Your.. Not Wrong??

Obsessed with his last name - K. Bakugou

cw: pure fluff with bf!katsuki because I need it this morning.

He doesn’t get it. The two of you have been dating for years but you still insist on calling him ‘Bakugou’.

It didn’t bother him at first, the two of you still getting used to the intimacy of each other’s names and figuring out what pet names the two of you prefer. But not you. It’s always been ‘Bakugou.’

The occasional ‘Katsuki’ or ‘Kats’ will slip out in the quiet hours of the morning, when both your voices are still laden with sleep.

It’s only when he’s standing in the kitchen, pouring your cup of coffee in that to-go mug he got you from his agency that he asks. “Why do you always call me by my last name?”

His tone is soft and a little sad, his gaze doesn’t entirely meet yours either, just slowly watching the ribbons of cream mix with the rich dark coffee.

“Is there a problem with me calling you by your last name? You’ve never said anything about it before now…” you say gently, walking around the island counter to stand next to him.

He stands with his hands on the edge, spoon set down against the neatly folded towel so it doesn’t leave stains on the counter top. “No… I just— never got why you sometimes call me a nickname and it never sticks. You always revert to ‘Bakugou’.”

There’s a beat of silence before you wrap your arms around his waist from behind and press your forehead to the space right in between his shoulder blades. “Maybe I like it so much because I hope it’ll be my last name some day.” Your cheeks are warm and he can feel it through his shirt.

He’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you never really talked about marriage but he’s known for ages you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. But hearing you voice that? There’s no way he’d have a problem hearing that again. “And there’s no one else I’d rather have take my last name.”

His hands cup your cheeks as he turns around and presses his lips to yours, happy as he could ever be.

Happy

𝜗𝜚 bakugou katsuki | take it all

❕smut mdni, huge dick katsuki.

there was a distinct size difference between you and your husband bakugou katsuki, yeah, it was pretty obvious and he always liked it. the way his shirts were so long they were past your thighs, the way you shrank under him when he laid on top of you and so much more... but there was something else that mattered more to him than anything else. dude, your husband bakugou katsuki has the biggest cock you've ever seen.

even though you can't take his cock all the way in your mouth, you goddamn love taking as much of it as you can. just the tip? okay, fine, you'll do the best you can. and i'm sure you're not the only one who enjoys it.

your husband bakugou will go crazy while he watching you, you use both hands because his dick doesn't fit in your mouth. every time, he'll think he's never cum this fast before. when he realizes that you're mad because his cock can't fit in your mouth, he'll give you that damn grin and throw his head back. he'll be beside himself with only your wet voice and his quiet growls in the room.

even your two hands aren't enough to hold his cock completely, you can only take half of it with your mouth, this really gets on your nerves as you wonder 'why is it so big'. your husband is so big that you're always too small in this situation.

"take it… all…" he'll say as he grabs your hair and pulls you closer to him. he's always grumpy, and once he gets used to you giving him a blowjob, he'll lose his gentleness in this situation, after all, you're his wife, aren't you? you'll happily try to do as he says while you use both hands and your mouth, you'll try to give him the best blowjob you can, but his cock is really big.

well, make sure your eyes don't burn... good luck!

© itoshhi 2025 {do not copy, translate, steal, modify without permission.}

angst has a special place in my heart

Hii!! May I request an angst to fluff? But if you don't take angst request pls feel free to ignore this!! So Katsuki and fem reader who dated for half a year between almost end of first year then half of their scond year but then Katsuki breaks up with reader cuz she was a 'distraction' and of course left her heart broken. And then on third years, in the middle of their semester, he then realizes he still loves reader and like tries to reconcile with her. Idk what else to add so I'm just leaving the rest to you!! Love your works btw they're so good!!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Still yours .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. angst to fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader

☘︎ . . . requested? yes by anon

⤿ Bakugou broke your heart. He came back. You made him earn it. He did.

1st Year, End of Semester

You and Katsuki Bakugou were never loud about your relationship.

He wasn’t the type to hold hands in public or shout about how much he loved you. But in the quieter moments in between training and studying he’d slip you his hoodie, walk you to your dorm without a word, or rest his forehead against yours after a long day.

It started in the last stretch of your first year, grew steadier into second year. Six months of something real. Something gentle despite him being the most explosive person you knew.

But it ended with a bang.

2nd Year, Halfway Through

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You stood in the training room, the air cold, his words colder.

You blinked. “What?”

Bakugou’s hands were clenched. His jaw was tight.

“You’re a distraction,” he muttered. “I need to focus on becoming the best. I can’t afford to waste time… worrying about you all the time.”

You stepped back like you’d been hit. “So I’m a waste of time now?”

“That’s not what I—” he paused, growling. “I just—this is what’s best.”

For who?

You didn’t cry then. Not in front of him. You just nodded, whispered “Okay,” and walked away. You didn’t see the way his eyes followed you until the door shut behind you.

3rd Year – Mid-Semester

You weren’t the same girl from a year ago.

You smiled less, laughed with your friends more, focused harder on your studies. You’d built walls around your heart high and unbreakable.

Bakugou had noticed.

From across the classroom, during missions, in the dorms. He saw how you no longer looked his way, how your smile didn’t pause for him, how you didn’t flinch when his name came up in conversation.

You’d moved on or at least, that’s what it looked like.

But him?

He was stuck.

Stuck in the memory of you smiling in his hoodie. Of how you cheered him on after training. Of how you looked at him like he was already the best, even before he believed it himself.

He had pushed you away for his dream, only to realize… you were part of it.

One Night After Training

He found you alone by the vending machines. Hair still damp from your shower. Hoodie zipped up to your chin.

He swallowed. “Hey.”

You glanced at him. “Hey.”

God, it was like you didn’t even see him anymore.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. “I’ve been… thinkin’.”

“About?”

“You. Me.” His voice dropped. “Us.”

You froze.

He rubbed the back of his neck, frustration creeping in. “I was a damn idiot. Thought cutting you off would help me focus. But all it did was make everything harder.”

You didn’t speak.

“I miss you,” he whispered. “All the time. Every day.”

Still, silence.

His heart thundered in his chest. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Hell, I wouldn’t if I were you. But… I just needed you to know that I’m sorry.”

Your voice was soft. “You really broke me, Katsuki.”

He flinched. “I know.”

“I thought I wasn’t enough. That I was holding you back.”

He stepped closer. “You were never the thing holdin’ me back. You were the thing keeping me grounded.”

You looked up at him, eyes full of pain he wished he could erase.

“Why now?” you asked.

He exhaled. “Because it took me losing you to realize I don’t want a future where you’re not in it.”

You stood there, heart aching with all the love you’d buried. He wasn’t asking for much. Just a chance. A beginning.

“I’m not saying it’s easy,” you murmured. “But I still… I still love you, Katsuki.”

His breath caught. “Yeah?”

You gave a small nod.

He hesitated, then reached out slowly, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

“Then let me make it right,” he said. “Day by day.”

And this time, you didn’t let go.

Bakugou didn’t win you back with flowers or grand gestures. He showed up every day.

He trained with you, walked you home again, left you little notes before exams. He asked about your day and actually listened. He never interrupted. Never raised his voice at you, not once.

He remembered things you didn’t think he would your favorite drink, the way you hated thunderstorms, the way you liked your rice crispy instead of soft.

He gave you space, but never made you feel alone.

He didn’t rush your heart back to him.

He waited for it.

And slowly, it came back.

Not all at once but gently, like the kind of love you had at the very beginning.

© jxwl4k 2025

i miss his annoying ass

little baby

katsuki bakugou // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

if tides could speak (they'd call you home)

sleeping aid

cover shot (through the heart)

command me

pumpkin spice and everything nice

she's my wife

on my way (to you)

savvy

you wear them well

countdown

mamamatcher

you're the one that i haunt

backup

signal

you are the reason my heart is still beating

and you take me the way i am

organic chemistry

flower crown

safe haven

reinvention

a thousand petals for one unrequited love

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

BIRTHDAY SUIT | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: Bakugo never made a big deal about birthdays—just another day in his book. But you're not letting this one slide. As his partner, you know better than anyone that under that explosive exterior lies a man who deserves to be worshipped. And tonight, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Dressed in nothing but a gift-wrapped surprise, you give him a present no one else ever could—you.

content: smut, shameless smut, established relationship, lingerie sex, birthday sex, reader takes the reins, blowjob, sloppy, cowgirl , orgasm,

Bakugo never cared about birthdays. For once, he'd let you celebrate him.

No grumbles, no sarcastic muttering under his breath about “dumb-ass traditions” or “waste of time.” No disappearing off to train. No flinching when his friends shouted “Happy Birthday, Katsuki!”

He actually stayed. Enjoyed it.

The apartment had been buzzing earlier with close friends, laughter, drinks, and too many snacks. But now, it was just you and him. The glow of warm lights filled the room, soft music playing low from the speaker. The scent of buttercream and spiced candles lingered in the air.

“Sit,” you said, nudging him down onto the couch.

He dropped onto it with a tired, satisfied huff, one arm slung over the backrest as he watched you crouch beside the small stack of gifts left on the coffee table.

“Ya didn’t have to do all this, y’know,” he muttered. “Just havin’ you around is—”

“Shut up,” you smirked, passing him the first box. “You can get sappy after we’re done with presents.”

He rolled his eyes, but the blush on his ears gave him away.

One by one, he opened them. A couple of gag gifts from Kaminari, a surprisingly thoughtful book from Todoroki, custom gloves from Kirishima. A shirt from you he’d side-eyed in a store window a few weeks ago but pretended not to like. He’d mumbled, “Not bad,” when he saw it then—but the way he smiled when he saw it again tonight? That soft, flickering look in his eyes?

Yeah. He remembered.

But the last gift made him still.

He turned the box in his hand like he didn’t quite recognize it, even though you knew he did. You watched his fingers move slower—more careful. He lifted the lid and saw it:

A first edition, limited-run All Might training journal.

Something he’d mentioned in passing once during a midnight walk months ago. Something he said he always wanted but could never find.

He stared at it in silence, thumb brushing over the embossed edges.

“…You remembered that?” he asked, voice suddenly quieter. His eyes lifted to yours.

You smiled gently. “Of course I did.”

Bakugo swallowed hard, cheeks pinking up in a way that had your heart blooming in your chest. “You’re insane,” he muttered. “You know that?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “A little.”

He blinked hard, then cleared his throat.

“Alright, alright—cake. Let’s get this over with before I start feelin’ like a damn Hallmark card.”

You brought over the cake, candles already lit, your face glowing in the soft flicker as you sang the most off-key, dramatic “Happy Birthday” you could manage. He groaned, but he didn’t stop you.

He blew out the candles.

You sliced two pieces, handed him a fork… then stole it right back.

“Say ah.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You really gonna hand feed me right now?”

“wedding reenact,” you said, lifting a bite to his mouth.

He opened it, still scowling—but barely—as you fed him a chunk of cake. He chewed, crimson eyes on you the whole time.

“Good?” you asked.

He gave a slow, appreciative nod. “Yeah. sweet.”

"that so..."

You leaned in, swiped a little frosting from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips looked so soft, gilding your frosted coated thumb onto them, then kissed it off his lips, pressing your own into the softness of his. It started soft.

But when your lips brushed his again—slow, warm, and just a little longer—his hands naturally found your waist, pulling you closer until you were nearly in his lap. He kissed back, gentle but hungry, lips parting to taste more of you.

You murmured between kisses, breath hot against his mouth: “Birthday kiss.”

He blinked slowly, his lips still parted from the kiss, eyes dazed and focused only on you. His hands stayed warm on your waist, thumbs stroking slow, thoughtless circles into your skin through the thin fabric. His gaze trailed over your face—your lips, your flushed cheeks, your eyes so full of mischief and adoration.

“You’re everything,” he murmured, almost like it slipped out without permission.

You kissed the tip of his nose, giggling softly. “Thank you.”

And then?

His grip tightened. Just slightly. And he pulled you into his lap.'

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, voice thick and low, “I’m gonna forget we were takin’ things slow tonight.”

You leaned in, straddling him without hesitation, your thighs hugging his hips as you settled against him. His body welcomed you instantly, his hands sliding up your sides, fingertips dragging the fabric of your top slightly—like he wanted less of it between you.

“I was never planning to go slow,” you whispered, brushing your lips just barely against his jaw. “Not tonight.”

His breath caught—sharp, audible. You felt it in his chest, the way it stuttered under your palms. His reaction was subtle, but every part of him twitched with anticipation: his hands, his legs beneath you, the slight lift of his hips like he was already imagining how this night would end.

“Got one more present for you,” you murmured into his ear. “The real one.”

Bakugo’s brows lifted, suspicious. “Thought that damn journal was the real one.”

You grinned, climbing off his lap for just a moment—enough to walk toward the bedroom with that sway you knew drove him wild.

He watched, chin propped on his hand, eyes darkening the second your fingers dipped beneath the hem of your top as you disappeared down the hall.

“Oi,” he called. “What kinda present needs you to change for it?”

You didn’t answer.

But when you reappeared in the doorway—lingerie clinging to your curves like a second skin, chosen with him in mind—Bakugo sat up so fast he nearly knocked the fork off the coffee table.

Your name left his mouth like a groan.

“Holy shit…”

You were wrapped in delicate black lace, the kind of thing he never thought he’d see outside a magazine, and even then—never on you. Never just for him.

His mind blanked.

No words, no witty comeback. Just the shape of you silhouetted in the soft golden light. The way the sheer material clung to your curves, catching every dip and swell like it had been tailored with him in mind. The way your thighs moved when you walked, slow and sure, like you knew what that sight alone was doing to him.

His mouth had gone dry.

And still, he sat there—frozen on the couch, like his body had been rooted to the spot. Only his eyes moved, dragging over you with almost painful reverence.

Your presence wasn't just seen. It was felt. In the sudden hush of the room. In the way the air itself seemed to shift as you crossed it. There was a softness to it—like watching a flame flicker behind glass. Dangerous, but so goddamn beautiful.

Something in his chest ached.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw you like this—wanting him like this. That wide-eyed, breath-stolen reaction always snuck up on him.

His gaze caught on your collarbones, then drifted lower—hesitating on the swell of your breasts barely veiled by lace, down the soft line of your stomach, until it settled between your legs, where the thin strip of fabric left far too little to the imagination.

The sight knocked the wind out of him.

One of his hands, resting uselessly on his thigh, curled into a fist. The other—he didn’t even realize—had wiped itself discreetly on his jeans, sweat clinging to his palm.

Not from nerves. No. Never that.

Except maybe this time, it was.

Because you were walking toward him now, hips rolling, eyes locked onto his, and he could feel his body respond before his brain had even caught up. His mouth parted. Breath shallowed.

God, the way you moved. Like you were pouring yourself into every step. Like you weren’t just walking to him—you were offering yourself.

It made his pulse stutter.

And when you climbed back into his lap, warm skin settling over the growing heat in his jeans, he couldn’t think. All he could do was feel. Your nails dragging against the nape of his neck in ghost trails feather-light, his body withered under the touch. Your perfume mingling with his senses what scent was that? and why cant he stop sniffing you.

"You smell really good baby...really good" his nose ghosted your neck, hips pulling you closer. Your thighs oh so soft to him, bracket him so warmly.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

He just looked.

Admiration wasn’t something Bakugo handed out easily—not to friends, not to strangers, and definitely not out loud.

But he was looking at you now like you were everything. Like you were a dream made real. Like he didn’t know whether to kiss you, worship you, or fall to his knees for you.

He couldn’t stop drinking you in.

How had he gotten this lucky?

You kissed him again. Slowly, reverently. The kind of kiss that curled toes and short-circuited nerves. You would use a hand to pull him by the shirt, and when you pulled back just enough to murmur, “Happy birthday, Katsuki,” his lashes fluttered low, heat gathering in his face as he let the words sink in.

His breath hitched when your hands found his chest.

Just fingertips at first, dragging over the fabric of his shirt like you were memorizing him all over again. You didn’t rush—just let your palms glide across solid muscle, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as your thumbs brushed the edge of his ribs.

He was already warm under your touch. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss just beneath his jaw.

Then another—lower, slower. Your lips parted against his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses in a trail that dipped down the curve of his neck. His skin twitched under each one, the breath in his lungs turning shallow, rough.

“Knew you’d do something like this,” he murmured, but the strain in his voice made it sound more like a confession than a tease.

You didn’t answer. Just smiled against his skin, your teeth grazing lightly before you sucked. Gently—just enough to make him feel it. And then again, lower. His hands tensed at your waist.

You tilted your head to kiss along the other side of his neck, scattering another series of soft hickies—like you were branding him in lace and affection.

A groan vibrated in his chest.

Your fingers slipped to the hem of his shirt. He didn’t resist. Didn’t even move.

He just watched you. Quiet. Obedient in a way only you got to see.

You peeled his shirt up, inch by inch, revealing the planes of his stomach—warm, lightly flushed, his abs tightening beneath your gaze. You kissed his chest slowly as you exposed it, lips brushing across firm muscle, leaving kisses that lingered just a little too long.

You didn’t break eye contact.

Not once.

Even as you sank further down, mouth worshipping the path beneath his sternum. Even as your nails lightly scratched up his sides, drawing out a low hiss from between his clenched teeth.

His body was buzzing now—caught between restraint and surrender.

And it was beautiful to watch him come undone like this. Strong and scarred and still, somehow, soft for you.

His head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched, one hand gripping your hip while the other fisted into the couch cushion. His thighs flexed beneath you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word half breath, half plea.

You hummed softly, letting your lips hover just above his waistband.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, voice sultry and low, like you were letting him in on a secret. “All over.”

And he was.

Buzzing. Flushed. Waiting.

With his chest bare, his breathing ragged, and his eyes glassy with anticipation—he looked up at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Your lips hovered just above the waistband of his sweats, breath brushing against the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric.

The muscles in his abdomen tensed again.

And still—you didn’t touch him where he wanted you to. Not yet.

Instead, you lifted your gaze, locking eyes with him as your mouth curved in the faintest, knowing smirk. There was power in the way he was watching you. Tension in the way his thighs shifted restlessly beneath yours.

Every inch of him buzzed.

For you.

“Can I take these off?” you asked, voice honey-slow.

Bakugo grunted, half-dazed. “… yeah.”

He sounded so obedient watching every moment like a patient puppy. His beautiful crimson eyes shimmering under the soft glow of the room.

Your fingers dipped under the waistband and dragged it down slow. The fabric caught on the hardened outline of him, and he hissed through his teeth as you freed him from the restraint.

His cock sprang up, flushed and heavy, already leaking at the tip. His hips twitched upward involuntarily, like his body was pleading before his mouth could catch up.

You made a sound of appreciation in the back of your throat—soft, reverent—before leaning in to press another kiss, just above the base. Your tongue flicked out, tasting the warm skin there.

His whole body shuddered.

“Y-you're really gonna take your time with this, huh?” he muttered, voice rough, but low with awe.

You didn’t answer.

You just looked up again, lips parted, pupils blown, hands pressing to his thighs to steady him—before licking a slow, flat stripe from the base to the tip.

Bakugo cursed under his breath, his hand flying to the back of your head on instinct—but it never pushed, never forced. Just tangled in your hair, holding on for dear life.

Your mouth closed around him, warm and wet and unforgiving.

And he melted.

His head tipped back, jaw slack, a ragged moan slipping past his lips. You sucked him down slow—sloppy and deep—letting your tongue trace every sensitive vein, letting your spit drip down over your hand as you worked the base.

He was a mess.

Every time you hollowed your cheeks and sank lower, his thighs tensed. His breath hitched. His hips jerked upward before he caught himself, groaning through clenched teeth.

"Fuck... baby… you—goddamn."

You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, then sank down again, deeper this time.

And he twitched in your mouth, body locking up as you moaned around him.

The sound went straight to his spine—he was pulsing now, barely holding on.

When you pulled off with a wet pop, spit connecting your lips to him in a string, you wiped your mouth slowly with the back of your hand, lips swollen, eyes hooded.

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, climbing back up into his lap. “Can I?”

Bakugo was panting. Eyes glassy. Completely undone.

He swallowed hard, leaning into your chest to whisper "Please.”

You hovered over him, your hair framing your face so bewitchingly.

You lined him up with your entrance, already soaked and pulsing for him. And as you sank down, inch by inch, his eyes rolled back and his hands grabbed your hips like he needed something to anchor him to this earth.

You moaned low as he stretched you open.

“Shit—so full,” you breathed, resting your palms on his chest.

“Look at me,” he rasped, voice trembling. “Wanna see your face.”

You did. And when your eyes met his—when he saw the way you looked at him, like he was the only one you ever wanted—his whole expression softened.

His hands caressed up your waist, slow, reverent.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, voice shaking.

You didn’t move right away.

Not really.

Instead, you hovered just above him, your entrance brushing the slick, sensitive head of his cock—barely letting him in, just enough to tease. Just enough to let him feel the heat of you. Your thighs flexed slightly, hips rolling in slow, agonizing circles that dragged your soaked folds over the tip again and again.

A soft, wet sound filled the space between you. Your juices clung to him, thick and sticky, smearing across his shaft with every grind.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head thunking back against the couch. “You’re—fuckin’ killin’ me.”

You smirked, gaze flicking up to watch him.

And god… the way he looked right now? His chest rising with every ragged breath, his lip bitten raw, his knuckles white where he clutched your hips. Every muscle in his thighs was trembling beneath you. Twitching with the restraint it took not to thrust up and bury himself in you.

You leaned forward, your chest brushing his while your hips stayed in motion—rocking slowly, teasing him with slick, hot friction.

“I thought this was your birthday,” you purred into his ear. “Shouldn’t I be giving you what you want?”

Bakugo grit his teeth, his jaw tight with tension.

“I do want this,” he growled. “You drivin’ me fuckin’ insane like this—teasin’ me—makin’ me feel like I’m gonna explode just from the tip—shit…”

You giggled, soft and wicked, and sat back just enough for him to watch.

One of your hands reached between you, guiding him so the head rested right at your entrance again. You gave a few slow bounces—just the tip sliding in and out, each time making him curse louder.

“S-shit! Baby—fuck—fuck, just let me in—” His voice cracked, his fingers digging into your skin like he was about to lose it.

You finally pressed your hips down a little more, letting him sink in halfway.

His mouth fell open, a deep, guttural moan ripping out of him. His head snapped forward to look at where you were taking him in, flushed and wide-eyed.

And you just smiled at the desperation in his gaze.

“are you feeling good baby,” you whispered, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“God—yes—fuck yes,” he hissed, eyes fluttering as you dropped down another inch. “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. You always do. Always…”

You leaned in again, letting your breasts press to his chest as you kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Then you better hold on,” you whispered, breath hot, “because I’m not gonna stop until you’re a mess for me.”

And with that, you finally sank down fully. All the way. His entire body jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

He let out a strangled sound—somewhere between a moan and a gasp—his head rolling back, hands gripping your ass like he was holding onto sanity itself.

You didn’t move for a moment.

Just stayed there, so full of him, clenching around him until he twitched helplessly inside you. And then—slowly, sinfully—you started to ride.

Your hips began to move again—slow, like honey melting in warm sun, like a wave building over time until it crashes. You circled them, let your walls flutter around him just to feel the way he shuddered beneath you. His eyes opened halfway, heavy-lidded and glazed, following every sensual sway of your body like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And to him—it was.

“Katsuki…” you whispered, your palms gliding up his abdomen. “You’re so deep.”

A sharp breath hissed between his teeth. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, but his hips bucked once—shallow, needy. You kept your pace measured, deliberate, grinding down into him with that same velvet friction that made his head roll back again.

“Shit,” he groaned, the sound low and desperate. His hands were clutching at your waist now, not to guide, but to ground himself. “You’re squeezin’ me so good—I can’t—baby, fuck—please.”

You leaned down slowly, dragging your lips across his collarbone. Then lower—pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest, his stomach. As you moved, your body rolled into his, your rhythm never faltering, hips undulating in a steady, torturous rhythm.

Every time you sank down, he twitched inside you, groaning louder.

“I love the way you sound,” you whispered, licking the salt from his skin. “All desperate and sweet. My perfect birthday boy.”

He looked at you like he’d melt.

One of his hands slipped up your back, tangled into your hair, tugging lightly as you nuzzled his neck. You licked a stripe just beneath his ear, then suckled gently at his skin, your teeth dragging slightly—leaving soft, loving hickeys along his neck and collar.

And every one had him groaning, his cock jerking inside you.

“Gonna mark you up tonight,” you murmured. “So everyone knows who you belong to.”

“I already do,” he rasped, voice nearly broken, “fuckin’ been yours.”

You smiled into his skin and sat back again, palms braced against his chest as you began to bounce now—slow, deep, full bounces that had him clenching his jaw and moaning through his teeth. His abs flexed beneath your hands. His hands gripped your hips tighter.

Your name left his lips like a prayer.

Your hips found a rhythm—delicious, sticky, sinful—and the way he filled you, the way he responded to every little grind, made your legs start to tremble.

He felt it. His hands slid down to cup your ass again, helping support your movements as he watched you from beneath heavy lashes.

“Baby,” he breathed. “You’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me come—just like this?”

You leaned forward again, kissed him deep, then pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Yes. Inside. Don’t hold back. I want you to come just like this.”

He let out a wrecked moan, his hips finally thrusting up to meet yours, matching your rhythm.

Faster now.

Deeper.

You clung to his shoulders, your mouth falling open as the coil inside you tightened and tightened—

And then he gasped—head thrown back, mouth open, cock twitching violently inside you as he spilled, deep and thick and hot, fingers bruising your hips while he cursed your name like a confession.

You didn’t stop.

Not even then.

Still slow. Still steady. Still riding out every aftershock as he moaned beneath you, overstimulated and undone.

His eyes fluttered open, glassy and soft as they met yours. His hair stuck to his forehead. His chest heaved. His hands slid up your spine, arms curling around you as he held you close.

Your chest heaved against his, his heart pounding against your ribcage like a war drum. He was still buried deep, twitching, oversensitive—but you didn’t move. You just cradled his face, tilted it up so he had no choice but to look at you.

“Listen to you,” you whispered, voice sultry and sweet as sin. “Mouth full of curses… all because I couldn’t help creamin’ all over that fat cock.”

Bakugo groaned through clenched teeth, face flushed and jaw tight like he was holding onto the last thread of sanity.

“You heard it, didn’t you?” you murmured, grinding just enough to make him jolt, to let another wet, obscene squelch fill the space between you. “God, the noise we made—bet our neighbors think I was drowning in it.”

He groaned louder, head falling back against the couch.

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and lingering, then whispered, “Soaked you, Katsuki. You feel how messy I made you? Look at your lap—look at what you did to me.”

He peeked down—eyes glassy—and let out another hoarse, broken curse when he saw the slick still glistening between your thighs, dripping slowly down both of you.

You rocked your hips again, so delicately, and he twitched inside you, helpless. His whole body shivered with a groan, his head collapsing on your shoulder "fuck enough"

You grinned. “You liked it when I sat there and shook my ass on it, didn’t you? Teasin’ you right on the tip ‘til you were cussin’ like you were about to lose your damn mind, yeah?” you grind.

“You’re—fuckin’ evil,” he gasped, fingers twitching against your waist.

You kissed his jawline this time, biting lightly just below his ear. His hands gripped you tighter again, like he was about to flip the script—but he was still spent, still weak from how you dropped your ass on him, He just held you there instead, breathing ragged, letting you purr filth against his skin.

“Hot Sand, Hotter Boyfriend – : Busted”

Setting: Bakugo’s dorm, late at night—door… not locked. Oops.

You didn’t mean for it to happen. Not like this.

But after a long day, some teasing kisses, and Bakugo pulling you into his room with that look in his eye—yeah, things escalated fast.

Clothes hit the floor. Your back hit the bed. His mouth hit your skin like he was starved.

He had you pinned under him now, hands holding your thighs apart as he moved between them, every deep, slow thrust drawing the kind of moans you couldn’t bite back. Sweat slicked your skin, your nails raked down his back, and his mouth was at your ear, whispering filth.

“You feel that?” he growled. “How fuckin’ deep I am inside you?”

You whimpered, gasping his name.

Then—click.

Neither of you heard the door open at first.

But you definitely heard the screams.

“WHAT THE—”

“CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT!!”

Bakugo’s head whipped around just in time to see Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mina standing in the doorway like deer in headlights, jaws on the floor.

You shrieked and grabbed the nearest blanket, yanking it over your chest while Bakugo shoved himself in front of you, completely naked and fuming.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

Kaminari tried to cover his eyes and still managed to trip backwards out of the doorway. “I didn’t see anything—I SWEAR—except everything—I’M SORRY—”

Mina was frozen, wide-eyed. “Oh my god. I saw Bakugo’s ass. It’s sculpted.”

Kirishima yelped and slammed the door shut, voice cracking. “WHY wasn’t it locked?! WHY?!”

You were hiding your face behind Bakugo’s back, skin burning with embarrassment.

“We are never surviving this,” you whispered.

Bakugo grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m gonna murder all of them.”

“You left the door unlocked!”

“You distracted me!”

The hallway outside erupted in chaos—screaming, laughing, someone (probably Sero) shouting “They were going at it like R-rated rabbits!” and Uraraka crying, “I can’t believe I SAW that!”

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself and groaned. “Do you think it’s too late to fake our deaths?”

Bakugo looked back at you, then down at himself, and sighed. “Guess they know I’m good at my job.”

You smacked his arm. “Not. Helping.”

thinking abt katsuki who gets mad when u put a pillow on ur lap when he lays down on it 💔💔 AND THIS IS FOR THE CHUBBY GIRLS W THICK THIGHS!!! urgh katsuki would so love a pluz size girl he would be all over her

katsuki was pouting. actually, no—he was sulking. that'd probably because he was in hell. not the kind with fire and demons, no, this was worse.

you had barely sat down on the couch before he sprawled out dramatically, resting his head in your lap like he always did.

it was his favorite place to be, right on top of you, wrapped up in your warmth, your scent, your presence.

but today, you did the unthinkable.

because right in front of him, you had the audacity, the sheer disrespect, to place a pillow on your lap. his lap. the lap that he was supposed to lay on, unfiltered, unobstructed, completely consuming you like he deserved.

“what the fuck is this?” he grumbled, glaring at the offensive object like it personally insulted his entire bloodline.

“it’s a pillow, katsuki,” you replied, suppressing a smile.

“yeah? no shit, why is it here?” his voice was all sorts of offended, like you had personally wronged him in the worst way possible. “i don’t wanna lay on some dumb pillow—i wanna lay on you.”

you rolled your eyes. “maybe i don’t want your heavy-ass head on my legs all the time.”

“oh, please,” he scoffed, shifting so he could grab at your thighs. his fingers squeezed your flesh, his grip firm but greedy. “these are mine. they’re meant for me. not a goddamn pillow.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh while his red eyes flicked between you and the pillow like he was debating setting it on fire. “katsuki—”

“no.” he glared at the pillow like it was his sworn enemy. “you’re warm. you’re soft. you’re perfect. and you’re putting this thing between us?”

he sounded actually hurt, as if the pillow was personally getting in the way of his love for you. “why would you do that to me?”

you blinked at him. “are you really getting this worked up over a pillow?”

“yes.” he said it without shame, without hesitation. “now move it.”

you raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. “and what do i get if i do?”

he smirked, shifting so his hand trailed up your thigh, squeezing with purpose. “oh, baby, you know what you’ll get.”

you sighed dramatically, pretending to be reluctant as you removed the pillow.

the instant it was gone, katsuki squished his face into your thighs with a satisfied groan, wrapping his arms around your waist like he was afraid you’d take it away again.

“never pull that shit again,” he mumbled, nuzzling into you. “i got the best damn thighs in the world, and you wanna cover ‘em up with some dumbass pillow? over my dead body."

he sighed deeply, like he had just endured the greatest hardship known to man. his face was completely buried in your thighs, as if he could merge with them if he tried hard enough.

"see?" he murmured, voice slightly muffled against your thigh. "this is how it's supposed to be. no stupid pillow. just you."

you rolled your eyes, but the fond smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. "you’re such a drama queen."

"yeah, and you're my throne, so shut up and let me enjoy it," he shot back, already closing his eyes like he planned to stay there forever.

you huffed a laugh as you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. his grip on you tightened, a pleased hum vibrating against your skin as he melted into your touch.

for someone so explosive, so rough around the edges, he sure acted like a needy housecat when it came to you.

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

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ anon ilysm for requesting this, i really do. i'm probably writing the breeding kink next after this, considering it a 4k special since we're going so fast😭 lmk if you wanna be tagged and i hope you guys enjoy💗💗