Osamu Dazai

ᯓ TWT P ༘ RN LINKS! ft: blue lock, jujutsu kaisen, my hero academia, attack on titan, tokyo revengers.

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𝜗𝜚 he likes to eat his girl while fingering her, a hungry boy…

𝜗𝜚 he has no idea how big he is

𝜗𝜚 all he wants is to give pleasure to his lover, so sweet

𝜗𝜚 he loves your titties <3

𝜗𝜚 he will let you use him

NAGI seishiro, reo mikage, bachira meguru, CHOSO kamo, yuji itadori, yuta okkotsu, inumaki toge, SHOTO todoroki, tamaki amajiki, midoriya izuku, ARMIN arlert, connie springer, CHIFUYU matsuno, kazutora hanemiya, takemichi hanagaki + your favs.

𝜗𝜚 you and your damn skirts will one day hurt your ability to walk.

𝜗𝜚 he had a bad day, so…

𝜗𝜚 “i’ll just take care of you, okay?”

𝜗𝜚 he loves the way your hips collide with his cock

𝜗𝜚 sometimes he just focuses on you and your adorable lips

ISAGI yoichi, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, SUGURU geto, megumi fushiguro, nanami kento, takuma ino, AIZAWA shouta, denki kaminari, kirishima eijiro, LEVI ackerman, reiner braun, porco galliard, MANJIRO sano, shinichiro sano, mitsuya takashi + your favs.

𝜗𝜚 he promised to be more gentle this time, lying bastard!

𝜗𝜚 he can make you cum in seconds <3

𝜗𝜚 will you be a “good girl” ?

𝜗𝜚 “are you going to be a shy girl and hide your little noises from me, hmm?”

𝜗𝜚 he is a total eater, trust me.

SAE itoshi, rin itoshi, shido ryusei, eita otoya, TOJI zenin, ryomen sukuna, gojo satoru, BAKUGOU katsuki, touya todoroki, keigo takami, EREN yeager, jean kirstein, IZANA kurokawa, baji keisuke, haruchiyo sanzu, ken ryuguji + your favs.

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

i will fall in love with you over and over again | katsuki bakugo x reader

summary:

Your quirk was meant to save lives, but with every revival, it slowly chipped away at your memories. Ochako smiled brighter, Deku lingered longer, and Katsuki stayed—always stayed.Even when you forgot his name. Even when you forgot him.

warnings: major angst, memory loss, spoilers!

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The first time it happened was when you revived Katsuki’s deceased cat.

You were children then, barely old enough to understand the weight of life and death. But when he found you crouched by the creek, his small hands trembling over the lifeless body of his beloved pet, his voice was already hoarse from calling your name.

“Please,” he choked out, red eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “Do it. Just…just bring her back.”

You stared at him, uncertain. The raw desperation in his voice made you second-guess whether this was really the same Katsuki who shoved you off swings and tugged on your pigtails.

But his voice cracked again, and you gave in.

Tiny hands trembling, you knelt beside him, fingers brushing against the cat’s cold fur. You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know if it would work. You were too young, too inexperienced but the light of your quirk flickered faintly between your palms.

And suddenly, she stirred.

Just for five minutes.

The cat let out a weak meow, nuzzling into Katsuki’s trembling hands. His chest hitched with a choked sob as he cradled her, burying his face in her fur.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay, girl,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He hugged her tightly, arms curled protectively around the frail creature.

And when the light in her eyes slowly dimmed once more—her small body going limp in his arms—he pressed a final, tear-soaked kiss to her head.

Then he turned to you.

Without a word, he threw his arms around you, clinging to you as though you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth. His fingers fisted the back of your shirt, shoulders trembling violently.

But your eyes were dull.

Blank.

Who… was this again?

Your fingers twitched faintly at your sides, your gaze vacant as you stared over his shoulder. There was warmth against you—the faint dampness of his tears soaking into your shirt. But you felt nothing.

When he pulled back, his red, swollen eyes searched yours.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice cracking slightly.

You blinked slowly. Tilted your head faintly.

“…Huh?”

Confusion flickered briefly across his face, but it was gone in an instant. He forced a shaky grin, nudging your forehead with his.

“Idiot,” he muttered hoarsely, ruffling your hair. “You look wiped out.”

But the faint crease between his brows lingered. And he stared at you a little longer than before.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Over time, Katsuki learned the cruel price of your quirk.

How ironic.

The ability to heal and revive—the very embodiment of hope—was also your slow undoing. A power so heroic, yet its cost so merciless.

In order to save someone, you had to lose pieces of yourself. Slivers of your heart. Fragments of memories you once held dear.

And Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder—once you were pushed to the limit, would you forget everything?

Would you forget him?

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Izuku’s body hit the ground with a sickening thud, sending dust and pebbles scattering across the broken bridge. His fingers scraped along the jagged pavement, knuckles bloodied from the fall.

He groaned softly, clutching at his shoulder as he slowly pushed himself up.

“Dammit…” he hissed through clenched teeth, wincing at the sharp sting pulsing through his arm.

But before he could rise, you were already by his side.

“Don’t move, Izu.”

Your voice was light, a soft, reassuring hum as your hands hovered over his injuries. A faint golden glow flickered between your trembling fingers, spilling warmth over his torn skin. Slowly, the bloodied scrapes faded—the broken bone mending beneath your touch.

Izuku sucked in a sharp breath as the pain dulled, his muscles loosening slightly.

But instead of relief, his chest tightened.

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist before you could continue.

“You shouldn’t use your quirk in times like this.” His voice was low but firm, his green eyes narrowed with concern. “You know how it affects you, (N/N). I can handle myself just fine.”

You forced a sheepish smile, brushing him off with a lighthearted laugh.

“Don’t worry, Izu!” you chirped, your voice too bright—too forced. “This is just me practicing for when I become a hero… I have to get used to it someday, don’t I?”

You meant it as a joke, but the faint quiver in your voice gave you away.

Because even now, you could feel it—the subtle sting behind your eyes, the faint disorientation creeping in at the edges of your mind.

It was happening again.

But you pretended not to notice.

“Idiot.”

The sharp voice came from behind you, laced with unmistakable irritation.

You barely had time to turn before Katsuki’s shadow loomed over you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His voice was low, cutting, but you caught the faint tremor in it.

“The dumbass is right,” he muttered, jerking his head toward Izuku. His crimson eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t waste your efforts on shit that can be fixed easily.”

You blinked at him.

And before you could say anything, Izuku let out a low, incredulous scoff.

“Wait—did you just agree with me?” he asked, staring at Bakugo with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Bakugo’s scowl deepened instantly. His glare snapped toward Izuku, eyes blazing with irritation.

“Shut up, dumbass!” he barked, fists clenching slightly at his sides.

Izuku’s lips parted slightly, brows knitting faintly in surprise. But then—just barely—he smirked.

“You agreed with me,” he taunted softly, his voice deliberately teasing.

Bakugo shot him a withering glare, his jaw clenching sharply. His hands twitched, sparks crackling faintly at his palms.

“Say it again and I’ll throw your nerd ass off this bridge.”

But Izuku only grinned wider, his eyes glimmering with barely concealed amusement.

And even as the two bickered—hurling threats at each other with all the ferocity of childhood rivals—you knew.

You could see it in the way they lingered close. The way they subtly kept their bodies angled toward you. The way their eyes kept flickering back—searching, wary, worried.

Because they both cared.

And you smiled softly, even as the edges of your mind blurred slightly. Even as you knew you were losing another sliver of yourself.

But you didn’t say a word.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The use of your quirk became more frequent as the three of you entered U.A. The missions grew harsher. The battles bloodier. And with them, so did the people who worried for you.

You were stronger now. Sharper. Your control over Reverie was improving—you could heal faster, revive longer. You were starting to master it, refining the edges of your power with each mission.

But the cost remained the same.

The memory loss never left—it simply grew quieter, more patient. Lurking beneath the surface, gnawing at you slowly.

It would take everything eventually.

You knew it.

And so did they.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your hands shook faintly as you pressed your palms over the woman’s bloodied chest. Her breath was shallow, fading fast, but you didn’t stop.

Golden light flickered from your fingertips, mending the torn skin, sealing the wound. You poured every ounce of strength you had left into her frail body, coaxing her pulse back to life.

You felt your quirk pulling at you—taking from you. You could feel it in the sharp sting behind your eyes, in the dull ache spreading behind your temples.

When you pulled back, the woman’s chest rose steadily, color returning to her face. She clung to your hand, her fingers trembling as she murmured a tear-soaked, broken “thank you.”

You smiled faintly.

And then you staggered, vision tilting slightly. Your knees threatened to buckle, the weight of exhaustion making your limbs heavy and sluggish.

A faint warmth trickled down from your nose.

Blood.

You stared at the crimson droplets falling onto your trembling hands. It took you a moment to register what was happening.

“Hey—hey!”

Ochako was by your side in an instant, her hands gripping your arms tightly, steadying you. Her brown eyes were wide, round with worry as she stared at the blood smeared across your upper lip.

“(N/N), you’re bleeding!” Her voice was tight, barely above a whisper. “You need to stop—”

But you shook your head, a weak, lopsided smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m okay,” you rasped softly, forcing a breathless laugh. You could taste the iron in your mouth, but you still smiled. You lied.

Ochako’s brows furrowed deeply. You could see the tremor in her hands as she cupped your face, wiping the blood from your lip with the edge of her glove. Her hands were shaking.

“Please, just rest,” she begged softly, her voice breaking slightly.

But you didn’t.

You carried on with the mission.

Despite the dizziness threatening to pull you under, despite the way your hands trembled faintly, you didn’t stop.

You pressed your bloodied hands against another fallen civilian’s chest, reviving them for five fleeting minutes.

Enough time to let their loved ones say goodbye.

You moved onto the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Because they deserved their goodbyes.

And if it meant sacrificing another sliver of yourself, you would do it without hesitation.

The man’s sobs echoed through the broken city street, his knees hitting the cracked asphalt with a hollow thud. His arms trembled as they clung to the small, lifeless body in his lap, the delicate frame of his child. Her limbs hung limp, eyes half-lidded, robbed of their light far too soon.

You had brought the child back with your quirk, just for five minutes. Enough time for the father to say goodbye.

But when she awoke, she screamed.

And the father, through tears, held her anyway.

“It’s okay… I’ve got you,” he whispered, rocking her as if he could shield her from the agony she was reliving. “Daddy’s here. I’ve got you, baby.”

The girl’s cries faded into broken gasps. She stilled in his arms before slipping away once more. Cold and lifeless.

You staggered backward, legs trembling beneath you. Something sharp cracked behind your eyes, a splintering sensation as if a fault line had split in your skull.

The world turned blurry.

When you blinked again, the sobbing man was a stranger. The charred street, unfamiliar. You stood there, lost in the very place you were supposed to save.

Katsuki’s voice cut through the fog.

“Hey! Hey, look at me!”

His voice was rough, sharp with urgency, but his hands were steady as he grabbed your face, thumbs pressed to your cheeks, grounding you.

Your eyes were unfocused, glassy with confusion. You didn’t know where you were. Who you were. But his voice was loud. Familiar. Real.

“Focus, dammit.” His forehead pressed against yours, sweat-damp hair clinging to his skin. His breath was uneven, but his voice was steady. Low. Rough. “It’s me. Come on, (N/N). Stay with me.”

And just like that, you were back.

Your chest heaved sharply, a gasp catching in your throat as your mind slowly pieced itself together. Your name. Your quirk. Your mission. His voice.

Bakugo held you in place for a moment longer, his grip firm but careful. His breathing was shaky against your temple. And when you looked into his eyes, wide with something raw and fragile— he was scared.

He almost lost you.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Then it started becoming more evident as you became the intern of a hero that owned a hospital. As her intern, you were tasked to heal patients, and if you were given the permission to, revive a patient for five minutes so their loved ones could say farewell. The heroine you were interning for, Lady Sakuko, knew the limitations and didn’t want to risk you and so you stuck with healing.

But some families begged you.. And you couldn’t say no.. It was cruel to do so.

And so you paid the price.

It started with training exercises. Lost memories slipping through your fingers. Sometimes it was minor, a name you couldn’t place, a route you couldn’t recall. Sometimes it was bigger.. Fading details of your past, faces you swore you knew but couldn’t recognize.

Your childhood best friend, Izuku, noticed first.

You were in the common room when he passed you a glass of water, his green eyes soft with concern.

“Hey, you okay? You kinda zoned out earlier.”

You stared at him blankly. “Huh? When?”

He hesitated.

“During training,” he murmured gently. “You didn’t dodge when I called your name.”

You blinked slowly at him, confused.

You didn’t remember.

His eyes softened with worry, but he forced a bright smile, brushing it off with a chuckle.

“Maybe you were just tired,” he said lightly. But the concern in his eyes lingered, even when he turned away.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You didn’t remember your favorite cafe

Ochako suggested stopping by after classl. Her voice was bright, casual, trying not to sound worried.

“Hey, wanna grab those cream puffs you like? You always get that matcha latte too.”

You blinked at her, confused.

“What café?”

Her smile faltered slightly.

“You know… the one by the park? You love that place.”

But you didn’t remember.

You stared at the tiny shop across the street, its warm glow spilling out onto the pavement, but it meant nothing to you. No familiar scent. No sense of nostalgia.

Ochako covered it quickly, her voice bright and casual.

“Oh! Maybe I’m mixing it up with someone else’s fave,” she laughed lightly. “Wanna check it out, though?”

You nodded absently, but you could feel her gaze lingering on you the entire time.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You can’t sleep.

The rooftop is cold, the wind nipping at your skin, but you don’t move. You stare out at the city, its flickering lights blurring faintly at the edges of your vision.

You hear footsteps behind you, heavy and familiar. When you glance over your shoulder, you expect to feel a flash of recognition.

But you don’t.

The blond boy strides over with his hands in his pockets, his eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows. His presence is strong—almost too much. He carries himself like he owns the entire sky.

He stops beside you, eyes narrowing slightly. “You didn’t go to your café today.”

You stare at him blankly. You don’t answer.

He turns toward you fully. His voice lowers. “What café?”

His crimson eyes falter ever so slightly. His knuckles go white in his pockets.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, he scoffs faintly.

“Tch. It’s a shitty place anyway,” he mutters. “Too sweet.”

You don’t know why, but your chest aches.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The hospital wing is too small.

Cots are pressed against every wall, medical supplies scattered haphazardly across tables. Blood stains the once-white sheets. The air reeks of antiseptic and scorched flesh.

You sit by the cot of a fallen soldier, his blood pooling onto the sheets, soaking through the thin fabric. His eyes are glassy—vacant. His fingers twitch once, and then still.

“Please…” his wife whispers from the other side of the cot. Her voice is thin, trembling. “Please, save him…”

You don’t hesitate.

Your hands, slick with blood, press down on his chest, trembling as the familiar warmth of your quirk pulses through your fingertips. Light spills from your hands, golden and dim, sinking into his ruined flesh.

He gasps sharply. His eyes snap open, and he screams.

You don’t flinch.

You hold his hand as he thrashes violently, as his body relives every wound he has ever suffered. As he sobs and clings to his wife’s trembling arms. As she cries and holds him, even as he begs for it to stop.

Five minutes.

You stay with him until he goes still again. His wife kisses his cooling lips, her sobs raw and broken. She holds him close, even though he is cold.

You slowly stand, legs trembling. Your head throbs violently, and your vision briefly tilts sideways. Your hands shake so violently you barely manage to wipe the blood from your cheek.

“(N/N)!”

You don’t register the voice at first. The words are muffled, distant, until a pair of arms suddenly wrap around you.

Ochako.

You blink slowly, trying to focus on her face, but her features swim and blur. For a brief, disorienting moment, she is a stranger.

Her hands grip your arms tightly, her voice trembling. “You’ve been overworking yourself at the hospital… (N/N), you should remember to pick who you revive. You can’t save all of them.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “But I can.”

Her eyes burn with tears. She shakes her head weakly. “And it’s taking a toll on you!” Her voice cracks as she tightens her grip. “You’re my best friend, (N/N)… I know that it’s selfish… but sometimes… people go.”

Her voice breaks on the last word.

You just stare at her, your breath shallow. You want to hold her. To promise her you’re fine.

But you don’t.

Because you can’t remember if you are.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You’re slipping.

You can’t remember your name. You can’t remember the mission. You can’t remember why you’re here.

But you know you need to keep moving.

Your legs shake as you stumble forward, your body screaming in protest. Each step feels heavier, each breath shallower, but you don’t stop.

You press your trembling hands to the bodies littered across the battlefield, summoning every ounce of power left in you.

You revive them.

Again. And again. And again.

You don’t think. You don’t breathe. You just do.

And then you find him.

His body is crumpled against the ground, blood pooling beneath him. His gauntlet is cracked, sparking faintly with remnants of his quirk. His hand lies slack around the grip. His eyes are closed.

You don’t know who he is.

But your heart shatters.

You fall to your knees beside him. Your fingers tremble violently as you press them against his chest. His blood seeps into your skin, warm and sticky, but you don’t care.

You don’t understand why you’re crying. You don’t know why it hurts so much.

But it does.

Your hands shake so violently you can barely summon the light. It flickers faintly at your fingertips, sputtering weakly. You’re too far gone. You barely have anything left.

And still, you pour everything into him. Every drop of strength, every broken piece of yourself, every memory you don’t even have anymore.

“Please,” you choke softly, voice cracked and trembling. “Please, just… come back.”

You’re not sure if you’re speaking to him, or to yourself.

You press harder, ignoring the searing pain in your arms, the tremor in your shoulders. Your vision blurs with tears you don’t understand, spilling hot and fast down your cheeks.

And then he gasps sharply, his eyes flying open with a sudden, broken breath.

You let out a strangled sob.

His chest heaves with shallow, ragged breaths. His eyes—crimson and glassy—flicker hazily to you, unfocused and wide with confusion. Blood clings to his lips, his skin pale from blood loss.

But he is alive.

And then you smile.

Tears slip down your cheeks, your eyes blurry, but you smile anyway. You let out a shaky, broken laugh, soft and breathless—because he’s breathing.

Your trembling fingers brush over his blood-matted hair, pushing the damp strands from his face. Your hands linger, trembling faintly against his skin.

You stare at the face you don’t recognize.

But somehow, somehow, it still feels familiar.

Your voice is barely above a whisper, soft and fragile, breaking faintly over the words.

“I think I loved you before.”

Bakugo Katsuki allows himself to cry.

Because you still do.

Even if you don’t remember.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The war was over.

The scars it left behind were not.

U.A. slowly stitched itself back together. The halls were quieter now. The seats emptier. The classrooms once filled with voices and laughter now carried a somber stillness.

But you were alive.

And so were they.

You sat by the window in the classroom, the sunlight spilling weakly across your desk, warming your hands. The soft murmur of your classmates lingered faintly around you, their voices dull and distant. You watched them quietly. The way they moved, the way they smiled, the way their hands trembled slightly when they thought no one was looking.

They were familiar strangers.

You knew their names because they told you. You knew their faces because they showed you old photos. You knew their stories because they sat beside you and spoke softly, laughing through their tears, hoping you would remember.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

No matter how hard you tried, it was all blank.

You stared down at your notebook, the lines empty. The words wouldn’t come. Your fingers trembled slightly against the pen, your chest tightening with something sharp and suffocating.

You clutched the pen harder.

And then you heard someone sniffle.

You glanced up, eyes widening slightly.

Ochako sat beside you, her hand pressed to her mouth, trying to stifle the small, broken sound. Her eyes were red, tears clinging to her lashes, falling despite her best efforts to hold them back.

You blinked slowly, confused.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly, your voice cracking faintly. Your eyes flickered around the room. Izuku, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, trying to smile for you. Kirishima, clenching his jaw as his hands fisted faintly on his desk, his knuckles white. Mina, her face buried in her arms, shoulders trembling softly.

And then you looked at Katsuki.

You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t look away.

There was no pain on his face. No tears. No trace of sadness.

Just tenderness. Raw and steady.

You stared at him with so much love, like your heart remembered what your mind had forgotten. Like somewhere, in the hollow of your chest, you still knew him.

And you tried so hard.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to remember—to claw through the blank spaces, to tear through the fog—desperate to find even the smallest flicker of a memory.

But nothing came.

Just empty, aching silence.

You pressed your palms against your eyes, your shoulders trembling slightly. A broken sob caught in your throat, and you shook your head sharply, voice small and broken.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out softly. “I’m so sorry. I—I can’t remember. I—”

You covered your face with your hands, hot tears slipping between your trembling fingers. You tried to stop them, tried to breathe through the suffocating weight in your chest.

“I’m trying so hard,” you whispered shakily. “I want to remember, I do. But I—I can’t. I can’t remember any of you.”

Your voice cracked painfully as you lowered your hands, your eyes desperate and glassy. You clutched the fabric of your shirt over your chest, knuckles pale from how hard you squeezed.

“And I’m so sorry…” your voice broke completely, trembling and raw, “for forgetting you.”

And then you felt warmth.

Arms wrapping around you.

Steady. Strong. Familiar.

You felt Katsuki’s hands cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping into your hair, holding you gently against his chest.

Your trembling hands fisted weakly into his shirt, clinging to him, your tears soaking into the fabric. You shook faintly in his arms, and he just held you tighter.

He pressed his lips softly against the crown of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice rough and low, but gentle. “You don’t have to remember.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face deeper into his chest, tears falling freely.

He stroked your hair softly, his voice breaking faintly as he held you closer.

“We’ll just make new memories together.”

You hiccupped softly against him, and his arms tightened faintly around you.

“We have time,” he murmured against your temple. “We have forever.”

And so you broke completely in his arms.

Because even if you didn’t remember who he was, you still knew him.

THE END.

CHOKE ME BITE ME!!

cw ; sub!dazai, fem!reader, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay safe), slight degradation(she calls him a freak and a slut), not proofread

a/n ; no I didn't write this to distract from wicked games idk what ur talking abt.

Dazai hates pain. At least that's what he tells everyone, but you knew otherwise. Well, if the way he was writhing with your hand around his throat had anything to do with it.

“mmfph! Baby I– hngh– need more– c’mon, please-” he begged, bucking his hips up into your sweet cunt, desperate for more friction that you refused to offer. You clicked your tongue, applying more pressure to his throat, cutting off his oxygen.

“You're a freak, Osamu– getting off to this?” You questioned, emphasizing your point by wrapping your other hand around his pretty neck. His cock twitched against your cervix at the action, tossing his head back with a choked moan. “Yes– please– haah– I need more, please move–”

You'd be lying if you said that having a man like Dazai plead beneath you didn't flip a switch. A satisfied hum bubbled in the back of your throat as you raised your hips enough to his tip before slamming down on him.

“Aargh! Fuck! Don't– don't stop, please-” He cried, his jaw clenching from pleasure. You wish you had your phone to take a picture, he looked breathtaking. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, hair matted to his forehead, and your lipstick smeared all over his lips. Maybe another time.

“Don't you– fuck– dare cum ‘til I say so, y'damn slut.” You breathed, chasing your release as the coil in your tummy tightened. His hands were holding onto your hips for dear life, there will definitely be marks there tomorrow. You could feel his Adam's apple bob beneath your fingers, a reminder of your previous actions.

Dazai whined for another minute or so, his rambles coming to an end. He was trying not to give away the fact his orgasm was creeping up on him. You could have laughed if he wasn't rearranging your guts right now. However, he still needed too–

“Please, lemme cum– needa– fuuuck– cum inside you, baby–” How could you resist when he asked so nicely? You swallowed thickly as you grew closer to the edge, giving him a brief nod before sinking your teeth into his pale shoulder and grasping his neck tighter than before.

He planted his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you to meet your hips, tearing a moan from your throat. His length slid against your gooey walls, hitting your sweet spots with easy precision. "'samu–! 'm gonna cum– fuck!"

"F-fuck, feels s'good– y'er pussy– haah– feels s'good, so tight, shit!" He cried out, your back arching as his thumb found your clit and drew tight circles on the bud. Your back arched, a broken moan slipping past your lips. "C'mon, cum with me– hnngh– please-"

He always ended up getting his way. It wasn't even a minute later that he was filling your cunt with his hot load, his own orgasm triggering your own. "Osamu– haah fuck!" Your hands finally freed his throat and your jaw fell slack as you reached your release.

Black spots clouded your vision for a moment before you fell limp on his chest, panting heavily as the afterglow settled. His breathing could be heard over your own, a telltale of his need for oxygen. You glanced up at him, his cheeks red and eyes closed as he caught his breath.

"'samu, I didn't–" "No, you didn't go overboard, 'donna." He cut you off, his voice a bit hoarse from your precious endeavors. Those pretty brown eyes of his fluttered open, meeting yours with a soft yet rare look. "I promise."

You took the reassurance with a smile, however, you were suddenly flipped over by Dazai, a hungry look in his eyes. "Now, let's see how much power you have with me on top this time."

y'know how kittens scream bloody murder and alter their voices when they're left alone but immediately pull a 180 when they get attention ? katsuki. it's him it's him and he's so irritating about it.

the moment he feels you've been gone for too long, he starts belting, singing–screeching your name until you show up. he just doesn't seem to notice how hard it makes you shit your pants when he pulls that kind of stunt.

you're sure he can hear the way you stomp like a herd of elephants all the way from the living room, you're ready for a fire, a burglar –anything.

you find your boyfriend calmly munching on some chips scrolling on his phone.

you're convinced you've lost your mind when he blinks back at you calmly, like he expected you to explain yourself.

"katsuki."

"mm ?" his cheeks puff out a little as he chews another handful of chips.

you feel your fingers twitch "what the hell was that ?! why'd you scream ?"

he has the nerve to furrow his brows "didn't scream. you weren't responding when i was callin' you normally, i just spoke louder."

"you didn't speak–you yelled my name out like you were getting bludgeoned." you wheeze out.

katsuki huffs, putting his phone down next to him on the couch. a slight pout forms onto his face "..well why were you gone so long ?"

"i was peeing." you deadpan, eyes wide. "i was in the bathroom, i told you that."

silence. and more silence, then katsuki discards his bowl of chips and reaches for your arm "well ya took too long. c'mere." before pulling you towards him and squeezing his head into your shoulder.

it's even worse when you don't tell him you're leaving. it could be the middle of the night with him having to wake up early the next day. you could've just gone to get a glass of water and moments later he's screeching like a banshee. you're used to it by now and after chugging down your drink with a "coming !" he's already practically wide awake (ignore his eyes drooping and the very loud yawn he let out and quickly tried to shut his mouth when you walked in) arms crossed and sitting up in bed. he'll give you a quick once over and huff, that pout again, and he speaks.

"where'd you go ? don't jus' leave like that. ." you hum, going along with his every complaint of how you 'took too long'. he shoves your head into his chest like you're a plushie and noses at your shoulder. you feel him mutter against your skin before falling asleep again."had me worried 'bout you an' shit. ."

hey, congrats 100 followers !! i would love to join your celebration♡ may i request beastzai (or js adazai) with the scenario married life (1) & all in all, it was a typical tuesday (8) as the prompt ?

congrats on 100 again !!!! it’s a big number and a big achievement !!

I think Dazai is really hot too.

✧˚ · . vroom vroom, than a table for two - dazai osamu

he certainly couldn’t complain.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → icky PDA, cutesy nicknames, minor mention of sex (it’s like barely there though) and overall puppy husband dazai. also obvious mentions of suicide its DAZAI

It was Tuesday.

And also another hardworking day at the Agency. So, so tiring, according to your husband—not that he ever worked—to the point where he simply needed a break with his lovely spouse. That’s how you found yourself hand-in-hand with him during your lunch break, walking down the sidewalks of Yokohama while he excitedly spoke about a new suicide method he had heard of.

Yesterday was a homemade shrapnel bomb, today was a wrecking ball.

“Basically, you hide out in a building that’s scheduled to be demolished and eventually it collapses on you! Pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he turned to you expectantly, a cheery smile on his face. It was quick, painless enough method of suicide. Beautiful in a way, too. Sunlight would be warming his skin, the air fresh and crisp and then tons of concrete and plaster would crush his entire body in one fell swoop. No pain, just gain of access to the afterlife.

Looking back at him, you sheepishly shrugged, replying back to amuse both him and yourself. 50% of the time, his attempts were idiotic and funny, the other 50% was genuinely worrying and mildly terrifying. Today seemed to be the former, though. Thankfully.

Plus, it wasn’t like the method would even work due to some random info you found out about on the internet.

“Yeah, but I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure they check the buildings for people before they demolish them. So you’d get found out.”

Your tone was as equally playful and light as his. He wouldn’t really kill himself. You weren’t ready for a double suicide yet, sadly. His lips curled into a frown when you mentioned how it wouldn’t work, his fingers squeezing yours as he exaggerated his sigh.

“And here I was, certain of my demise! Guess that means I’ll be with you a bit longer, darling.”

Not that he really minded.

Sure, he constantly went off about suicide and how beautiful the whole concept was, but at the end of the day, he wouldn’t want to die without you at his side. He’s firmly one of those people who’d kill himself after his beloved died. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself after you died. Sure, he made Odasaku a promise, but he made you a vow.

Until death do them part.

When you died, so would he.

But no one was dying today. Just a happy day for a happy couple.

Dazai’s hand slipped out of yours, curling around your hips instead as he pulled you closer to his side. He wanted to show off his pretty partner to anyone who happened to look over at you two. Show off the person who owns his heart and soul and is his perfect reason to live for just a little bit longer. No one else deserved his gorgeous belladonna.

Just him and him only.

Only Dazai could kiss your lips at any given moment—publicly or privately—, and only he could watch you dress up for dates, brushing out your hair while he mumbled compliments into the spot where your collarbone met your neck. Only Dazai could spend hours with you at night, hearing his name from your lips while his fingers intertwined with yours at the intimate moments.

No one else could hope to do the same with you.

That’s why he soon was leading you into a bakery, the smell of pastries and bread flooding the air as he looked over the treats in the display cases. Black sesame roll cakes, all squishy looking and yummy. The cookies ranging from chocolate chip to matcha and plain vanilla. They all looked so good, but the prices weren’t quite the same.

God, when it came to money, Dazai wished he was still in the Mafia. At least he had tons of it back then.

Now, he had to be a bit more frugal with his income from the Agency. Sure, you guys weren’t dirt poor or unable to afford food and other necessities, but you couldn’t always get special snacks like this. Maybe once every week or two, if you could do so.

Nudging your shoulder, he tapped the glass, looking at you expectantly. He always did this—letting you choose what the two of you would eat. Dazai didn’t mind either. You had good taste unlike his diet of canned crab and alcohol.

“I trust my lovely spouse’s taste and that you’ll pick something good like always.”

He was such a puppy. Only for you, he thought.

“Uhmm…dunno. Pick a number, one or two.”

Dazai placed a finger on his lips, pretending to be in thought like it was the most important decision in his twenty-two years of life so far. Brows furrowed in concentration, eyes darting between you and the sweet treats while he hummed quietly. One or two? Eh. He’d go with two. There was the two of you here, after all.

“Two.”

He watched as you pointed at a slice of strawberry cheesecake, your eyes looking at him for approval. Honestly, Dazai never understood why you wanted his approval for everything. You were his equal—his life partner, nonetheless—so there was really no need for this behavior. But he couldn’t blame you. Even now, he had a bit of a commanding aura.

“Oooooh, that looks good! Knew you’d pick something tasty.”

Dazai pecked your cheek affectionately while he held your hand walking to the counter, ordering two slices of strawberry cheesecake, taking out Kunikida’s credit card that he had ‘borrowed’ from the blondie earlier at work. Compared to the thievery he had committed in his younger years, it was practically begging to be used with how his wallet was smack dab in the middle of his desk.

Carefully holding the two plates of the cheesecake slices, he led you over to a table in the corner, giving you a fork as he sat down across from you. He didn’t eat until you dug into your piece first, making sounds of contentment as sweetness coated both your taste buds. Geez, it was good. Worth the price for sure. The corner of your lips were stained with the white frosting, and so he swiped his thumb over the mess, cooing at you like a parent.

“Ah ah, ‘donna. You’re getting messy.”

Dazai liked the flush of your face. How flustered you were as you insisted you could clean yourself and that you weren’t a baby and a fully capable grown adult.

“I’m not a baby, ‘samu! I can take care of myself, ‘kay?”

Of course, of course.

“Uh-huh. And you’re not a baby. You’re my baby. My clumsy little baby who can’t eat without making a mess.”

Chewing on the rest of his slice, minutes passed, filled with conversations between the two of you about work, how Atsushi was doing—probably still traumatized and fucked over, is what you both agreed about—, plans for dinner. You tastefully ignored his comment about what he wanted for dessert. At least there weren’t any kids in the bakery.

Thankfully for everyone else in the establishment, your ‘lunch’ was finished. Walking out of the cafe, he clasped onto your hand firmly, feeling his wedding ring rub against your skin. The sounds of honking and birds chirping filled the air, but all Dazai could hear were your gentle breaths coupled with the sound of your footsteps.

Nothing really mattered besides you, in his eyes.

His everything—his reason to live.

Eternally.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

Hello may I request a Dazai x reader, where she is horny and wants him, so while they were mhm they get interrupted by a phone call from anyone really (preferably) Atsushi.

What would happen then??

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 — a short break spent alone in secret won't hurt, right?

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — smut

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — dazai x reader ft. atsushi

There were many ways you conveyed to Dazai that you wanted him. The two of you had developed codes to communicate within the Agency without letting Kunikida know, although Ranpo always made sure to make an over-the-top disgusted face whenever it happened.

You sighed softly, marching up to wear Dazai was folding a paper into an aeroplane and dropped a paperclip onto him. It landed onto his lap. He stared at it for a few moments as you walked away. Chuckling, he ditched his airplane's failed attempt at flying and hurried over to where you were going.

That led to now; you lay sprawled along the table of the meeting room with Dazai's face buried between your legs, splitting your thighs apart with his hands roughly. His arms hooked under your legs and he was forcing himself deeper onto your cunt.

One of your hands was clapped onto your mouth, the other into his hair, pushing his head to its destination. Dazai bit and sucked along your skin ferociously, determined to make a mess of the table. He plunged his tongue inside your sopping cunt, sticking it out to taste all of your delicious juices.

You let out a loud groan, clenching his head between your thighs hard.

"Dazai, don't-"

"You're so sweet, bella. I can never get enough of you," his lips vibrated against your clit, and you shut your eyes tightly together, expecting your rapidly approaching high. "You can give me one more, yea? Stay still, baby."

You could not give him one more. You were overstimulated, grabbing desperately onto his hair as if to rip it off his scalp. Your teeth were biting into your hand reflexively, trying to stop your helpless moans and groans from seeping out to the peaceful employees of the Armed Detective Agency. Even so, you were not sure they had not heard enough to make out what was going on behind the closed doors of their meeting room.

"Just one more, bella, hang in there, please."

"I can't-"

"Please," Dazai groaned into your pussy, and the sound was enough to finally push you over the edge to your release.

You let out a loud wail, not bothering to hide it anymore, as you came onto his face, spilling your wetness onto his clothes and the floor. The table was a mess. The room smelled of fresh sex.

Your legs trembled as Dazai picked your pants from the ground after quickly stuffing your panties inside his pockets, when all of a sudden you heard a phone ring.

"It's mine, babe. Get dressed," he kissed your pussy one last time and you shuddered.

Dazai answered the phone call, slipping one of your hands inside his pants.

"Yes, Atsushi?"

Your fingers stroked his length, circling around its base before slowly gripping it by the whole, all the while you tried to wear your pants with the other hand.

"Hi! Where are you?"

"Doesn't matter," Dazai replied calmly, clenching his teeth as he felt you teasing his tip lightly. It was a bit difficult doing so. So he shifted the phone to rest between his ear and shoulder and undid the button and zip, cock springing up freely when he pushed the underwear down.

Your heart jumped at the sight, hastily standing up and leaning down to lick it.

"Mr Kunikida is looking for you. He says to call you so you won't be late."

"Won't be late for what?" Dazai hissed, fingers tangling into your hair as he leaned against the table.

"For the meeting in five minutes, of course."

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

LOVERS VICTIM ☾

gojo who bullies you constantly, but can’t stand seeing anyone else do the same.

tags — major nsfw, unprotected sex, oral (f!rec), mean gojo, slut shaming, gojo senpai, angst, jealous gojo, mean girls, public humiliation (not from gojo), pussy drunk, lowkey toxic, love struck gojo, cum dump, secretly in love, dacryphilia, dumbification, fingering,

notes — ignoring the new chp bc my baby boy is happy and livin life XD

you hated him. he was the worst person you’ve ever met. if someone put a gun to your head and asked you to name one good thing about this man, you’d probably have to say your prayers fast because you’re dead.

“one tutor session, princess?” his teasing voice was nagging as he pressed himself beside you. you hated when this happened. when he’d sit next to you just as the lecture was about to start so you’d be stuck.

“fuck off,” you huff, trying to pull out your laptop from your bag, only for his leg to keep you from getting your bag from under your seat.

this shit wasn’t new. no, instead it’s been going on for months. and I mean months. if you’d known rejecting the satoru gojo in public, let alone, at a fundraiser hosted by his family, you’d have politely said you were in a relationship, instead of the annoyed snap you gave after he tried hitting on you for a fifth time that night.

to say you rep what you sow, is a complete and utter understatement. satoru took it too personally—not to say that it wasn’t personal, it certainly was, but still!— you’re paying for it months after the fact!

“just move it, you’re acting like a child,” the same comebacks, the same snarl in his words, nothing was new here. and yet, he still refuses to leave you alone. so you had to sit the entire lecture unable to take a single fucking note because he refused to move his leg and he knew you weren’t about to cause a scene.

“asshole,” you finally shove him, grabbing your bag as the lecture ends and storming away. desperate to catch up to a mutual friend that could maybe, possibly, give you the notes….and satoru couldn’t careless.

…his eyes though….he followed the way your skirt flowed as you ran, hitting the back of your plush thighs. soft. the slight pant in your face as you reached your male friend, cute, a bit out of breath as your entire body pressed against the guy who immediately blushed at having you so close to him.

“asshole,” he mutters to himself, grabbing his own things. his blood suddenly boiling, and his veins straining in his jaw.

the campus was big, it wasn’t some small town university. no, it was one of the best in the country. you weren’t going to pride yourself and say you were the smartest shit ever, but you still tried your absolute hardest. point being, in the large fucking campus, satoru is still able to find you.

“whatcha reading—“ you don’t have time to react as he snatches the book from your hand and holds it up to read it. his brows pinched, as he looks down to see you ignoring him and instead pulling out your laptop. “what, the silent treatment again?”

no response.

he lets out a strangled sigh, unbothered by the other people in the park that take a glance, he squats down, his dress pants tightening around his built thighs and his white dress shirt crumbled across his biceps, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showing the veins that run up the sides. it wasn’t surprising that girls were tripping over as they passed by.

“princess, upset you didn’t take any notes?” he taunts, his hand tilting your chin up when you refused to respond again.

“don’t fucking touch me,” you slap his hand away, eyes deadly as you glare holes into him. you hated how worked up he gets you. especially when he’d reciprocate the same amount of anger back.

“I just asked a question, why’re you acting like a fucking bitch,” he snaps at you, nothings changed. you grab the book back, gathering up your things, only for a grip on your bag to halt you.

“god, you’re such a fucking asshole, leave me alone,” you try to pull at your bag, just as his brow quirks, eyes set on you as he lets go, watching you fall back on your ass.

“calm the fuck down, will you, I’m just playing around,” he raises his hand, his sunglasses lowered a bit to look at the way you push your skirt down quickly, covering up the peak in your panties that he certainly caught. his breath catching in his throat at the cotton blue flowers which had him immediately stand up.

“maybe don’t go wearing skirts that easily show off your panties,” he glares down at you, making you feel so small and insignificant.

“maybe don’t look there,” you snap, completely embarrassed that this is happening. his grip suddenly held your jaw, breath warming your cheeks as it fans to your ear.

“don’t piss me off again,” you felt your body shiver. “i see you parading around like a common slut. I’m just asking for the decency, not to do it in public. no wonder everyone wants to fuck you.”

your breath was uneven, even though he was no longer beside you. even though he says mean things to you all the time. it felt different this time. you felt so completely alone. you were disgusted with yourself. who was he to tell to you anything? he who’s always with someone new every week. he who has every single girl falling at the sight. he who flirts with every girl in his class just for some answers. and yet, he was the one surrounded by friends. he was the one that caused girls to spread rumors about you. he had people thinking you were sleeping with him, with every guy on campus.

“fuck him,” you hated when these moment would cause you to shed a tear. you weren’t sensitive. you could care less about people liking you or not, you weren’t here for that. it was a degree and you’re out.

that didn’t help though. especially when you volunteered for the swim tournament. the university was hosting a marathon for every full 100 meter lap they’d donate a $1000 and if the representative from the school won a race they’d donate five times that plus every person competing.

it wasn’t uncommon for you to help fundraisers. so this was no different. what you didn’t consider though was having multiple men surrounding you as you checked them in.

“how many times do I have to win, until you say yes to dinner?” one flirted, he was objectively attractive, taller than you, blonde hair, but you weren’t interested.

that didn’t stop other volunteers from making comments. fucking slut. just because she got with gojo-san, she thinks she can be with anyone.

“why don’t you race? isn’t it open to all,” another guy was speaking to you as you did a quick check of the pools, kneeling beside the water as the stands began to fill in.

“what, me?!” you said a bit too shocked, the guy laughing as his fingers helped you stand up. you shook your head, letting out a laugh. you look so cute, the guy blushing at your reaction. “i can’t swim…like at all.”

“aww,” he cooes, making you laugh at his teasing. he was cute. “i can give you lessons,” your brow quirks, slightly interested. “I’m a great teacher, I help kids on the weekends.”

“that’s too convenient,” you brush him off jokingly, the guy immediately infatuated with your attention.

it didn’t take long for satoru to notice you. especially when he was also one of the volunteers. not by coincidence of course. what he wanted was to get on your nerves some more, but instead he’s watching every single guy throw themselves at you. but it was too convenient, especially with how some volunteers were snickering at you.

as the stands began to fill up, the more swimmers lined the pool. you were immediately eaten up by them, as you moved up on the stand. you were announcing the swimmers. but something was off.

bitch is getting what she deserves. cant wait to see the look on her face. she dressed all nice in that slutty outfit! satoru felt his blood run cold, eyes scanning to find the guys from earlier, fake wrestling by the stands loose base.

I don’t know if this is such a good idea. I heard she can’t swim. that’s exactly why! needs to learn a lesson about humility.

“what did you say!” satoru’s voice startled the group as they turned to face the man. his eyes were dark, veins bulging out of his white tee. he didn’t have time to get angry, until he was looking up at the loud gasp from the audience. your body already plunged in the water, too far from the edge to reach.

“shit!” his blood was boiling as he watched the swimmers just stare around the pool, struggling to push past the bodies before diving in the water. how fucking deep is this pool?! his hands grabbed your flailing body, pulling you to the surface.

“y/n!” you were coughing up the water, body shaking as you held onto him desperately. “fuck.”

“f-fucking asshole,” you cough, body struggling to get away from him, only for his grip to slip as you sink back into the water unexpectedly.

“don’t struggle, shit! just hold on!” he yells at you, as you cough some more, now holding him too tightly. “you’re gonna strangle me.” he jokes, but it’s received only by the trembling of your body. his hand pressed on your back, unconsciously soothing your body as he swam to the edge. his arm was tight around your body as he had you hold onto the edge as he lifted his body up.

the audience members gasping and whispering to each other as satoru’s white shirt easily showcased his sculpted body, his hand pushing his beautiful white hair back as he kneeled by the edge, pants tight around his crotch as his arms flexed pulling you up.

too say the girls were livid was an understatement. they were fucking seething when satoru gojo carried the girl instead of having her walk! her body curling in his arms from embarrassment and shame as she hid her face. he kept a deadly stare ahead, silencing anyone that even dared to look, having every single one of them cowering at his gaze. his aura too powerful for them to even breathe, almost choking on it. the biggest player in the university was a terrifying sight to see angry.

he hadn’t realized you were crying until he heard the quiet sniffles when he’d reached the empty locker room. your body was quivering in his arms, you hadn’t said a word to him, not even struggling in his hold as he sat down on the bench, his own head falling back, looking up at the ceiling.

his lips parted, stare blankly. but his grip only tightened around you.

what am I doing. he couldn’t make sense of his own actions. his emotions were a mess, anger, jealousy… he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. it was too disgusting. he hated himself for feeling this way.

“i hate you,” your fist squeezed his wet shirt. you were embarrassed, humiliated, and so fucking angry. this happened because of him. it’s his fault!

“i think you should be thanking me,” he snarks back, still not daring himself to look down at you.

“thanking—“ your blood was boiling. “thanking you? for what exactly?! for making everyone hate me? for embarrassing me—“

“for saving your life, for starters,” his eyes try to remain up, the water still trickling from is wet hair cascading down the column of his neck, his skin glistening as his chest rose and fell with each passing breath. your eyes followed the tight clothes that stuck perfectly as you saw his jaw clench. “and it’s not my fucking problem that you don’t have any friends.”

your breath hitched, and he caught it. his eyes betraying him, cursing himself when his heart stopped. the glossy eyes held in so much rage and hate, and the pinch in your eyebrows, the embarrassing tremble of your lip, fuck he wanted to bite them.

“i can’t even talk to you like a normal person,” you mutter, body moving on your own, as you try to get up. you couldn’t believe him, after everything that happened, could he not see your side? you’re not playing the victim, you could careless if everyone just ignored you, but this crossed a line. being invisible is better than being targeted. at least then people can’t say you’re doing it for attention—

“where’re you going,” he couldn’t loosen his grip. he didn’t want too. he was too used to your body heat. the weight on his lap—

“let go of me, I’m done with your stupid games. It’s not funny anymore,” now you’re struggling, squirming to pull his arms away, but it was hard. it was hard because why was he looking at you like that? why did his eyes pull you in? “senpai—“

“you think I wanted this to happen to you?” he snaps, blood boiling.

“yes! it’s even more humiliating that you had to save me!” the frustrations and insecurities that you had control of, was suddenly starting to boil over. all because of this asshole—

“so you wanted me to do nothing?”

“just leave me alone,” your throat is tight, don’t cry don’t cry dontcrydontcrydontcry

“and if I say no?” you couldn’t breathe, the proximity, suffocating.

“i don’t care, just stop it!” you’re now forcefully trying to get off, only to wince when his grip tightens. “senpai—let go—“

he moved too quick for your mind to comprehend, his lips crashing onto yours. the wind completely knocked out of you. his grip around your waist was burning, the other hand held your jaw as you whined in his mouth. his tongue was so warm and wet as it easily pushed into your lips, before you shoved him back.

“what the fuck?!” fuck…the tears slipped. “what’s wrong with you?!”

“i don’t know,” his jaw clenched. eyes shamefully looking away as he cursed again. “I couldn’t help myself—“

“what do you want from me?” satoru could feel your chest beating against his. your breath fanning still short of breath.

“I don’t know,” his voice much lower now, sending an unexpected feeling right down to your core. his eyes stilling on yours, thumb gently caressing your damp face, wiping the slow humiliating tears that seemed to escape one after the other.

you couldn’t properly think. you want to make sense of this. you did. but what is there to make sense of? everything in life is confusing, but this was someone who’s bothered you endlessly for two fucking semesters. it was exhausting—

he kisses you again.

you whine again.

you push him back again. your eyes are downcast, out of breath once again. his lips were so wet, yours were so soft. his hand was rubbing your side, soothing you. his eyes felt too real….too genuine.

he comes closer, the proximity had your lips just grazing one another, his breath taking in your own as his thumb gently eased your nerves as you felt it rub your jaw, holding the side of your face.

your lips pushed forward, and that’s all he needed. your lips moved in complete sync, as if you both knew the others body. your moans flowed in hushed whines as he felt up your body, groaning as you rolled your hips slowly, circling the growing bulge that was easily visible through his wet clothes.

“gonna make me loose control, princess,” he groans, grabbing your ass, adam apple bobbing as his hips jerk, pressing you down firmly.

“didn’t take much,” you reply, cheeks blushing as you earned a chuckle from the white haired man, only for your breath to hitch as he lifted you in the air. your arms immediately falling on his shoulders as he sat you on the bench in his place and dropped to his knees.

“let’s see this fucking pussy, I know you’re soaked,” he easily tossed your wet shorts off, which only seemed to be a bit of struggle. but it was well worth it when he pushed your legs apart, eyes immediately falling onto your drenched strawberry panties that hugged your pussy lips. “shiit, i can fucking see right through,” he laughs, thumb rubbing through your clothed folds making you bite down a whine.

“keepin yourself quiet?” his eyes flick up.

your cheeks feel hot, eyes stuck waiting for his next move that you only gave him a silent pout, as if you weren’t shutting yourself up.

“you look so cute in these,” he grins, pressing his face between your legs, kissing your clothed pussy.

“stop teasing,” you blush, as his eyes look up at you, smiling as he rubbed his face, he couldn’t help his cock from growing. his thick fingers skillfully pulling your sticky wet panties to the side as he took his tongue and licked up, up, before kissing your clit between his lips.

“ahhhhh, fuuh uhck,” your lips quivered as you reached for something—

“mmm, pull my hair,” satoru guided your other hand to hold his hair tighter, your hips were bucking as he absolutely devoured your leaking hole. “good fucking pussy,” he pulls back spreading your legs ever further as his thumbs pulled your slippery folds apart, getting a nice clear view of your pretty pussy. it was absolutely drenched stupid, your chest heaving as he soothed a hand on your tummy as his thumb rubbed circles on your cute little bud.

“your mouth—mmfh uhahh ah senpai—“ your head was thrown back, holding his hair.

“you’re so cute,” he groans, flicking your clit so fucking teasingly as you moaned over and over. edging you on and on. your eyes were seeing stars as you cried for more, just to feel warmth spread inside as he let a glob of spit fall on your cunt. trickling down inside your pussy, some sliding down to your ass.

“so pretty when you’re making a mess,” he murmurs, lips brushing your puffy wet folds, your heart beating in anticipation, as you felt his warm breath fan against you. his lips parted as he took a kitten licks, your fingers tangling in his white hair as he hummed. “taste so sweet,” he groans form the back of his throat, tongue making out with your lips before slipping inside your hole, the feeling had your whines echoing.

he was so fucking drunk. your taste, scent, he couldn’t help himself. his eyes shut as he coaxed another orgasm, your eyes falling shut as you pulled at his hair. his face moving back and forth, pulling you closer and closer, until you came with a muffled moan. your arm over your mouth.

“can’t stop tasting you,” his pants like a dog, tongue hanging out as he watches your pussy spasm. “more, princess,” he whines licking up your generous cream, sucking every thing, until he pulls away, middle and ring finger gliding inside, your tight walls, squelching at the intrusion. some more juices trickled down his fingers as he hums. “you’re so nice, giving me so much.”

“sen…pai,” the broken whine, sent his mind off. everything about your moans and body was just so fucking perfect.

“might cum from how good you taste?“ he kisses your swollen nub, “tell me how good yer feelin….cmon baby,” his free hand gave your inner thigh a tight squeeze as his fingers splayed. your hips bucking as your hand stroked his hair, eyes rolling back as he pumped his fingers inside you.

“you’re uh…so good,” your voice strained, orgasm coming on faster than before. he was not giving you a single break, his fingers curling up pressing against your sweet spot, lips sucking desperately on your swollen bud. you were so close—

“I was not expecting them to pull that shit. that was too far—“ the voices coming from the entrance immediately had your body jerking up.

“mmfh…w-wait—“ you were desperately trying to push his pretty face away, but he only went faster. his cheeks flushed pink as an unexpected moan came from the back of his throat. it looked like he was enjoying this more than you, he was glad that his pants were already soaked, so you couldn’t see his cum spraying in his tight pants. your hand went over your mouth trying to conceal the orgasm the ripped through you.

“stay quiet,” his lips were suddenly on yours, you couldn’t even think properly as his body lifted yours. your arms wrapped around his shoulders, allowing him to take you away.

don’t ask how things like this happen, because honestly even if you try to follow it linearly, you’ll still be stunned how you could’ve ended up on satoru gojo’s bed. your wet clothes were discarded on the ground as his fingers pulled at your nipples.

“you’re soaking the sheets, mmm…ya like it that much?” he sucked bruises on your hips and inner thighs. his face smeared with your juices, too addicted to the taste, he had to dive for seconds.

“senpai,” your sweet voice was like honey, it was too easy for his body to move on your command. automatically catching your lips in a deep kiss. he tasted like you, but his hands were pushing your legs up, pumping his heavy cock, his tip swollen, aching for you.

“is this your first?” his tongue played with yours, his cheeks flushing at the thought of taking away your first. his pre-cum oozing down on your puffy folds at being the first to go inside you.

“you’re not that special,” you slur, mind blessed out as your hands stroked his flushed cheeks. his brows pinched together pulling away to look at you. he had to contain himself, your pretty lips smeared with his spit, eyes blessed out from the amount of times you’ve cum just by his lips and fingers, you looked stunning.

“who fucked you?” his blood suddenly boiling as your thumb gently played with his swollen lips. his eyes half lidded with a sudden coat of dark blue as you answered.

“kento-kun,” you were a bit glad for this small break so you could catch your breath, pretty tits pushing up as you took deep breaths. “he was a lab partner in first year—“

“nanami?” his jaw clenched. he vaguely remembered the blonde. “you let him fuck you?”

“I’m letting you fuck me,” your hands are glued to him, unable to rip them away as they continue to caress and feel his naturally soft skin. “you still wanna fuck me, right?” you’re leaning up, lips grazing his, you were didn’t want admit how much you wanted him right now. his cheeks, chin and lip all coated in your juices—

“you some whore now?” his cold stare sent shivers down your spine as you suddenly felt your stomach churn in disgust.

“says you,” you suddenly realize who you’re with right now. “whatever,” you push him to the side, body sliding to get off the bed. what were you thinking—

“wait, wait!”

his arms tightly wrap around you, stopping you as he buries his face in your neck.

“I’m sorry…. don’t leave,” his voice was soft, a bit shaky, as he kissed your shoulder, neck, pulling you into his firm chest as you gave in again.

“do you hate me?” your words felt like knives. his movements freezing.

“I don’t hate you,” he turns your face so he can see your eyes, his hand was warm on your jaw.

“then why’re you such a dick all the fucking time?” your throat felt dry.

“I don’t know,” he dropped his head. “I can’t explain it,” his lips pressed onto yours. “i need you,” he mutters. “all the time,” he’s practically whining into your lips as you turn over, laying him down, legs straddling his waist as you rocked your hips, pussy leaking on his cock. “i can’t leave you alone,” he pants, holding your face as his eyes flutter seeing your pretty face above him. “i can’t think when I see you.”

“you in love with me or something?” you tease.

silence…

you pull away. what’s going on? your stomach churned at the flustered expression on the man’s face. his eyes glossed over, and his face bright pink. his lips parted—

“d-don’t answer that!” what the fuck?!

you weren’t thinking straight! so you pushed everything back and kissed him, your hips moving up as you swiped at his flushed tip, his body shuddering at your small hands picking up his hefty girth.

“you’re pretty sensitive,” you comment, his blue eyes look over at you with an embarrassed scowl.

“let’s see you take it,” an arm goes behind his head as the other rubbed at your hip, smirking as you lifted your hips, pressing his tip to your entrance. he had to contain his own moan as you slowly sank down on. your eyes unconsciously fluttered, you barely have experience, you were faking this whole shit. you’ve never been on top before!

his eyes flicked up to your pinched expression as you slowly struggled to take his tip. your juices squelching down his cock to his trimmed base as your body shuddered.

“need help?” satoru leans up, grabbing at your sides, as he kissed your neck, he wasn’t that mean…

“I can do it,” you stubbornly huff. cheeks flushed as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“it’s okay if ya need my help, I won’t tease you, princess,” he says with a wide grin, his ego easily going through the roof as he watched your body struggle. “I’m bigger than most—“

“it’s just…” you’re already out of breath, sweat trickling down your temple as you struggled. “been awhile.” you clamp around him unexpectedly.

“shit—might cum just from your dirty pussy squeezing me,” his hips buck on instinct, earning a strangled moan to escape your lips. “fuckk,” satoru throws his head back, abs clenching as his legs trembled, suddenly wrapped his arms under your thighs grabbing your ass, biceps flexing as his abs tightened, easily lifting your body up as his tip spurted excessive amounts of cum, littering your pussy lips and falling to his pelvis.

“did you just…cum?” you’re holding his shoulder as satoru trembled underneath you. a bit out of breath, he can’t remember the last time he’s came so fast.

“shut up,” his jaw clenched as he slams your hips down, your eyes bulging out as your pussy swallowed his entire pulsing cock, feeling his cum trickle out.

“ahh! uh making me feel good,” you’re an absolute mess. his cock thrusting up at an unrelenting pace as he holds your body.

“fuck, you’re taking me so well, uh so deep inside ya—“ satoru was a babbling mess as he fucked up your tight pussy. your tits were bouncing so beautifully, he couldn’t help but latch his lips around your nipple to contain his whines. suckling on the erect bud as you whined.

“ahh, it’s so deep!” you’re eyes were rolling back as you clamped down, legs trembling as you felt a wave rush over you.

“oh.”

you’re panting, eyes half lidded as satoru manhandled your body to rest on the bed, as he moved over you.

“i think this cute pussy loves feeding me,” his voice was low, your fingers lazily petting his cheek, “now don’t give up on me, pretty,” he kissed your shoulder as his hand pumped his still very erect dick. “i still have a bit to go.” you felt him kiss your cheek as he turned you a bit more until you were on your tummy. his hand sliding down your back. “lift that pretty ass for me.”

“this…good?” you couldn’t think straight, as your back arched, pushing your ass up, giving it a cute shake as your pussy hole squeezes some more juices out, satoru bit his lip, groaning from the back of his throat at the image of your twitching hole.

“you’re so nice, baby,” he cooes, rubbing his fingers in your wet folds, as if he was petting you for listening to him. and you ate it up, whining as you pressed into him. “fuck, you’re so needy.”

your hips jerked at the harsh slap to your pussy, a whine coming out as you received another one. your nub was big and swollen and you couldn’t stop your juices from sliding down your thighs. even so, satoru was hypnotized.

“i think I might cum, just from seeing how much fun yer havin,” he bites his lip as he watches your tongue hang out, still obeying him as you kept your back arched and pussy and hole on full display. he could see everything.

“i wanna join the fun, cutie,” his cock felt unbelievably heavy, already knowing the build up inside his swollen length. “good girl,” he sighs rubbing his length in your juices again, slapping his tip on your oversensitive clit.

“good….fucking girl,” his moan was so loud as he slid back inside your pussy. your eyes roll back as you clawed at the sheets. why did he feel bigger! you couldn’t think anymore, cheeks bursting with heat as his hand grab at your hips pulling out, squelching oozing into your ear drums as he slammed back it, filling you to the brim.

“I’m so deep… mmh..kissing your womb,” satoru leans over your body, fucking you faster now. you were a crying mess.

“se…..sen…”

“can’t understand you, princess,” his arm wraps around you, lifting your body up, as he turns your face. “shit.” his abs clench at the fucked out look in your face.

“please….call me….ah y/n,” tears and drool stained your face as he held your jaw, cock pulsing inside you as a grin took over his flushed face.

“why?” he kisses your ear, licking at the lobe as his other hand pinched your sensitive nipples, making you squirm and clench around him. he suddenly grabs your hips, and snaps into you again, and again. “you just want to have sex so we can play lovers? is that it?” his jaw clenched as his blood was boiling. “letting your bully fuck your stupid pussy?” your moans were so loud he was desperate not to bust a load right now.

“do you even like me?” his body laid over yours, turning your jaw again to see your flushed face, tongue hanging as you whined.

“se..pai….”

“my name isn’t….senpai, now is it?” his jaw clenched, biting your shoulder as you cried.

“so….sorrryy!” you were a babbling mess, so fucking stupid you could barely think. yet…

“my name isn’t sorry either,” he doesn’t stop his pace, still fucking your squelching hole, pressing down on the bulge in your tummy making your back arch, tears bursting as your head fell on his shoulder.

“pretty y/nn… you’re already mine aren’t you?” his tongue played with yours as you moaned at the sound of your name on his lips. “can’t speak anymore?” he laughs feeling your pussy reply to his words. “it’s okay….I’ll take care of your dumb little head,” his own body is loosing control. his balls tighten as you held his arms, feeling one wrapped in front of your shoulder as the other held your head, in a headlock.

“shittt, you’re fucking….”

“cu…cummi—ahh!” was the only warning you gave as you creamed around him with a high pitched moan, your body was shaking as you gushed. satoru pressed his face to your head as he continued giving sloppy thrusts.

“fu-fucckk,” his body shook as he felt the first spurts of his cum squirt inside you.

your nails dug into his forearms as you looked over your shoulder. he felt his heart skip a beat, cock busting as you smiled…

“please…keep cumming inside me.” your tongue hanging out, eyes clouded over.

“mmfhh….damn you!” satoru cursed, turning you over. pushing your leg up. “you’re just too…cute!” his jaw clenched as his eyes rolled back, leaning over your body as he suddenly sank even deeper inside, a choked moan came from his chest.

“ahhh toru!” that was his final straw. the sound of your voice screaming his name immediately had his hefty cock, squirting creams of thick white cum inside you.

“shit y/n…s-say my name again—“ he’s practically whimpering; panting, body shuddering as he still manages to move inside you as he pushes more cum even deeper.

“toru…feels good…you’re so good, so good,” you’re hugging his head as he groans, thrusts so sloppy, as you bite your hand from how sensitive you’re feeling.

“give me all of it, toru,” you slur, eyes foggy as he whines, kissing you, but it was more like drooling in your mouth because his head was no longer there, he couldn’t stop cumming.

his tongue was hanging out as his big hand pressed down on your tummy, surging more cum to shot inside you.

“you’re uh…making me stupid,” he shudders as he sees your tummy swelling. he twitches as he carefully begins to pull out. “think you broke my dick.”

“toru…” his eyes glance up. “satoru?” it was like instinct, immediately leaning down for you to cup his flushed cheeks, leaning into your touch as you smile.

“what is it?” he whispers, heart beating fast as you continue to caress his cheeks.

“why do you need me?” the question catches him off guard. he swallows thickly, struggling to maintain eye contact. “answer me.”

“I’m…” scared? he can’t excuse the shit he made you feel before, the consequences for his own actions, he was a real piece of shit. and for what? all because he— “I’m jealous when you’re not with me.”

you’re silent, his eyes darting, trying to avoid your eyes, as he mumbles in shame. “i don’t like it when you talk to other people, or when you’re….” he stops himself. “im fucking shit.”

“you are,” you maintain your stern tone as you see something crack behind his eyes. “so tell me why.”

what did you want him to say? he didn’t want to fuck this up! he finally has you! after so long…he can’t loose you now!

“i…i was upset you rejected me,” he mumbles, cheek flaring. “but after that I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“that’s kinda fucked up,” your hands still brush his cheek, pushing back the loose white strands that were stuck to his forehead. he bites his cheek.

“not that surprising, I’ve always been a piece of shit,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes. his heart suddenly skips a beat, looking back once he heard you laugh. his own lips curling into a smile.

“god you’re something else,” you can’t stop laughing, pulling him to your lips. “is this when you suddenly change for the better?” you mumble.

he smirks against your lips, “who knows? i did get what I wished for.”

istg this was supposed to be a quick little drabble but ig that’s impossible for me :p

A BOXERS STRUGGLES !

ft. boxer!katsuki bakugo x f!reader

summary: Bakugo is fiercely dedicated to becoming Japan's number one boxer, but he faces inner conflict when he starts developing feelings for someone. His fear of distraction threatens his rise to the top, creating tension between his personal life and his aspirations. As their relationship deepens, he learns to balance his love for her with his desire to succeed in boxing. [wc: 5k]

The gym stank of sweat and blood. The air was thick with the sounds of fists pounding heavy bags, the rhythmic shuffle of footwork against the mat, and the sharp commands of coaches drilling fighters into champions.

This was Katsuki Bakugo’s world. The ring was his domain. The roar of a crowd? Just white noise. The only thing that mattered was the moment his fist connected—the instant he proved, without question, that he was better.

His opponent staggered back, legs wobbling. His ribs were bruised, his breath shallow. He was still standing, barely, but Bakugo could already see it in his eyes.

He was finished.

Aizawa’s voice rang through the gym. “Stay sharp, Bakugo.”

Katsuki Bakugo stood in the center of the ring, fists clenched in his taped-up hands, his breath controlled despite the fire burning in his chest. His opponent for today’s spar was already on his knees, clutching his ribs, coughing through the pain.

“Get up,” Bakugo growled, shaking out his fists. “I ain’t done with ya’ yet.”

The other fighter grimaced trying everything in his power to rise, but before he could, the coach called it.

“That’s enough, Bakugo!” His trainer, Aizawa, sighed from outside the ropes, arms crossed over his chest. “I told you to spar, not destroy.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue and turned away, grabbing a towel from the corner post to wipe the sweat off his face.

“If he’s too weak to take a hit, he shouldn’t be in the ring,” he muttered, stepping out of the ropes.

“That ‘weak’ fighter you just knocked out was ranked fifth in the region.”

“Then I guess I’m already top four.”

Aizawa exhaled through his nose and shook his head lightly, but there was the ghost of a smirk in his otherwise impassive expression. Bakugo had talent—raw, explosive talent that had propelled him through the rankings faster than anyone had expected. But he had a fatal flaw.

He fought like a man trying to bury something.

Something he was afraid to lose.

Bakugo exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he looked down at his fallen opponent. It wasn’t personal. It never was. The guy had stepped into the ring knowing what he was getting into. If you weren’t ready to fall, you shouldn’t be fighting.

“Damn, man!”

The sound of Kirishima’s voice cut through the noise before Bakugo felt a heavy arm slap against his back. “That was sick! You dropped him like a sack of bricks.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, walking toward his corner to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Tch. If he went down that easy, he shouldn’t have been in the ring with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re a beast.” Kirishima laughed, leaning against the ropes. “Which is exactly why you need to come out tonight. We’re celebrating.”

Bakugo shot him a glare. “The hell we are.”

“C’monnn, man! You’ve been tearing through the ranks like crazy. People are talking. You’re undefeated, making a name for yourself, and you’ve got fans.” Kirishima smirked. “I mean, how many guys get this far at our age?”

“I’m not doing this for a goddamn party,” Bakugo muttered, tossing the used tape into the trash.

Kirishima groaned. “Bro. You never do anything outside the gym. You don’t even celebrate your own wins.”

Because there was nothing to celebrate. Winning wasn’t the goal—it was the standard.

Bakugo was going to be the best boxer in Japan. That wasn’t just some damn dream or some nice idea to hope for. It was a fact. Something inevitable. And if it wasn’t inevitable, then he just had to train even harder than before.

There was no reason to slow down.

No reason to waste time at some party.

But Kirishima was still looking at him, hopeful as ever, and Bakugo knew the bastard wouldn’t shut up about it.

He clicked his tongue. “Tch. Fine. But I’m not staying long.”

Kirishima cheered. “Hell yeah!”

This is a waste of time.

Bakugo knew it. He knew he should be in the gym, working on his footwork, watching fight tapes, doing something, anything, to get ahead of the competition.

But he ignored the voice in his head, just this once.

Plus, was the worst that could happen?

The party was loud. So agonizing loud.

The bass from the speakers thumped through the floors, shaking the walls of the packed apartment. People were everywhere, drinking, laughing, talking too damn much. Some of them he recognized—fighters from the gym, people from the local boxing circuit—but most of them were just randoms.

“Here.” Kirishima shoved a drink into his hand.

Bakugo took one look at it and scoffed. “I ain’t drinking that shit.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Man, at least pretend you’re having fun.”

Bakugo didn’t respond. He was already regretting this.

He didn’t belong here.

This wasn’t his world.

He was about to leave when Kirishima perked up, eyes lighting up as he spotted someone across the room. “Oh, shit! She actually came.”

Bakugo barely glanced over. “Who?”

Kirishima grinned. “That girl I told you about—(Y/N).”

Bakugo finally looked.

You weren’t flashy like some of the other girls here. You weren’t trying to be the center of attention, weren’t draped over some guy’s arm, weren’t looking at him like he was some kind of goddamn celebrity.

You were just sitting there, talking to a friend, nursing a drink in your hand. You didn’t even seem all that interested in the party at all.

And somehow, that was the first thing that made him notice you.

Kirishima nudged him. “She’s cool. I think you’d actually like her.”

Bakugo scowled. “Tch. Since when do you set me up with people?”

“I’m not setting you up,” Kirishima laughed. “But seriously, man. You need to talk to people who aren’t trying to punch you in the face for once.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. He wasn’t here to meet people. He was here to get Kirishima off his back, and then he was leaving.

But then, as if you could feel him looking, your gaze flicked over to his.

And you smiled.

Not in an over-the-top way. Not in that annoying, flirty, “I’m just here for the fighters” way.

Just a simple, amused smile. Like you knew something he didn’t.

And for some stupid, infuriating reason, that was enough to make him stay a little longer.

You didn’t approach him first.

That was the second thing he noticed about you.

You weren’t like most people who came up to him at these kinds of events—all wide-eyed admiration and empty compliments. You weren’t trying to impress him.

If anything, you were unimpressed.

And that… bothered him.

So when Kirishima finally dragged him over to introduce you, Bakugo was already in a foul mood.

“(Y/N), this is Bakugo,” Kirishima said, grinning. “Bakugo, this is (Y/N). She’s cool, I swear.”

You gave him a once-over, raising an eyebrow before smirking. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes. “Tch. That so?”

“I’ve been to a couple of your fights.” You shrugged. “You don’t let them last very long, huh?”

He scoffed. “Why the hell would I?”

You tilted your head. “I dunno. Wouldn’t kill you to put on a show for once.”

Kirishima snorted. “Damn. She’s got you there, man.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was just some guy instead of a rising champion.

But you weren’t mocking him.

You weren’t flirting, either.

You were just… talking to him.

And for the first time in a long time, Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t sure how to respond.

This was bad.

This was exactly the kind of distraction he couldn’t afford.

The next day arrived as Bakugo got out of bed, the sunlight streaming through his window, casting a warm glow across his room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, he could still feel the weight of the events from the previous night lingering in his mind, making it hard to focus.

Bakugo didn’t do distractions.

He trained. He fought. He won. That was it.

He didn’t waste time at parties, didn’t fuck around with meaningless shit like relationships or making friends outside of the gym. There was no point. The only thing that mattered was getting stronger.

So why the hell had he stayed at that party longer than he intended?

Why the hell had you stuck in his head?

It pissed him off more than it should have.

It wasn’t like you had done anything special. You weren’t drooling over him like most people who recognized his name. You weren’t trying to get something out of him. You weren’t even acting impressed.

You were just… there.

And for some stupid reason, that was what made him notice you.

Tch. Whatever. It doesn't even matter anymore.

He wasn’t gonna waste time thinking about some random girl.

So, as usual, he threw himself into training.

The gym was empty except for the steady rhythm of his fists pounding the heavy bag. It was late—so late that even Aizawa had already left for the night, trusting Bakugo to lock up when he was done. The only sounds that filled the space were the heavy thuds of leather meeting flesh and the occasional creak of the building settling around him.

His body ached, but it wasn’t enough. The burn in his muscles was a reminder of how hard he was working, yet it only fueled his determination. He needed more. More speed. More power. More control. He needed to push himself past his limits, to go beyond what he was yesterday. Each punch felt like a step toward a higher version of himself, a way to stave off the ever-looming fear of being left behind.

Because if he didn’t—if he slowed down for even a second—someone else would catch up. The thought danced tauntingly in the back of his mind, an insidious whisper that he couldn't shake off. He refused to let that happen; he wouldn't allow anyone to inch ahead of him.

So he fought harder, faster, his focus narrowing like a predatory gaze. The world beyond the gym faded, blurring into insignificance as he lost himself in his routine. He was so absorbed in his relentless pursuit that he barely noticed when someone else walked into the gym. The door creaked softly, almost lost in the noise of his efforts, and he instinctively increased his intensity, a faint flicker of curiosity stirring deep within him. Who would dare interrupt his sanctum?

“Jesus. Do you ever go home?”

His fist stopped mid-swing.

He turned, scowling, only to find you leaning against the doorway.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” he snapped.

You shrugged. “Kirishima told me you’d still be here. Thought I’d stop by.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tch. Don’t you got somewhere better to be?”

“Probably,” you said easily, walking further into the gym. “But this is more interesting.”

That threw him off. Most people didn’t stick around after his fights. Not unless they wanted something.

But you weren’t asking for anything.

And that was what made you dangerous.

He grabbed his water bottle and took a long sip, trying to ignore the way you were watching him.

“You train like you’re running from something,” you said suddenly.

He nearly choked on his water. “The fuck did you just say?”

You leaned against the ring, arms crossed, studying him with an expression that was way too goddamn knowing. “You fight like there’s something chasing you.”

He scoffed. “Tch. You don’t know shit about fighting.”

“I know about people,” you shot back.

His jaw clenched.

Because that was the problem.

You weren’t looking at him like a fighter. You were looking at him like a person. And that threw him off. It wasn’t just the intensity of your gaze; it was the way you seemed to see him—past the tough exterior, into something deeper.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

You didn’t go away after that initial encounter. Somehow, you kept showing up—at the gym, at his fights, infiltrating his thoughts at the most inconvenient times. You’d sit on the sidelines, a calm presence amidst the chaos, watching with that same unreadable expression that both intrigued and frustrated him. You didn’t fawn over him. You didn’t try to flirt or get his attention. You were just… there.

And no matter how much he tried to ignore you, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were gradually unraveling him.

“Yo, you good, man?” Kirishima asked after a particularly exhausting sparring session, wiping sweat from his brow.

Bakugo scowled, his irritation simmering just below the surface. “The fuck kind of question is that?”

Kirishima smirked, a knowing light in his eyes. “I dunno, dude. You’ve been off lately. Like, you’ve been extra agitated every time (Y/N) is around.”

Bakugo’s fists tightened into balls at his sides, his heart racing. “Shut the hell up.”

Kirishima just laughed, unfazed. “Bro. You’re so obvious.”

There was nothing obvious about it, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. The truth was, every time he caught a glimpse of you cheering for him—your lips curled into that soft smile, your eyes sparkling with pride—he felt something shift inside him. Something he wasn't prepared to confront.

It was maddening how a simple presence could ignite a fire in his chest.

He cursed under his breath, pushing the thought aside. There was nothing to even talk about, nothing to feel. Because whatever this was—whatever you were doing to him—he wasn’t gonna let it get in the way.

He refused to let his heart get tangled in the mess of feelings he didn’t understand. But deep down, a part of him wondered if perhaps being a fighter meant more than just throwing punches. Perhaps it meant fighting for something—or someone—worth it.

So, as always, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He trained harder.

And harder.

And harder.

Like he could beat the thought of you out of his head.

Like he could make himself stop wanting something he wasn’t supposed to have.

But no matter how hard he tried…You were still there.

And that was the real problem.

After that night, things… shifted.

He stopped avoiding you. Stopped pretending you didn’t exist.

You still weren’t pushing to be in his life, but somehow, you were just there—closer than before.

And maybe… just maybe… he liked that.

A little too much.

Recently, You started showing up at the gym more.

You never interrupted his training, never got in his way, but he could feel you there. Could hear the way you’d tease Kirishima when he dropped a weight. Could hear your voice in between the rounds of his sparring matches.

And you wanna know the worst part about it?

He started looking forward to it.

“You’re getting better,” you said one day, watching him hit the pads with his trainer.

He wiped sweat from his brow, smirking. “Tch. ‘Course I am. I’m not some weak-ass rookie.”

You rolled your eyes. “Never said you were. But you used to just go for the kill every fight. You’re starting to actually think in the ring.”

His smirk faltered.

Because that was true, too.

He fought like a ticking time bomb, each punch a detonation of raw power that sent shockwaves through his opponents. His reputation was built on pure brute force, but recently… everything had shifted.

He was evolving.

Taking a breath.

Learning the game.

Maybe it was because, for the first time, he had someone whose opinion actually mattered to him.

Shit.

This was spiraling out of control.

It wasn’t just in the ring anymore.

You started showing up in his life outside the gym, too. After every match, you’d be there, thrusting a water bottle into his hands before he could even catch his breath.

“You’ve got to hydrate, dumbass” you’d tease, rolling your eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And hell, he found himself addicted to the way you called him a dumbass with that playful grin.

Then there was that one night when Kirishima dragged him to a late-night diner, and there you were—totally unexpected.

But instead of bailing like he usually would, he took a seat next to you in the booth. He picked at his food, captivated by your animated argument with Kirishima about something ridiculously trivial. When you nudged his arm, asking for his take, he found himself responding.

Because he wanted to.

Because you were a blast.

Because, for just a moment, fighting faded into the background.

That’s when things got really complicated.

The real trouble started the moment he stopped denying it.

When he started craving your presence.

When he caught himself stealing glances at you when you thought he wasn’t looking.

When he realized your laughter was now his favorite melody.

And then the late nights came, when he lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what you were up to.

Did you think about him, too?

Oh hell.

He was in deep.

And he had no idea how to navigate this storm brewing inside him.

Bakugo didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him.

Scratch that—he knew.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

For weeks now, he’d been stuck in his own goddamn head, trying—and failing—to pretend that you weren’t the reason his focus was slipping. Every training session, every sparring match, everything just felt… off. It had gotten worse.

Everything about you messed with him.

The way you chewed on your lip when you were thinking, lost in a world that felt miles away. The way your voice softened when you spoke to him, just a little, as if he wasn’t the disaster everybody painted him to be. The way you looked at him—eyes bright and curious—like he was more than just his fists, more than the explosive temper that often burned those around him.

And now? He couldn’t fucking stand it.

Because he wanted you.

Badly.

And it was driving him insane.

“So,” Kirishima said, leaning against the locker room bench, arms crossed with that unnerving spiky smile plastered on his face. “You gonna tell her, or are you just gonna keep making that face forever?”

Bakugo scowled. “What fucking face?”

Kirishima smirked wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “The one you’re making right now. The ‘I’m a grumpy volcano that’s about to erupt’ face.”

With an annoyed grunt, Bakugo yanked off his gloves, throwing them into his locker as if they were the source of all his problems. “I ain’t makin’ a face.”

“Dude.” Kirishima exhaled dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You like her. It’s painfully obvious. You get all weird and broody whenever she’s around.”

Bakugo turned his back, trying to hide the heat blooming in his cheeks. “I ain’t broody.”

Kirishima ignored him, shoving his hands into his pockets with a casual confidence that only aggravated Bakugo further. “And she definitely likes you, too.”

That made him freeze.

His fingers tightened around the straps of his gloves, heart hammering in a way he really didn’t fucking like. The thought of you returning his feelings stirred something inside him—a mix of fear and hope that twisted his stomach into knots.

He forced a scoff, trying to mask the turmoil. “Tch. You don’t know that.”

“Bro, she watches your fights like she’s trying to figure you out. No one stares at someone that much unless they’re either obsessed or in love.”

Bakugo clenched his jaw, irritation bubbling up.

Love.

No.

That wasn’t what this was.

It couldn’t be.

Right?

Kirishima leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I’ve seen the way she lights up when you walk in. When she cheers for you, it’s like she’s rooting for a hero.”

He paused, letting his words settle into Bakugo's mind, each one weighing heavier than the last. “You could have something real, man. But if you just keep pretending it’s nothing—”

Bakugo cut him off, spinning around with a fierce glare. “Shut it! I’m not in the mood for your sappy bullshit!”

Kirishima raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. You can’t keep running away from this. It’s like you want to explode but you’re holding it back. Just tell her how you feel!”

But the thought of putting himself out there, of opening up, felt like a different kind of explosion—one that terrified him. A battle he wasn't sure he could win.

“What if I…?” His voice trailed off, the whisper fragile, almost foreign to him.

“What if you what?” Kirishima pressed, leaning in closer, eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern.

“What if she thinks I’m a total loser?” Bakugo shot back, the words slipping out before he could catch them.

Kirishima chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Dude, she’s been right by your side through everything. Trust me. She sees you. The real you. Not just the angry guy who blows stuff up.”

And in that moment, all Bakugo could do was stare into his friend's earnest eyes, the wheels turning in his mind. He felt the pressure build within him—not just the pressure of his own chaotic thoughts, but a surge of longing that was hard to ignore.

“What if I try?” he muttered, almost to himself.

Kirishima’s face split into a grin. “Now you’re talking! Just think about it. Taking a leap like this can lead to something incredible. And who knows? You might just find that she’s waiting for you to make a move.”

Bakugo took a deep breath, gripping his locker. The thought of finally breaking free from this never-ending cycle of confusion was both terrifying and exhilarating. But deep down, he knew he couldn't keep pretending anymore.

With every passing moment, the desire to grab you by the shoulders and confess everything grew stronger. He would have to face his fears—head-on, just like he did in every fight.

“Alright,” he growled, determination erupting within him. “I’ll do it.”

As Kirishima gave him a confident nod, Bakugo felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that accompanied every fight—but this time, it was for something much more important than just victory. It was for you. The challenge had been accepted, and he was ready to stop being the broody, angry guy everyone expected him to be.

Bakugo would fight for this, and he wouldn't back down. Not now, not ever.

Kirishima nudged him with his foot. “Dude, just confess already. It’s not like she’s gonna reject you.”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair.

Confess?

He wasn’t that guy.

He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t romantic. He didn’t have a way with words.

And what if he messed it up?

What if you looked at him differently?

What if—

Kirishima snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Oi. Stop thinking so damn much.”

Bakugo growled. “I ain’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you ain’t thinking, whatever.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Just tell her.”

Bakugo let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Fine.

Fuck it.

If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it his way.

Finding you wasn’t hard. You were always around the gym, watching his fights, teasing him after sparring sessions, lighting a fire in his chest that he couldn’t quite understand.

And just like always, there you were—sitting on the bench outside the gym, scrolling through your phone, waiting.

Waiting for him.

His stomach tightened at the sight.

He shoved the feeling aside and made his way toward you, stopping just a foot away.

You glanced up, a bright smile breaking across your face. “Oh, hey! Good fight tonight. You didn’t completely destroy the guy in the first round this time. Progress.”

He ignored the jab, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the slight tremor. “Come with me.”

You blinked, surprised. “Uh. Okay?”

You stood, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t argue when he began to walk away—leading you down the dimly lit street. The hum of the city buzzed around, cars thudding in the distance, the faint flickering of a streetlamp overhead matching the anxiety in his chest.

Finally, he stopped near an empty park, hands still deep in his pockets. The air felt electric, charged with anticipation and the weight of everything he was about to say.

You tilted your head, your curiosity making you even more breathtaking. “So… what’s up?”

He exhaled sharply, staring at the ground like it held the answers to all his questions.

Fuck.

Why was this so hard?

He could beat the hell out of seasoned fighters, could take punches that would knock most guys out, could bleed for his dream—but standing here, he felt utterly paralyzed.

His hands curled into fists with frustration.

Then, finally—

“I like you.”

Silence.

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Slowly, you blinked.

“…Wait. What?”

His jaw clenched. “You heard me.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, transforming your face into a canvas of joy. “I think I did. But you might have to say it again.”

His eye twitched. “I swear to god—”

You laughed, the sound like music ringing through the night.

It irritated him and thrilled him all at once, making his heart race faster.

You crossed your arms, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Okay, let’s pretend I didn’t already know that. Why do you like me?”

His stomach flipped, twisting in a whirlwind of nerves.

“Tch. The hell kinda question is that?”

“A very fair one.” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to explain the impossible. “C’mon, Katsuki. If you’re gonna confess, do it right.”

His face burned hotter than a raging flame.

This is a mistake.

Why the hell am I doing this?

But he was already in too deep.

So, fuck it.

He took a tentative step closer.

Then another.

Until you were right there, just inches away, your teasing expression faltering as you realized the gravity of the moment.

His voice dropped lower, rough yet full of depth. “I like you because you don’t take my shit.”

You inhaled sharply, eyes wide with surprise.

“I like you because you don’t look at me like everyone else does.”

Your breath hitched, and he noticed the way your lips parted slightly.

“I like you because you’re in my goddamn head and I can’t get you out.”

Your gaze flickered down to his mouth, and he saw everything shift in your expression, a mix of surprise and something he dared to hope was desire.

And then—

He kissed you.

Hard.

It was a surge of emotion, raw and unrefined. All teeth, heat, and a desperate need, as if the world around them had vanished and there was only you and him in that moment.

This wasn’t some innocent little crush.

This was him breaking.

Breaking down walls that had stood for too long, walls that had been built to keep everyone—and everything—out. But you had found the cracks, slipped through them before he even realized what was happening, and now—now—he was caving.

Your fingers fisted into his shirt, desperate, pulling him closer like you couldn’t get enough. And fuck, that was all the encouragement he needed.

He growled against your lips, something raw and almost dangerous, his hands gripping your waist in a vice, holding you there, pinning you against him like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the goddamn earth.

You gasped, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss—hungry, reckless, all-consuming. It was messy, all teeth and heat and the undeniable, electric pull between you both.

He wasn’t thinking anymore.

He was just feeling.

You tasted like something dangerous. Something he couldn’t get enough of—like a match striking against gasoline, igniting something deep inside him that had been waiting to burn.

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he let out a shaky, almost desperate breath against your mouth.

More.

He needed more.

The feeling of your body against his, the heat of your skin seeping into him, the way your nails raked up his back, sending a sharp shudder through his spine—it was fucking addictive.

He had been starving, and now that he had this, now that he had you, he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to stop.

Your lips moved in sync, perfectly, like you had been waiting just as long for this—like you had wanted him all this time, too.

And when you moaned softly against him, he damn near lost his mind.

His hand slid up your back, pressing against the curve of your spine, holding you impossibly close, swallowing the sound like it was his—because it was.

You were his.

And the realization hit him harder than any punch he had ever taken.

By the time he pulled back, panting, his forehead pressing against yours, he could feel your breath against his lips—shaky, unsteady, just as wrecked as he was.

You looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes dazed, and fuck, he had never seen anything more perfect.

He smirked, but it was different this time—softer, but no less intense.

“Tch. Told you,” he muttered, his voice rough from the weight of everything he had just let go.

You exhaled, blinking up at him, breathless but grinning, and shit, that smile—that goddamn smile—made something inside him snap all over again.

“Okay. Yeah. That was definitely a confession.”

He huffed a laugh, his chest still heaving. “Damn right it was.”

And when you reached up, tracing your fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw, tilting his face back down to yours, he knew—he fucking knew.

There was no going back from this.

The world could go to hell, the entire damn boxing circuit could collapse, and he wouldn’t care.

In that moment, with the stars shining overhead and the world spinning just for them, Bakugo felt something shift inside. No longer just a fighter or a hot-headed boxer—he was yours.

And he wasn’t letting you go.

Mine, he thought, and he knew he was ready to face whatever came next—together.

And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid of wanting.

© sakuraszn! xoxo

art creds: gsony24

a little something to keep yall entertained while I work on my neighbor!chuuya post

CWS: FEM TERMS ARE IMPLIED!!, horny men, uh crack text posts, pls don't take this seriously, use of profanity

SYP : telling bsd men "I want to tickle your pickle" and see how they respond

belongs to @churuai DONT STEAL >:((

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