ripping from your lips as you tremble against him, the shame and pleasure a sickening mix that makes your head spin. Bakugo groans, slurping up every drop of your release, licking and sucking even as your body convulses in his hold, completely and utterly spent.

He doesn't stop.

Even as your thighs twitch, even as your nails carve into the wood, even as tears spill down your cheeks from the overstimulation, he keeps licking, keeps sucking, keeps devouring you like he can’t get enough.

“Fuckin' pussy-drunk off you, baby,” he breathes, voice ruined, eyes dark and desperate as he stares at the mess he's made of you. “Ain't never lettin' this go.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 ✦✧✦✧

You shouldn't have smiled at him.

Atsumu has never been the jealous type—at least, that’s what he’s always told himself. Possessiveness? Disgusting. Clinginess? Even worse. He’s a fuckboy, not a damn sap, and yet here he is, hands clamped so tightly around your wrists that your bones groan in protest, dragging you through the dimly lit hallway of the party like you’re nothing more than a ragdoll.

It’s funny, really.

All it took was a lingering glance at your so-called best friend, and he fucking snapped.

The closet door slams behind you, plunging you into suffocating darkness. The sharp scent of cedar and mothballs invades your nose, but all you can focus on is him—his panting breath, the brutal way he shoves you against the wall, his fingers bruising the delicate skin of your throat.

"Think yer funny, huh?" he hisses, voice thick with something dark, something dangerous. "Batting yer eyes at that piece of shit? Laughin’ at his dumbass jokes? Y’like him or somethin’?"

Your lips part, but the words die before they can escape.

Because Atsumu is angry.

Not the playful irritation you’re used to—the kind that ends with a scoff and an eye-roll. No, this is something else entirely. Something lethal. His fingers tighten around your throat just enough to make your head spin, your pulse hammering like a caged animal against his grip.

"Atsumu," you whisper, voice barely above a breath. "I didn’t—"

"Shut the fuck up."

His knee shoves between your thighs, spreading them wide, pinning you in place. Your heart slams against your ribs as his free hand slips under your skirt, rough fingers skating up the inside of your thigh.

"Y’wanna act like a slut? Then I’ll treat ya like one."

Your stomach twists violently. Panic claws up your throat, but he doesn't give you the chance to fight back. His mouth crashes against yours—hot, desperate, punishing. Teeth sink into your lower lip, tearing at the delicate flesh, the taste of iron blooming across your tongue.

The room is too small, too hot. His scent surrounds you, drowning you in sweat, cologne, and something unmistakably Atsumu. You thrash, nails raking against his biceps, his neck—anywhere you can reach—but he only groans, grinding his thigh against your core like he’s getting off on your struggle.

"That’s it," he rasps, his breath scalding against your cheek. "Fight me. Gimme a reason to break ya."

Your breath stutters when he yanks your panties down, leaving them bunched around your knees. His fingers are on you before you can process what’s happening, rough pads sliding through your folds, spreading you open.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice wrecked. "Always so damn warm. So fuckin’ wet. This for me? Or were ya hopin’ that little shit out there would be the one touchin’ ya?"

Shame burns beneath your skin, hot and humiliating. "Please—"

"Please what?" He sneers. "Y’want me to stop? Then why’s yer pussy beggin’ for me, huh? Drippin’ all over my fuckin’ fingers."

Two fingers sink into you without warning, stretching you wide. A strangled gasp rips from your throat, your body arching instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Atsumu is everywhere—all-consuming, relentless, insatiable.

"Fuck, fuck—look at this pretty little hole, takin’ me so easy," he murmurs, mesmerized. "Like ya were made for me."

His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing tight, punishing circles that send electricity crackling up your spine. The pleasure is too much, too fast, coiling low in your stomach, threatening to snap.

And he knows it.

"Yeah? Y’gonna come already? So damn easy, holy fuck." He laughs, mean and breathless, curling his fingers just right. "C’mon, slut. Make a mess for me. Show me who ya belong to."

Your body betrays you, pleasure crashing over you in violent waves. A choked sob wrenches past your lips, and Atsumu watches, eyes dark with hunger, as you shatter against his hand.

"Holy shit," he whispers, withdrawing his fingers, watching the slick strings between them. "Yer so fuckin’ perfect. Y’don’t even know."

You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s sinking to his knees, shoving your skirt up around your waist. His grip is bruising as he hooks your thighs over his shoulders, pressing you back against the wall.

"Atsumu—"

The first lick steals the air from your lungs.

Hot, wet, obscene—his tongue drags through your folds, collecting every drop of slick you’ve spilled for him. A ragged moan vibrates against your clit as he buries his face in you, licking, sucking, devouring like a man starved.

"Taste so fuckin’ sweet," he slurs against you, drunk on the heat of your cunt. "So fuckin’ perfect, baby. Could eat ya for hours."

You try to squirm, try to shove him away, but he only growls, pressing his tongue flat against you before flicking it over your clit, slow and deliberate.

"Stay fuckin’ still," he snaps. "Let me fuckin’ enjoy this."

Your thighs tremble against his shoulders, nails digging into his scalp as his tongue fucks into you, messy and desperate. Slurping, sucking, swallowing—he doesn’t care how filthy it is, how humiliatingly loud. He wants you to drown in it, wants you to hear how much he fucking needs this.

You feel him rutting against your calf, grinding his cock against your skin like he’s getting off just from tasting you.

"M’so fuckin’ hard," he groans. "Fuck, baby—gonna come just from this. Just from this pretty pussy."

Your head spins. The pleasure is too much, too overwhelming, your body strung so tight it hurts.

"Atsumu, I—"

He hums against your clit, sucking the swollen nub between his lips, and you break.

White-hot pleasure crashes through you, tearing a scream from your throat. Your body locks up, every muscle seizing as you come, and Atsumu moans, drinking it down like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

"That’s it," he breathes, voice wrecked. "Fuckin’ knew ya could gimme one more."

Your legs nearly give out as he pulls back, chin glistening, pupils blown wide. He looks utterly debauched—cheeks flushed, hair a mess, lips wet and swollen.

"Y’ain’t done yet, sweetheart," he murmurs, standing to his full height. His fingers work at his belt, the soft clink of metal making your stomach plummet. "M’not nearly fuckin’ finished with ya."

The sharp sound of a zipper fills the tiny space.

And then he’s pulling his cock free, thick and flushed, dripping with need. He strokes himself once, twice, watching the way your eyes widen, the way your thighs tremble, the way you shrink against the wall as if that’ll save you.

It won’t.

Atsumu smirks, stepping closer, pressing the leaking tip against your slick folds.

"Gonna fuckin’ ruin ya."

The closet door muffles your scream.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅ 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 ✦✧✦✧

You were always a quiet little brat.

Not the loud, obnoxious type. Not the kind that pouted and whined. No, you had your own way of getting under his skin—an infuriating, unreadable defiance that mocked him in silence. It was in the way you held your ground, unwavering, giving him that blank, unimpressed stare no matter how much he towered over you.

And he tolerated it.

Because you were his.

Shouei Barou, king of the field, ruled with dominance. His presence alone forced submission. Opponents cowered, teammates fell in line, and yet, you? You never crumbled.

You, with that little smirk.

That disrespectful little smirk that told him you didn’t take him as seriously as you should.

It drove him insane.

Tonight, you finally pushed too far.

He wasn’t even trying to be threatening. For once, he had been patient, letting you sit on his lap after a match, letting you play with his damp hair. He had let you touch him however you pleased, because for all his pride, for all his control, Barou was addicted to you. Your hands, your warmth, the scent of you—you had ruined him in a way he didn’t understand. So he let you get away with things no one else could.

Then you said it.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He had stilled, jaw locking. You leaned closer, chin on his shoulder, whispering low. “I mean, it makes sense, right? You’re too much of a self-righteous control freak to let anyone touch you.” Fingers trailed down his nape. “Bet you’re scared. All that talk, all that attitude, and you’ve never even had a girl squeeze your cock?” You sighed, deliberately unimpressed. “Tch. Figures.”

You hadn’t expected much of a reaction.

After all, Barou was always restrained with you. A little rough when you got on his nerves, but never violent, never crossing any real lines. He was harsh, cruel at times, but still kind in a way that made you stupid enough to feel safe.

But then, the air shifted.

You felt it before you saw it—that break in patience. A crack splitting the careful lines of his control. His fingers flexed against your thighs.

And then he was moving.

Fast. Too fast for you to process what was happening before he had you pinned to the floor, legs spread wide, breath hot as he loomed over you.

"You think this is a game?"

His voice was so fucking low. That controlled, authoritative tone that made men freeze on the field now sent pure fear rolling down your spine.

“W-Wait—”

Too late. His grip was bruising, hands ripping your clothes aside. A loud tear, fabric shredding under his brute force. Your stomach dropped, realization slamming into you. He’s serious.

Your mind screamed at you to fight, but your body betrayed you, frozen under the sheer weight of him.

“Gotta put you in your place.” His breath came hot against your thigh. “Since you like running that fucking mouth.”

His head dipped, and you barely had time to gasp before his mouth latched onto you.

Oh, fuck—

It was instant, the shock of it, the raw, desperate heat of his tongue. He didn’t even hesitate. No build-up, no hesitation—he dove in, licking into your cunt like a man possessed. Like he had something to prove.

And fuck, he did.

The first swipe sent you reeling, pleasure and horror crashing into each other as his tongue flattened against your slit, dragging upward in one long, hungry stroke.

You yelped, legs kicking, trying to squirm away, but his grip was unrelenting.

"Stay. Fucking. Still."

A sharp slap landed on your thigh, the sting making you jolt. And then he sucked on your clit, a filthy, wet sound filling the room as his mouth devoured you.

It was obscene.

Raw, messy, sloppy.

You had never seen him like this. Never. Barou was always calculated, always composed—but now? Now he was drunk off of you, groaning like he was the one being pleasured, rutting against the floor as he licked and sucked like a starved fucking animal.

"Fuck." His voice was hoarse, barely a rasp. "You're gonna eat those words, brat."

You whimpered, trying to push at his head, but he was fucking relentless, tongue rolling against you with terrifying precision. Your body was betraying you, heat coiling, legs trembling. No. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress it, trying to deny the wetness pooling between your thighs.

Barou noticed.

"Hah. Look at you. So fucking wet for me already?" He chuckled, dark, pleased. "And you had the fucking nerve to mock me?"

His teeth grazed your inner thigh, making you gasp.

“Please, d-don’t—”

A growl, and then he was shoving his tongue inside you.

Your breath hitched, back arching as his tongue fucked into you, slow at first, then fast, messy, each stroke making a wet, lewd sound. His grip tightened, nails digging into your hips as he held you still, kept you at his mercy.

Pussy-drunk. That was the only way to describe him.

Completely lost in it, drowning in the taste of you. His groans vibrated against your cunt, deep and guttural, like he was losing his fucking mind.

"Mine." The word was muffled against your heat, growled into you like a vow. "You fucking hear me?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, choking back a sob. The way he was touching you, devouring you, it was too much. It felt too good, and that made it all the more terrifying.

Barou didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

He kept going, eating you out like it was his last meal, like his life depended on it. Like he was punishing you with pleasure.

His fingers slid between your slick folds, pressing in, stretching you open. The intrusion made you gasp, but your body was so fucked out, so overstimulated, that it barely registered before another wave of pleasure crashed over you.

And Barou felt it.

He knew you were close.

His movements grew rougher, more intense, his lips sealing around your clit, sucking just right—

You shattered.

Your body convulsed, pleasure ripping through you so violently it left you gasping, trembling. Your legs clamped around his head, but he didn’t stop, kept licking and sucking, milking every last aftershock until you were sobbing.

Only then did he pull back, panting, lips shining with your slick.

His gaze burned.

Dark. Hungry. A man completely, utterly ruined.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was shoving his sweats down, revealing his cock—thick, hard, twitching with need.

"Hope you’re ready for the real thing, brat."

Your stomach dropped.

You weren’t ready.

But Barou?

Barou was done playing games.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood. Thank you.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

Character TAG LIST of “HSR Sunday”: @yandere-romanticaa

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

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