The More You’re Looking The More He Is Naked

lmao okay... filipina! gf having a petty shouting match with bf! katsuki and cussing each other out in each other's languages.

the argument started over something stupid—so stupid you couldn't even remember how it began. but now? now, you were pissed.

"hoy, ikaw! akala mo porket pogi ka kaya mo kong bastusin?! (hey, you! do you think that just because you're hot that means you can insult me?!)" you snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest.

katsuki, never one to back down, fired right back in japanese. "kimi wa boku o okora seru nda yo, wakarudaro? itsumo sono kawaii kao de ki o magirawasu nda! (you piss me off, you know that? always distracting me with that pretty fucking face!)"

you weren’t even sure if he fully understood what you were saying, and you definitely weren’t catching all his rapid-fire japanese insults, but that didn’t stop either of you from cussing (possibly flirting) each other out in your own languages.

"para kang tangang sakit sa ulo na may abs! kung hindi ka lang gwapo, sinuntok na sana kita! (youre like a stupid headache with abs! if you weren’t so hot, i’d have punched you by now!)"

"ore wa hontōni mendōna sonzaida! demo... kuso, ore wa boku ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo mendōna sonzaida! (you’re such a pain in my ass! but... fuck, you’re the prettiest pain in the ass i’ve ever had!)"

neither of you were backing down. your voices clashed like thunder, both of you stubborn as hell, and honestly? if anyone walked in, they’d think you hated each other.

"oi.-kun ga utsukushīkara to itte, kimi ga itte iru koto o watashi ga rikai dekiru wakede wa nai yo.' (hey. just because youre beautiful, it doesn't mean i understand a fucking word youre saying.)" his jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

"ulol! (idiot!)" you shot back, arms flailing in frustration. "hindi kita maintindihan pero alam kong gago ka! pogi o hindi! (i don't understand you but i know you're an ass! handsome or not!)"

katsuki scoffed, stepping in closer, his voice dropping into something lower, more dangerous. "kuso, `chikatte iukedo, kimi ga nani o itte mo mechakucha shitsureina ndaroukedo, demo, kimi ga boku ni donatte iru toki no kuchibiru wa ī kanjida yo.' (fuck, i swear, whatever the fuck you’re saying is probably rude as hell, but damn, your lips look good when you’re yelling at me.)"

oh, hell no. (whatever the hell that meant.)

"ay, gago, ano sinabi mo?! pakyu! bahala ka dyan! maghanap ka ng ibang aawayin mo! ayoko na sa'yo—! (oh, you asshole, what did you say?! fuck you! suit yourself! find someone else to fight with! i don't want you anymore—!)"

before you could finish, his hands were on you—hot, firm, relentless, gripping your waist and yanking you forward.

katsuki grabbed you, his lips slamming onto yours with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs. you barely had time to react before your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just as fiercely.

the kiss was all heat, teeth, and frustration—his tongue sliding against yours in a battle neither of you wanted to lose. the argument was already forgotten, who the hell cared what you were fighting about when this was so much better?

you tugged at his shirt, fisting the fabric, pouring all your irritation and want into the way your lips moved against his, biting on his bottom lip. he groaned, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling, tilting your head just the way he wanted.

you gasped into his mouth, and he used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue pressing against yours like he was still trying to win.

it was messy. angry. hot.

his hands roamed, gripping, kneading, staking his claim as if trying to prove his point without words. your back hit the nearest surface—maybe the wall, maybe the counter, you didn’t care—and katsuki pressed into you, lips never leaving yours. his breath was ragged, matching yours, and when you nipped at his bottom lip, he growled, gripping your thigh and hoisting you up.

"still mad?" he murmured against your mouth, voice low and rough as you wrapped your legs around him.

you tugged at his hair, making him hiss. “oh, now you wanna use your mouth for something other than yelling at me?”

he scoffed, fingers digging into your waist. “tch. big talk for someone who was just moaning in two languages.”

you scoffed, shoving at his chest (not that it did anything, because he was built like a damn wall). “excuse me?”

he grinned, lips brushing against yours. “nah, you’re not excused.”

and then he used his mouth the other way he knew how—by kissing you stupid.

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

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ used google translate for katsuki unfortunately🤕 lmk if any of the translations are wrong, and i hope you guys enjoyed!! inspired by @ch3rryjampi3's comment in my recent filo fic💜💜

sweetnerd

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy been waiting to post this one for ya (based on this post of his)

summary - daisuke -desperate for some release after months of passionless jerking- begs to eat you out one night.

1 k words / 18+! mdni

Recently, the lock on medical had been snapped off. Thankfully, you knew the culprit to be Swansea after a belligerent search for painkillers. And unfortunately, you were responsible for watching over the numerous drugs each night.

Well, you claim it’s a misfortune but really you placed the burden upon yourself. Anya insisted that she would sit with you -- seemed borderline inconsolable at the idea of you being there alone. Then she told you the code to unlock the ship’s gun.

You weren’t sure why a nurse and her assistant had access to the gun when even Captain Curly didn’t, but you also weren’t getting paid enough to ask. Besides, you’ve never had a reason to use it so why concern yourself?

As if sensing all such serenity, the Tulpar bangs outside. Then Daisuke is clambering inside, hands on the doorframe and cheeks flush. His knees are pressed together, his whole body bent like some cheap hanger. Hair tousled, strands upright in odd angles -almost electric in nature. If not for the utter strangling silence behind him and his heavy breathing, you might’ve thought the rest of the ship was on fire.

“Dai… suke..?” you sit up groggily, scrubbing exhaustion from your eye, “The hell’s wrong with you? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you?” he shoots, abandoning the argument a second later in favor of quietly humming, “I wanted to ask you…”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm, ugh… It was easier in my head… earlier…” he mumbles, hand drifting down toward his pelvis. He scrunches the crotch of his sleep pants, a lofty sigh escaping at the squeeze, “Can you- I’m just, you get it? You’ve gotta,” he clenches his eyes, seemingly shaking away the humiliation that very instant and looking at you with the biggest, wettest plead you’ve ever seen, “Can you please sit on my face while I jerk off please? Please?”

The pinched look on your face does not scream disgust, which only relieves him slightly -- he hadn’t really considered what he’d do if you reported his question to Captain Curly. Head too hot with want to forethink something as trivial as a sexual harassment lawsuit.

“Why…?” you lean back, hesitant though not appalled.

“I need to get off, like crazy,” he stumbles forward, slow enough for you to roughly shove him back if you want to, “All I got is an old mag, and it’s junk!” you can hear the delirium thrumming through him the longer you keep him waiting, “You’re so hot, I just wanna eat you out… You don’t even have to do anything, just ride my face! I’ll be good, I promise. We can stop whenever, too, I don’t need to finish,” he swallows harshly before whispering something you’re not totally sure you were meant to hear, “Just the memory could make me cum anyway.”

“Uhm…”

“I’ll give you some of my sweetener stash!”

“I don’t want that, Daisuke…”

“Then forget you heard it!” his dark eyes scramble over your body, “What else can I give you?”

Your own gaze flips over his shoulder, out the still open medical door and down the hall. Empty. Quiet. You snag him by the loose collar of his spare Pony Express shirt, sunshine fabric pillowing between your finger, wrangling him into the bay.

“Just be quiet,” you hiss, “The lock’s busted.”

Daisuke’s rosy lips drawl upward, loose and loopy and disbelieving, “You’re serious?”

“Aren’t you?”

He nods hastily, jumping back onto one of the care beds before flattening across it -- pleading silently up at you with wet puppy eyes while scrubbing sweaty palms down his thighs. Crinkling the soft material until it’s ricketing down his knees; watching hawklike as you slowly strip. Then you crawl atop of him, he clutches you by the hips and blows out a wildly uneven breath.

Barely able to find the strength to blink -lest he be cursed to cut the sight of your bare skin from his eyes- Daisuke only just scrounges the wherewithal to assist you into kneeling over his scorched face.

Exhaling between your thighs, Daisuke winds one hand around your thigh -blunt nails digging into the fat- while wrapping his cock with the other.

Craning his neck, he approaches eating you out the exact way you assumed he would: eagerly and without forethought. Absent of technique, but so full of hunger; his tongue parting and swirling wherever he pleases in that moment. As rhythmless as he is, he’s overtly sloppy -- wet clicks livening the silent room.

Billows of loose breath echoing. You sigh as he whimpers into you. Your weight jostling over his face as he bucks wildly into his tight fist -the resulting gasp only makes him thrust up harder.

“Ah, Daisuke,” pure instinct encourages you to reach down and wrangle his hair, keeping him still for you to grind down and fuck his face. Swirling your hips for that wet friction and Daisuke puts up no fight: only moaning louder into you. Vibrations making you shudder and weep again, “Ah- Daisuke!”

He croons beneath the praise, thumbing the soaking head of his cock while tongue-fucking you open. Desperately stretching his neck to nuzzle deeper into you with his own mewls leakier than a broken faucet. The messy sound of his clenched fist rapidly working his cock grows louder -- you glance over your shoulder to find him shiny with precum. Hand a mere blur over his thick erection. Ruby head peeking at you with every thrust until pearly ropes are painting his knuckles -- some more ambitious shots flying onto your back.

You’d somewhat expected him to slide back like some content, melty goop.

Daisuke surprises you when he smears cum over you whole before using it as lube to slide in, nearing knuckle deep. He moans in time with you as if he can feel it -or maybe just because feeling you clench around him is that good.

“God,” he whimpers beneath you, fingers curling inside you, “I could die down here…”

It might’ve been alarming, if he hadn’t said it so dreamily.

Maybe you’ll let him go down on you more often, if he’s always going to be so eager.

phil’s first s’more

(x)

Maw cleanser or something

the thought of having somebody be willing to change is so 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Bakugou works. A lot.

It was, admittedly, something you forced yourself to look past. Bakugou Katsuki warned you from the beginning that his work was first. It always would be, his dreams and goals, that was who he was.

“Take it or leave it,” he’d told you once, many years ago. “This is what I do.”

And back then, a fool completely head over heels for Katsuki, you’d take it. That was your life, too- texts that went unanswered for days, random updates about his day, calling maybe twice a week to see how you were, and you were fine to sacrifice that part of your sanity all those years ago.

But now, Kirishima posts the random flowers he got his partner on any random Wednesday. Midoriya’s hand clasped under the left hand of his fiancée’s on his timeline. Even Kaminari, who posts tangled legs of his person before he gets up to start the day. It makes you feel sick.

All you want, all you crave, all you’d sell for, is for flowers on any day. A wedding ring that would mean something. Tangled legs in the morning that beg and plead to stay in the warmth of the sheets.

But Katsuki has never been good at giving you that; he’s not a Prince Charming and his life is not a fairytale, you are not his number one priority and it fucking destroys you on the inside.

For years, you try to let it go, to no damn avail. It just hurts too much to think about for too long, knowing that nothings to change or give, and as long as your heart will love him, you’ll be right there waiting, and knowing not whether that love and excitement will always be returned.

But tonight, your dinner sits cold. One place setting untouched, unused and unloved, with your head resting on your hand as the rest of dinner is untouched. The steam stopped flowing from the plates hours ago, and you find yourself still sitting at the table. Your elbows grow sore from perching your chin in your palm.

Your lip quivers as you move to hang your head in sadness, hopelessness, until a knock rouses you from your wallowing. You wipe your eyes and make your way to the locked door, and smile at the guest on the otherside.

"Shoto," you sigh. "Here for your key?"

"Yes," he says simply, nodding his head in appreciation. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking care of the cats. It truly means a lot."

You raise your hand in an attempt to show nonchalance, "it's no big deal at all. I know how busy you get, it's the least I can do for such a good neighbor."

He chuckles, and you forgot how good the sound felt falling from someone else's lips. It feels like it's been ages since you've heard it. He nods his head again, "well, thank you again," he turns on his heel to start walking away.

"Shoto," you say. He stops in his tracks and turns to look at you. You fiddle with the door handle, "could I interest you in some cold dinner? I cooked for Katsuki, but he's not here and leftovers never get eaten in this house, and... I... don't mind reheating some for you."

A glimmer of sympathy crosses his eyes, offering a hum, "I would certainly appreciate the warm meal. Thank you."

It's not the guest you'd hoped, but you've had dinner with worse people. Todoroki's been in your life for longer than you care to remember, what's one more dinner shared together?

It's not like Katsuki is here to say otherwise.

Over a lukewarm, slightly-rubberized-from-microwaving dinner, Todoroki listens to you, holding onto every word as he always does when you speak. It feels nice to be heard again, to not be forced to talk to the walls of your home.

You're not sure how long it's been before the front door opens again, and you feel yourself tense up at the heavy boots crossing the threshold, a snarly "I'm home" ringing in the air.

"Hey," you call back. "Shoto and I were wrapping up dinner, I saved-"

"The fuck's he doing here?" He snarls, and Todoroki merely blinks, bored.

"Is it not friendly to drop in for some company?" He asks, and if you knew Todoroki any less, you'd never know it was his way of riling Katsuki up.

And it hasn't failed once.

Katsuki balls his fist, "not when I'm not fucking home, you freak!"

"Katsuki, enough," you snarl back. Two heads whip towards you, one set of eyes filled with fury, the other with surprise. “Maybe you should’ve been here when Shoto stopped by. This weird complex you’re in wouldn’t be a damn issue.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His words are a growl deep behind a wall of teeth, but you’re so tired it doesn’t deter you. You clench your hands and finally curl them into fists. “You got something to say to me?”

You grit your teeth, “Shoto's been here for how long? You haven’t. You wanted him out so bad? You should’ve fucking been here. You weren’t. So bite me.” You quickly spin on your heel as stinging tears burn your waterline, leaving the two heroes alone in the living room.

Katsuki barks your name, “we’re not done here!”

“I am.”

You purposely slam the door, knowing it’s one of his biggest pet peeves. He deserves it, and a lot more. Katsuki yells a bit more, too much of a ferocious tone to fully grasp what he’s saying, and it’s matched with Todoroki’s calm demeanor. He kicks Todoroki out, which you hear, and you brace yourself as he stomps into the bedroom, ready for the explosion that's hurdling straight towards you.

But it never comes.

Instead, you watch the bathroom door open and close, and then a few moments later, you hear the shower turn on. Confusion twists through your mind as you try to piece together just exactly what happened, but ultimately drawing only blanks. You sigh and strip into your pajamas, deciding to call it a night before he comes in and stirs the pot more.

He can do it tomorrow.

Though your heart does break a little when you wake up to find the bed next to you cold and made; he must’ve crashed on the couch last night, too enveloped with his fury to come and make amends.

That's fine. You're patient.

Sunday is tense, a day Katsuki usually reserves off to spend time at home, he's made the executive decision to go into work, leaving you to mourn the love lost in the day, love you usually receive in the melting day. Todoroki comes by again, this time to check in on you after the fight he'd witnessed the day before. And to your disappointment, Katsuki arrives home at the same time, briskly brushing past you and your friend.

Monday comes and goes, once again the bed next to you remains cold in wordless grudge. You're not going to apologize, you have no need to.

Even if this is the end of your relationship.

What's there to work through? After forcing you into a life where affection is miniscule and tokes of appreciation are seen as nothing more than an option, perhaps its for the best to let the embers die, and-

No.

You don't want it to be the end. Not like this. Not now. Not after years of giving Bakugou Katsuki your entire life, promising to stand by him through thick and thin.

You'll bite your tongue until it hurts. Until he decides what he wants to do. You're loyal as a dog to him, after all. The ball remains in his court, always.

By Tuesday, Katsuki comes in, and he doesn’t even look at you. He washes his hands before shambling off to the showers to mimic some form of warmth you’d once provided him. When you hear the shower head turn on, you curl deeper into your corner of the couch, lowering your eyes to try and fight back the tears that sting at your waterline.

Maybe he is done. Maybe this is it. He’s sick of waiting for you, sick of your shit and tired of the exhaust you put on his mentality. Work comes first, and if there was ever a time to enforce it, it would be now.

With a soft whimper to mask your cries, you click off the tv and creep your way up the stairs. It’s dark in your room, the pictures of you and Katsuki invisible until you flick on the light- even then, they’re not as pristine as they had looked just days ago.

The bed is once again cold and feels far too big as you curl up on your side, knowing if you roll onto his, you’ll be met with a hand waking you up and pushing you away.

You’re not in the mood for that tonight.

Not when for months at a time, he’s been shoving you away, be it with mean words or snaps of venom or just actually moving you from his space, you can’t possibly conjure the mood in your little pity party to care for him to disregard you in such brutal ways.

But fuck, god, no matter how much you want to believe it, that you can just as easily fall asleep without him next to you, snores punching through the air and the occasional lull of his head next to yours, you can't, and you hate how bitter and horrible a life without Bakugou Katsuki sounds.

You hate how your life revolves around him, and you wish it didn't, you hate how empty your soul would be without his name coming up on your phone, you hate that you fell so hard for Bakugou Katsuki that a life without him doesn't exist.

You'll never leave him. It makes you feel sick.

What you wouldn't sell, what you wouldn't give, to have Bakugou Katsuki love you just as much as you do, him.

But, as if manifested, no more than an hour later, he does come in. Your name falling from his lips sounds timid, like he's unsure if he should be saying it. "Listen," he snips, lip quivering as he sinks his teeth into the fat, eyes swollen from tears and looking so defeated you're almost convinced it’s not even the Bakugou Katsuki you fell in love with all those years ago.

You slowly sit up, curling up by the pillows as he stands in the doorway, disheveled and frustrated and extremely, clearly, hurt.

“You win,” he whimpers, hands cupped over his mouth to mimic a paper bag, regulating his breathing. They suddenly drop to the side, “you-you-you win. I can’t do this anymore, I won’t, I fucking give, you win-“

“Win what?” You ask, but it’s clear in your demeanor that you know exactly what he’s confessing to, even as you’re dazed from sleep.

You just want him to say it.

Katsuki uses his sleeve to roughly rub the tears out of his eyes, “just fucking stop, okay?” He growls, and it sends a shiver through you as it passes his teeth. “You fucking win, okay? I-I-I was wrong, I never should’ve said shit about you and Todoroki’s friendship, or said shit-fuck about you spending time with him when I should’ve been here.” He lets one, saliva filled sob sneak past his lips, it’s like a dam of words break loose. “But fuck, please just fucking look at me again, I’m sorry, I just hate the idea that you’ll fall for him while trying to get back at me, so please just love me again-“

At that, you jump up to your feet and quickly scurry over to him, brows furrowed in concern but lip pouting out as you toss your arms around him, his knees buckling under your touch and arms limply hanging. “-because I sure wouldn’t blame you if you did leave me for him after how I’ve been treating you.”

“Katsuki,” you soothe, a hand reaching up to scratch at his scalp. “That’s not going to happen. That’s not what this was to show you.” You plant kisses along his jawline, hating the feeling of it quivering under your affection. “This wasn’t to show you that my feelings for Shoto become more romantic when you’re not here; it was to show you what you were missing when you could’ve been here.” He slouches further at your words, and you wonder if they were the correct ones to say.

“Katsuki,” you say again, firmly, gathering his cheeks in your hands. They’re hot, fuck they’re so warm from his distress, and and you feel what little coolness your palms held disappear into the swells. “You’re not going to lose me to Shoto. I would never leave you for Shoto- I’d never leave you for anyone.” He blinks unconvinced at you, and one of his tears roll over your fingers. “But you will miss dinners. You will miss movies. You will miss time with me if you don’t stop only thinking of yourself in this relationship. What you’re doing now clearly isn’t meshing with what I need. What we need from each other. I can only be so flexible before I wonder when we’ll… when I’ll stop bothering.”

“I don’t want to stop,” he mumbles, trying to chase even more coolness in your palms. “I just… I want to be the best-“

“And you are, but you can’t betray yourself by overworking yourself-“

“No,” he bites through his teeth. “The best for you. But… Todoroki can give you the best shit effortlessly, I fucking see it. And…” he winces as he stands up, as if disgusted to even say what dares to slip past his tongue. “And he can give you the life you want, the life you deserve; I just cant fucking watch it anymore.”

“Shhh,” you soothe, pulling his reluctant form into a hug. He tenses, but eventually rests his head in the crook of your neck, trembling hands settling on your waist gently, as if scared you’d break under the touch. Your nails move up to his scalp, scratching lovingly.

“Shoto is a mild-mannered, quiet spoken person who thinks logically about everything he says and does,” You whisper, planting a soft kiss to his pounding temple.

“I love that about him, as a friend- but you, Katsuki, are exciting. And you make loving you just as addictive.”

He does, finally, perk up at that, and you smile against his skin. “Say more stuff like that,” he mumbles, sniffling, but you tighten your arms around him while you giggle softly at the idea of having your old Bakugo back.

“Shoto and I go to the market together, we’re in and out in twenty minutes tops- but if that’s what I wanted, I’d go alone,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, and you grin, “I like bickering with you in the dairy aisle about flavors of milk to get.”

“If I wanted chocolate milk, I’d get the syrup,” he defends, as if you’re standing in the aisle and not picking up the pieces of your relationship in your bedroom.

“And then when the milk is all gone, I have you bitching at me about the syrup getting wasted,” you snort. “It’s just easier if I get-“

“I love you,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning out over your neck. You pause and smile, relishing in the scent of his post-shower aroma.

“I love you,” you say back, kissing whatever your lips can reach against his head. “Once a week, Katsuki. I want to go to bed with you at least once a week, and not be left away absolutely panicked over where the hell you may have gone. I’d like to have dinner with you at some point in the week. I hate missing you, I always have, even when we were teens.” When he finally nods softly, you pull back with your hands cupping his cheeks, the swollen apples looking foreign on your usually solid man. You smirk and use your thumb to wipe his tears, “you’ve always been an ugly crier.”

He chokes softly on a laugh, “why do you think I never do it?” He licks his dry lips before looking you up and down, “leave that shit to you.”

“It is nice seeing you emotional over me for once.”

“Yeah?” He rasps. Then, he tugs you in for a kiss, one that sears and tears at your teeth and tongue, one that feels exhilarating and exhausting all at once, one that encapsulates Katsuki in one swift, dominating move.

It’s jagged and rough, but familiar enough to have you swooning in his bulky, caring arms.

“You got me in love with you, or some shit.”

(x)

'Open When' Letters From Bakugo

Open when you're insecure

Tch, what the hell are you doubting yourself for? Seriously, it pisses me off when you act like you’re not good enough. You think I’d stick around if you were some weak, useless idiot? Get a grip.

You’re stronger than you think. Smarter, too. You’ve got this fire in you that I see even when you don’t. And yeah, I know I’m not great at saying this crap, but I mean it. You’re not allowed to tear yourself down, got it?

You’re with me for a reason. I don’t waste my time on people who don’t matter, and you sure as hell matter to me. So stop letting those stupid doubts creep in and take over. You’re better than that.

-Katsuki

P.S. If I hear you putting yourself down again, I’ll kick your ass—out of love, obviously.

(x)

imagine phil and safiya making a video together,,, imagine tHE POWER OF THEIR MINDS COMING TOGETHER,, imaging the mISCHIEFS,,