10:37

[ nsfw ] — no penetration ; oral (f!receiving) ; m!masturbation ; lots of "first time" things and talk ; more virgin bakugou ; angst ; part one

[ wc ] — you know the drill: i'll update this in the morning LOL it's long tho !

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens a towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds. 

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating. 

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is. 

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

More Dad!Bakugou bcs it’s what I need

Your daughter is such a daddy’s girl, her and Katsuki were like two peas in a pod. Every day when he comes home from work she’s always waiting by the door. “Dadda coming?” You giggling “Yes baby, he should be here soon.” As soon as the door opens she’s immediately running to him squealing “Dadda!!!” Katsuki smiles as he squats to her level as she runs to him, he picks her up and kisses her cheek multiple times. “Hi my princess.” “Dadda home!” She squeals again as he wraps her tiny arms around his neck happy her father is home. Even if it’s just him doing something outside she still waits by the door, “Dadda?” “He’s outside bubs.” “Want Dadda.” She says sadly only for her mood to change when she sees her dad walking to the door, he claps her hands and squeals “Dadda!” Katsuki walks inside and swings her around in his arms, “My baby missed me, hm?” “My Dadda.” You smile at their interaction, “I swear she’s like glued to you.” You joke around as Katsuki pulls you into a kiss, “Kiss!” You daughter interrupting you two making you two laugh, “What? You want kisses too princess?” Her toothy smile answering her dads question as he attacks her small face with kisses.

MasterList

Tag-List: @ebiharachan @otomefan @amis-love-bugs @slasherstories123

PART TWO PART TWO PART TWO

The Light In Your Eyes

My fancies are fireflies Specks of living light Twinkling in the dark -Rabindranath Tagore

synopsis. At a party held in Katsuki's honor for winning sports festival (again), — he finds that he doesn't quite mind being caught helping the extra with the annoyingly pretty eyes catch fireflies instead of celebrating, especially when he could see the embers in them reflecting so close to his own.

pairing. bakugou x reader

word count. 1.4k words

genres & warnings. fluff, swearing, aged-up slightly

notes. uhhh a lil fic for what is hopefully my summer comeback. Maybe I'll finally finish those requests for this ol' boys birthday event from like a month ago and work on the pile of drafts that are slowly rotting away in the backrooms of Tumblr - _ -

Full Masterlist!

His eyes flickered down to your soft, glossy lips and snapped away just as quickly, praying that you didn’t notice.

Dimming rays of sunlight weaved through your hair and soaked your skin, making you look ethereal in the soft glow of the sun.

Fuck, you were so fuckin' pretty.

After winning the Sports Festival for the third year in a row, Katsuki’s classmates had insisted that they celebrate by throwing a party at his house in his honor. Despite his protests, the hag and his old man were happy to comply.

He really hadn’t expected that many people to show up, but now it seemed as if the entire school was crammed into his house.

There were adults and students he had never met before in his life, shaking his hand and patting his back in congratulations like old friends. Even icyhot's old man had turned up, — nodding his head and muttering a gruff congratulations. Maybe he was finally pulling that enormous garbage fire from his ass and trying to be a better person.

His classmates from 3-A had invited all their friends from other classes, and their parents had pitched in the effort too. His kitchen counter was overflowing with all sorts of snacks and desserts, and he couldn't go anywhere near the trashcan without someone materializing in front of him to drop something new on his plate.

Most of the adults were crowding the living room inside, jabbering on about the latest controversial tweet by a pro-hero, or exchanging pictures of a newborn baby from a cousin they don’t interact with outside of Facebook.

He scoffed; they might as well start a knitting circle with the amount of gossip they were dishing out.

Many of the students were out in his backyard playing music from speakers the size of his head, all littering the lawn and trampling over the perfectly green and even turf he had spent so much time meticulously growing.

Katsuki on the other hand was surrounded by his all too loud friends who were chatting away about something he couldn’t bother listening to.

The drink in his hands was nearing room temperature the longer he went on to disregard it, he was just much too busy glowering at you.

Your dumb face. On the other side of the room.

You were laughing at something some extra you knew from another class had said. Your head was thrown back, and your shoulders trembled with laughter.

Katsuki’s glare only deepened as he took in the way your hair fell in waves around your face, the long earrings on either side of your face dangling wildly as you shook.

You’ve been here since the party started and hadn’t spared him anything more than an, “Yea, I already knew you y’were gonna beat their asses”, — (which had made his chest flush with pride), — when you first arrived, before running off somewhere with your friends.

Not that he cared. Really, you're just an extra.

No matter if you made his palms get especially sweaty. Or if your skin seemed to glow in the right kind of light. Or if he wants to run his hands through your hair when it flows in the wind when you walk to the train together. Or if he can’t help but stare whenever you're in the same room as him.

Yea, — just an extra.

He pried his eyes off your form and loured into his drink. He grunted when shitty hair nudged him in the shoulder and raised an irritated eyebrow when he gestured wildly with his eyes.

Suddenly you were right in front of him, smiling and saying something he couldn’t hear over the music.

Shit

He scrunched his eyebrows, and you rolled your eyes at him. His eyes widened as you grabbed the sleeve of the button-up he was wearing and pulled him down so you could talk closer to his ear. His vision in line with your collarbone, Katsuki’s ears burned and his breath hitched in his throat.

God, What the hell did you want with him?

“Come help me catch fireflies outside!” You yelled over the noise.

He drew back and fixed you with an exasperated look, trying to stealthily steady the heavy beating of his heart.

“Fireflies?” He questioned. “Why would I help you catch fireflies?”

You rolled your eyes like it was obvious.

"Because there's a bunch of em' out there, and I don't wanna go by myself."

He looked down his nose at you and raised an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed.

"Why don't you go chase some bugs with those friends of yours instead of botherin' me hah?"

After all, you had ditched him for them in the first place.

You pouted and Katsuki resisted the urge to squish your cheeks together in his hands.

"The others are busy with the snacks, or sucking face with each other so they don't wanna come with me."

You looked up at him with such eager and hopeful eyes that he had no choice but to give in. He knew you were probably doing it on purpose too, you knew what you did to him — but he couldn't find it in him to care.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Fine, whatever, let's go nerd."

Katsuki prompted to ignore the delighted look the hag shot him from where she had obviously been listening from the couch, and the teasing glances from his friends.

He pushed past you and your annoyingly bright eyes, and headed for the yard.

He spent what seemed like almost the rest of the party outside, — at least until the sun began setting over the horizon. Casting a warm, comforting orange hue over the them

Occasionally he would point one out to you and you would dash after it to catch it mid flight. Soon you had almost all the kids outside helping you as well.

A handful of highschoolers darted around his yard giggling maniacally, and catching lightning bugs.

His scowl softened over time as he watched you prance around and twirl in your pretty long dress as you chased little flickers of light around like a kid.

You had more than a fist full of the little sparklers when someone called out your name from inside the house.

"Hey! Come help me pack the snacks!"

Katsuki saw you scowl at the interruption and yell back a reply. You spun around until your gaze landed on him and you started making your way towards him.

"What do you want now." He asked when you were right in front of him.

You didn't answer him, — but with the hand not holding the fireflies, you picked up one of his big, scarred hands and cradled it in your much smaller ones.

He watched in surprise, as soft fingers gently pried his hand open, and one by one began placing the small flashing beetles in his palm.

His eyes roamed unabashedly over your face while you worked, — taking in the way your eyebrows scrunched over eyes narrowed in concentration, and the way your lips mouthed numbers as you counted them.

Someone hollered your name from inside again and you threw her head back in annoyance. “I’m coming, give me a minute!”

Looking back, you cupped your hand over his to make sure the fireflies didn't escape and turned your big doe eyes up at him.

His heart stuttered annoyingly at the proximity, and he had to hold himself back from accidentally setting off explosions from his hands.

Surely you were doing this on purpose, Katsuki thought, as he tried not to focus on the way your skin felt on his hands, or the shadow of your lashes, thick with liner when you blinked.

From this close he could count your individual eyelashes and make out the small lights dancing around your irises from the reflections of other lightning bugs glowing around them.

His eyes flickered down to your soft, glossy lips and snapped away just as quickly, praying that you didn’t notice.

Dimming rays of sunlight weaved through your hair and soaked your skin, making you look ethereal in the soft glow of the sun.

Fuck, you were so fuckin' pretty.

“Don’t let them go, ok?” You whispered quickly.

Katsuki’s lips twitched.

You let go of his hand, and he curled his fingers over them to keep the bugs in place. He could feel the little things scurrying around in his palm.

“Be careful with them, and I’ll be right back, alright.” You told him.

He straightened and nodded resolutely.

You beamed blindingly at him, and for a moment, — All Might could have sucker punched him in the face and he wouldn't have noticed.

Turning on your heel, you took off in the direction of the house, your dress swaying around your ankles as you moved.

Deflating, he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he watched your form disappear inside.

Doing a double take, he saw his own mother staring back at him from out the window with a shit-eating grin that much resembled his own. He groaned out loud in annoyance.

She knew.

i’m not sure if anyone would be interested, but i would like to try a tag list for when i post. if you are you can comment on this or message me either would be fine. i just thought you guys follow me to see my work and my posting is inconsistent so it might be good to get notified if you wanted to read it when it came out :)) i check the survey thingy every week or so

Join the Taglist 🏷

users go here, it will make it easier to put onto my works :)

@trafalgar-lau @mybabekatsuki @loving-katsuki @ariavaana @melaniebakugo @keyz-writes @kuleo26 @sirensuki @theweasleysrule @asmaechan @empress137 @emiliaserpe

Could you please well if you don't want to that's fine but could you make a bakugo x y/n 18+ y/n getin prego🤐 i sound so sus but idc

masterlist

Bkg x fem!reader

cw: breeding, unprotected sex, mdni

short & unedited. im sorry

request thirsts in my inbox :) 📬

“does it feel good sweet girl?” his words matching the sweet sensation of his thrusts. every one sending your head into a frenzy.

“Cmon baby tell your suki how good it feels.” hot hands running down your body covered in a layer of sweat. The pair of you have been at it for hours, ever since you visited kirishima’s new baby it’s all you could think about. As you walked through the front door Katsuki’s hands were on you in a second.

“S-so good, S-ugh yes right there!” his thrusts slow for a moment as bakugou watches your eyes glisten over with tears. He gives one slow deep push into that special spot “here? you like it right here pretty girl?” one more thrust.

“Uh huh please suki please faster!” you whimper as your hips thrust on their own beneath him. he picks up speed, relishing in the feeling of your tight cunt getting even tighter, and soon he becomes close himself.

“Please inside suki wan a baby! wan make you a daddy-oh!” one final push and he was a goner, spilling his hot seed in your gummy walls with a moan of your name.

“whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

tags 🏷: @trafalgar-lau @mybabekatsuki @loving-katsuki @ariavaana @melaniebakugo @keyz-writes @kuleo26 @sirensuki @theweasleysrule @asmaechan

amelia my love! I have a request, so I’m going to travel to visit family in Mexico soon. So I was wondering if you could write some headcanons for me. I have really bad flight anxiety and i have to drink some heavy anxiety meds that make me all woozy. So can you write on how bakugou would comfort his gf who is very anxious about flying. thank you sm I’m advance :) !!!

sending you lots of love and hugs lovely <3

i love you smooch smooch <3

I had to look up symptoms of anxiety (bc i’m not sure if i have it or not) but i really hope i did this right

Girlfriend that’s anxious about flying

masterlist

bakugou x fem!reader

He would try to make you as calm as possible the days leading up to your flight, trying to get you to cuddle with him, have you watch movies to take your mind off of it, make your favorite meals.

Your man bkg is riiich rich so you already know he has that private plane so that you didn’t have to sit next to insufferable strangers while you were already having a hard time.

Holds your hand the entire way. He just wants you to know that he’s there with you and as long as that’s the case you’re safe.

He will notice you start to get jittery before the plane takes off, bouncing your leg up and down frantically, and he will nest his hand on your thigh to gently get you to stop while whispering how “you’re doin so good, pretty. so good”

Once you seem to be scatterbrained he will take the liberty to let you pick out a movie, any movie you want to watch and he’ll watch it while holding you.

Once your movie is over however you are immediately reminded of your current situation but your so tired. And he sees your eyes fluttering then jolting back open desperately trying to not fall asleep. So he will tell you stories to make your mind feel at ease so you can finally get some shut eye

Makes sure that you’re drinking water and eating your food. He prepacked your favorite snacks for you to munch on because he’ll be damned if your anxious and hungry.

His poor girl just wants to get there already so she can get off this damn plane :( he’s never wanted to kill an inanimate object more than at this moment.

When the plane has some turbulence you’re practically shaking in his hold as you bury your head in his chest trying to make the bad thoughts go away. “‘S okay sweets, just a bit of turbulence we’re gonna be fine. Happens on all flights. Okay?” to which you nod your head still clutching onto his shirt.

When you start to feel nauseous he will personally escort you to the bathroom and just be there with you in case you do throw up. (he is NOT letting you throw up in one of those barf bags they give you. yuck.)

Overall he is very good at taking care of you when you get like this because it’s apart of his boyfriendly duties 😤 and he just wants the best for his pretty girl.

TAGS 🏷:

@trafalgar-lau @mybabekatsuki @loving-katsuki @ariavaana @melaniebakugo

I love making the first move and then it going over their heads😀

everyone manifest that he answers 😁

hii!! i just found ur blog (rlly cute theme btw) and I wanted to submit a fluff or smut (or both idk) letter w bakugo please

hope u have a good day or night and remember to rest ☺️

@esloao requests: could you do both letters involving bakugo when he miss reader while they're separated?

A/N: you won’t even believe it (because I don’t even believe it) but this is my first smut that I’ve ever written LMAO.

INCLUDES: PRO-HERO BAKUGO X fem CIVILIAN READER

WARNINGS: vulgar language, smut, fluff

FLUFF! WHEN PRO-HERO BAKUGO AND YOU ARE SEPARATED it feels as if all odds are against you. The days pass, each one longer than the other. You felt as if another part of you was missing from your soul, and the rest of you was functioning on autopilot— no one told you how hard it is to date a pro-hero…

Let alone that pro-hero being the #2 ranked hero in the country.

Depending on the urgency of the mission, Bakugo would regularly call you. Around two-three times a day. One in the morning, one at work, and one at night.

Your co-workers would see how you beamed at your phone when the call log showed your boyfriends name. A light squeal would slip from your mouth as your scurry away from your post to answer the phone call.

Most of the phone conversations would consist of your boyfriend asking you if you slept/ate well. And if you haven’t done any of those things he’ll cuss you out immediately.

Or when you’d tell him how your day was, telling him how stressful work was. He’d tell you you get some rest…knowing you won’t but it’s the thought that counts.

Sometimes, most of the phones calls are of you just being nosy— you regularly ask your boyfriend what he’s doing for his mission, regardless of how “top secret” the mission was supposed to be.

“What? So you go to the area to find no hostages and it was all a false call?” You say, confused and irritated at the news your partner tells you.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe the top agency, left my girl all alone at home for a week! Just for this bullshit,” your boyfriend snarled. You become warm at his sweet undertone of words.

“I mean- this is a high school level scenario, I swear we must be getting punked–“

“Does this mean you’re coming home early?” You coo. This makes Bakugo chuckle on the other line.

“Yes baby, hold your horses I’ll be there later.”

SMUT! WHEN PRO-HERO BAKUGO AND YOU ARE SEPARATED things can get a little carried away when you finally see each other again.

You sit on the couch, waiting impatiently, staring— burning holes into the front door of your shared home. You missed him so much, you needed him so bad.

Not to get sentimental, but everyday you spend with him feels like your last. Dating a pro-hero takes mental strength. Knowing that the person you wake up next to might not make it to kiss you goodnight is heart breaking to think about.

It was a harsh ideology to accept, and you still haven’t accepted it.

So every time you hear those keys jingle, and every time you watch that door open to see your loving boyfriends amber eyes shoot around the room to be met with yours. You immediately jump at him, holding onto hip like if you looked away for one mere second he’d disappear.

And every. single. time. your boyfriend comes home, this leads to the best sex you’ve ever had.

Legs hitched behind your head as your loving boyfriend pounds into you, each thrust burning so lustfully.

Sweat dripping from his forehead and onto yours, your loud breathy moans and his heavy grunts filled the room like a thick fog.

There was no time for words, only action.

His eyes looked into yours, staring into your tear glazed eyes and through to your soul. His hands clawed onto the back of your thighs, deep moans with each thrust.

Your arms shakily wrapped around his neck, nails digging deep into his scalp as you loudly moan, sloppily thrusting your hips forward for more pleasure.

“Y’missed me baby?” He growled, the loud slaps of your skin against his acts as beats of silence, which only makes you shiver.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered, licking your dry lips you try your best you look at him, but your eyes roll back and shut as you let out another wanton moan.

“You missed taking my dick didn’t ya?” Bakugo leans down, applying more pressure to your legs. Now his hard thrusts slow into his pelvis slowly rolling into your wetness.

Your eyes shoot open, you squeal as your boyfriend hits those bundles of nerves he knew he needed to hit. Letting out a gasp, you arms shoot from his neck and start to crawl at his back.

“Mhm!” You shake your head rapidly, as all you hear is the heavy breathing between the two of you.

“Mm thought so” Bakugo growls in your ear. Your boyfriend continues to rolls his hips, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

“Y-y’know, every fuckin time I leave here…all I think about is you and my pussy” He says.

My?

The simple word that left his mouth makes you clench so hard— it makes the both of you breathless, you hear your boyfriend let out a loud moan.

“Shit, you like that? You like your pussy only belonging to me, honey?” He moans, you couldn’t even speak anymore.

“You like knowing that this is my pussy and only mines? You love how I make my pussy feel s’good?” He growls in your ear, he stops his grinding only to reposition himself. Growling, he slowly pulls out—soon slamming his length back in.

This makes you scream out.

“Katsuki!” Tears streaming down your face, the makeup you put on today melting off with ease.

Now, every thrust was rough with no intention of stopping.

“Fuck, Y/n!” He whimpers, head touching yours as he sloppily peppers kisses all over your face.

“Katsuki I’m gonna f’kin…cum,” eyes rolling back as your head slams onto the soft pillow.

“Yeah? Your gonna cum using your dick?” He whispers, eyes rolling back as he nears his end as well.

“Yes, I’m gonna cum using my dick” you moan out. Bakugo let’s out a half-chuckle, reaching down to caress your face with his warm hands. He places a warm, soft kiss on your lips.

Looking at his face, you notice that he was teary eyed as well. The eyeliner he used for his hero work smears as tears trickle down his cheeks.

“I love y-you,” Bakugo breathes out. This makes your breath hitch.

Bakugo is the type to rarely say those three words. He doesn’t take these words lightly. So you knew that when he meant it, he meant it.

“I love you too, Katsuki” you whimper giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Soon taking a hand from his back to caress his face.

You knew that you saying his first name was his weak spot. As you could tell the way his hips stuttered and his eyes slowly roll back in ecstasy.

“I’m cummin, fuck!”

Bakugo soon thrusts at a lethal pace, the only sound in the room was the slapping of your skin. As the both of you reach climax, orgasming hard and silent.

Time goes by as Bakugo collapses on top of you, bodies rising and falling as the only sounds are the pace of your slow breaths. You hold on tight to Bakugo, tears still streaming down your face as you revel in the moment.

You missed Katsuki, and he missed you too.

RRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! FIRST SMUT EVER LETS GO

I hope you liked this, I’m sorry if it’s cringey but I thought I did good, please let me know how I did or this will loom over my existence for the rest of my life :)

— lovelyiida ❤︎︎