I Don’t Want To Be A Virgin Anymore😮

Take You For Granted Masterpost

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

status: in progress

summary: 

Out of sight, out of mind. Is what you always reminded yourself after you moved away from home. No longer under the watchful eye of your childhood bully, and free to live your life the way you wanted. A semi-successful career, monthly get-togethers with the girls from college. Free to date any and every man that walked into your line of sight.

Until you find yourself in the predatory gaze of a stalker, hungry for anything you have to offer.

Now your childhood bully is in charge of protecting you from a danger you never saw coming. Pro hero or not, the last thing you want or need is Katsuki Bakugou back in your life. Forcing you to come to terms with the fact neither of you knew how to handle your feelings, even as adults.

warnings: overall warnings for series.

Mutual Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, forced Bonding, Bodyguard type Romance, Blood and Violence, Drinking & Talking, Home Improvement, Bonding, Manhandling, Roughhousing, Rough Kissing, Forced Eye Contact, Mutual Masturbation, Pet Names, Bullying, Sharing a Bed, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Anal Play, Daddy Kink, Light BDSM, Domestic Fluff, Childhood Friends, Flashbacks, Idiots in Love, Sexual Tension, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dirty Talk, breath play, Breeding Kink, Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Smut

Chapter links

Ch.1

Ch.2-TBD

Ch.3-TBD

Ch.4-TBD

Ch.5?-TBD

Just thinking about Virgin Bakugou who has absolutely no idea what the hell he’s looking at when he sees you for the first time.

Yeah, he’s watched porn and he essentially knows what a pussy looks like, but it’s a completely surreal experience seeing it wet and dripping right in front of him.

Especially knowing it’s connected to you.

He silently loves the fact that you’re directing him through how to pleasure you. He was ready to argue, but the thought of being bad or even hurting you started to override his superiority complex of knowing and being amazing at everything.

You tell him to lay between your spread legs, how to touch you, where. You spread your own puffy lips, pink opening glistening with your arousal as he just moans at the sight, grinds his rapidly filling cock against the mattress.

He dives in before you give him proper instructions, just starts lapping at your entrance, sucking up the rolls of slick that drops between your cheeks. He practically sucks the dampened sheets underneath your ass in between desperate lips, eyes rolling in the back of his head at your sweet taste.

He just laps at your opening for a while before you tug his soft, spiky hair tight in your fingers. You’re trying to be gentle about guiding him, but he’s just taking what he wants.

He needs to listen.

So you pull your lips back further with one hand, legs spreading even wider so he could get an even clearer view of your fluttering hole that’s slick with your juices and his spit. You use your index finger to roll slightly over you clit as you force his head to become eye level with it.

“Lick her. Pay attention to her. Give her a kiss, just focus on her. Okay, handsome?”

You try to use your sweetest voice, which actually works. Bakugou moans, nodding his head as much as he can in your grip. He lowers his head, still keeping eye contact as he gives your clit the softest little kiss. When your eyes flutter, a breathy moan slipping through your lips, is when he realizes he’s doing everything right.

He goes about it viciously the more you moan, the more your hips shake, the harder your grip gets in his hair, the harder you buck your trembling cunt against his open and pliant mouth. He knows his cock is leaking like a faucet on the bedsheet with the way he’s grinding and humping it, like some feral dog.

“Good boy,” you praise through a whine. “Good f-fucking boy, Katsuki. You listen s’good, handsome.” You’re slurring, one hand pinching your nipple while the other shoved Bakugou even further between your thighs. You’re warming his ears at this point, heels digging into his strong back as you never let him come up for air. He doesn’t act like he needs it anyway, not with the way he greedily gulps your juices and inhales your scent with a shuddering moan.

“Just put a finger inside—ah! Just like th-that! Fuck I’m gonna—” Bakugou listens immediately, shoving not one, but two thick fingers inside of your sopping wet heat. He pumps his fingers twice, one more time with a curl and you’re bursting all over his face.

Your release is messy, prolonged as he continues sucking on your clit lazily, trying to help you come down from your high. After you push softly at his head, he’s pulling away and sitting up on heels.

Bakugou is panting, his cock drooling an obscene amount of precum as he grips his base to keep from coming too early. He looks desperate, cheeks red, eyes low, his bottom lip bitten harshly between white teeth. He waits for further instruction like the good boy he wants you to call him.

“Now fuck me with this fat cock like a good boy, before I fucking take it.” You can’t help but growl. He just looks so good like this, all desperate, his cock hanging heavily between thick muscled thighs you want to crush you, hanging onto your every word and whisper. He whimpers, fucking whimpers, body shivering as he grips himself harder to keep from coming. You can feel your eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Oh? You like that? Like the thought of being used as my human dildo?” You tease, leaning forward to grip his pulsing cock between your hands, batting his own away. He nods, mouth dropping open to let a quiet groan as you pump him quickly, building him up until he’s close to coming. You let go when he starts to fuck into your hand, when his balls start tightening up closer to his body, when his tongue starts to slowly loll out of his mouth.

He releases a frustrated grunt, red eyes glowering down at you as he pouts. You can’t help but laugh, bringing your hand to your mouth to lick away the precum that has made your hand sticky, keeping eye contact the entire time. You crook a finger to him, and he follows, almost in a daze.

Grabbing his cock again, you position it at your wet entrance, rubbing the tip against you, slapping it down onto your clit wetly. After getting the choked gasp and whine you wanted, you lay back, wrap your legs around his tiny waist and smirk.

“Better not come too fast, or else I’ll really use you like a human fucking dildo. Get to work, handsome.” And he does.

Just thinking about Virgin Bakugou.

saw your “I’m gonna retire from writing post”, and while that’s definitely a lol mood I do hope you’re okay. Your writing has been really fun to read and enjoy, so I hope you have the same joy I get while you rest from it. Best wishes

thank you 💜💜

6:05

Fluff

"My question is for Dynamight. Umm are you-are you single?"

"Ohhhh, what an excellent question." The moderator cooed. You tried to not glare at her, but fuck...this was the same reporter that was always trying to squeeze up against Dynamight during interviews. Did they have to choose her for this fucking thing? She'd already basically thrown herself at him back stage.

"It's not. How would I have time for anything other than savin' you idiots?"

You heard a soft voice on the other side of him. Probably Deku telling him to be nicer.

"Oh my, well that doesn't sound like a taken man to me. And that is actually a fantastic segue to our first question for all of our heroes. 'What is your type?' Let's just go down the line, shall we?" She headed over to the other end of the platform.

"Umm...my type of what?" There was some mumbling off the microphones.

"Oh, I see. Umm, I suppose someone who is kind and likes cold soba and is...not afraid of fire?"

"Uh huh. Well, that is so you. Next! Although I'm sure we alllll know what the answers will be for these next two."

"Oh, well my type would have to be someone who works hard at everything they do and never gives up no matter what."

"So sweet. And you, Deku?"

"Well, my type is Uravity?" The audience laughed.

"Fair enough, you two are the only couple on our panel today."

"Now how about you, handsome?" Ughhh, did her voice have to throb like that?

"That's the best question you could come up with?? Embarrassing."

"But we're dying to know...aren't we, everyone?" The loudest shouts sounded from the splashes of orange in the crowd. He huffed before speaking into his mic.

"My type will be the fucking best because she's with the fucking best."

"I'm sure you could be more specific, Dynamight. Don't you think so?" The crowd roared. He crossed his arms and glared at them, but the screams only got louder. His fans really did love him just the way he was. You giggled and he shifted his gaze to you for a moment before glaring at the audience again.

"Fuckin' hell, you extras...she talks shit, kicks my ass when she can, and she's cute as hell. Happy?"

"Oh? Maybe you'll find her here tonight." She winked at him and you tried to remind yourself that you were a hero not a villain.

"Now, last we have-"

Fuck it. You yanked your mask down, grabbed Dynamight by the ridiculously low v-neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He responded instantly, working his gloved hand through your hair. He groaned and pushed his tongue into your mouth. The crowd lost it. You pushed him back just as quickly as you'd grabbed him and settled back into your seat. The moderator was blushing and finally seemed to have learned how to leave Dynamight alone. You gave the crowd a chance to quiet down. You pulled your mask up and your mic closer before speaking into it as sweetly as you could.

"I think it's time for a new question."

The moderator nodded and seemed happy enough to turn her attention back to Shoto. Katsuki covered your mic and leaned over to growl in your ear.

"Remind me. Who's idea was it to not go public?" You placed a hand on his forehead and nudged him away.

"Oh shut up, 'handsome'. She pissed me off." You crossed your arms and looked out at the crowd.

He chuckled and you felt your seat sliding towards him. He released the chair leg when you were close enough for him to drape an arm around your shoulders. You felt his breath on your skin.

"Cute as hell." He kissed your neck and left you blushing beneath your mask as he turned to answer the next question.

Masterlist

BAKUGOU x FEM!READER

♫ ⏯︎ Innerbloom (What So Not Remix) - RÜFÜS DU SOUL

☆IT’S A PARTY! REQUEST EVENT | MASTERLIST

BAKUGOU (BNHA) x WORK PARTY ☆NYE EDITION☆

REQUESTED BY ☆ @i-hate-your-guts-babydoll

LENGTH ☆ 3.2k

CONTAINS ☆ NSFW! Fuck buddy Bkg, mutual pining, office sex, creampie, alcohol mention, dubcon (alcohol), a single ass smack, fingering, light degradation, use of “slut” and “brat”, slightly rough sex into more meaningful sex, bkg puts his hand over your mouth to shut you up lol, it gets hot and heavy (and sappy) at the end, reader and bkg are both idiots who are bad at feelings (:

AN ☆ Happy New Year’s! Let’s pretend I didn’t finish this a week after actual NYE lol. Katsuki held me hostage and made me write him just a little softer — it was completely against my will and not indicative at all of how much I really do love him. Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this request and I hope you enjoy! <3

“If you want me, if you need me, I’m yours…”

You don’t really like fireworks.

That’s what you’re thinking to yourself as you lean against the side of the building, head tilted upwards. Soon the sky above will be filled with sparks of color, faraway specks of firelight that burst and dance through the air before making their descent down to earth. But for now, there is only darkness; There are no stars in the vast ocean of black, every little twinkling light chased away by the cruel brilliance of the city. You miss the stars, but you much prefer the empty sky to one filled with fireworks. You’re savoring the silence for now — well, the closest thing you can get to silence in the city on a night like this. 

Milky white wisps and curls around your face as you take another drag of your cigarette, cherry tip sizzling in agreeance. Excited squeals and boisterous laughter leaks out from the office building behind you, a reminder of the work party you’re trying to escape for a moment. The smoke in your lungs blows out on a long sigh. 

New Year’s is not your favorite holiday. It’s not even your second favorite, or your third. You’d hardly even count it as a “holiday” in your mind. Really, it’s more of a marker, a white line painted on the cement that somehow signals both the finish and the start all at once. Feet step over the thick strip of paint and cheers ripple through the air – and then you blink, and the pop of a gun startles you. You’ve finished the race, made it through the year, but the race simply begins again. And in that maddening loop you are forever caught. Forever running the same circular stretch of pavement. Over and over, year after year. 

And the waving flag just up ahead also reminds you of all of the loose ends you’ve left to flutter in the wind behind you. Some have called you cynical, many have called you negative, but the truth of the matter is that you don’t really see New Year’s as sweet opportunity. The New Year is sour, stale. Another year, another rotting pile of the unfinished, the unfulfilled, the unanswered. 

And then one of those unanswered questions saunters right out into the courtyard with you, heavy footsteps reverberating in the night.

“Y’really shouldn’t smoke those.” The voice is deep, gruff. From that, and the annoyed click of his tongue when you take another drag, you know exactly who it is. 

“Oh really?” You look down at the cigarette between your fingers, and feel a warm body settle in next to you. “Why’s that?”

“‘s’bad for yer health.”

You swivel your head, eyes finding your nag. Sharp features, piercing crimson, and ash blonde hair that, despite the clean-cut dress shirt and slacks he’s wearing, is still undeniably wild. 

“So is picking fights with violent criminals,” you quip, tilting your face up towards his defiantly, “but you don’t see me telling you how to live your life.”

Amusement spreads slowly across his face, a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. He turns his head and snorts a small laugh, trying his best not to give you the satisfaction. Noticing the pink dusting his cheeks and the drink in his hand, you realize — he’s drunk. It’s a rare occasion to see Dynamight drunk.

Dynamight is the most successful sidekick at the agency. Fresh out of college, he’s made a name for himself quickly. As the agency’s head dispatcher, you work closely with the team of sidekicks, serving as their coordinator and reliable point of contact when they’re out in the field. Surprisingly to many, you and Dynamight work well together. He’s a hard worker and a quick thinker, which makes your job easier. And you have thick skin and a sharp tongue, which comes in handy when dealing with him. Ultimately, a mutual respect had eventually settled between you. 

Among other things.

Flicking the butt of the cigarette to the floor, you extend your foot to stamp it out under your heel. You can feel his eyes on you, his gaze always so damn heavy.

“I like that dress,” he tells you, tipping his glass to his lips, regarding you over the edge of it.

“I’d offer to let you borrow it,” a small smile to accompany the playful lilt in your voice, “but I don’t really think it’s your color.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop bein’ a smartass, you know what I mean.”

Turning to him, you cross your arms loosely over your chest. This is your favorite game to play with him, especially when he’s in a good mood — like after a successful capture, or when alcohol has loosened his usually tight demeanor.

“I don’t think I do know what you mean.”

He pushes himself off the wall and is in your space in a moment, eyes narrowing, a smirk on his lips. “I like that dress on you,” he says, a low growl that makes your heart flutter in your throat, “But I think I’d like it better on the floor. Or ripped to shreds. I’ll let you choose how I take it off you, just this once.”

“Mighty generous of you, Dynamight.”

A sneer, and his eyes bounce down below your nose. “Keep up that little attitude and I’ll ruin more than just your dress.”

The unanswered question that hangs heaviest between you was born from the fact that you and Bakugou have been regularly hooking up for four months now, and you haven’t the faintest idea what the fuck he really wants from you. 

It had started a lot like this – a night warmed by alcohol and a budding sexual tension. You had been surprised when your coworkers told you Bakugou would be tagging along to happy hour after work, and you were even more surprised when he’d drunkenly insisted on walking you home after. (“‘s’not safe,” he’d drawled, hands stuffed stiffly in his pockets.) A slightly awkward kiss in front of your door had turned into many heated kisses through the doorway, and down the hall, and into your bedroom, and tangled in each other until the sun peeked through your curtains.

But he was gone when you woke up. The only evidence that he had been there at all was a plate of food set neatly on the counter with a scrawled note that told you to “go buy some real groceries”. When you next saw him in the office, it was like nothing had happened. He strapped on his hero uniform, and you perched yourself in front of your web of monitors, and neither of you even so much as stole a knowing glance. But when his voice crackled through your headset, deep and rough and spitting curses, you could feel the heat simmer beneath your skin. What you didn’t know was that he felt the same – until he confronted you weeks later at another office outing about ‘avoiding him’. He fucked you hard in an alleyway near the bar that night, a leg hiked up roughly around his hip after you both realized you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other long enough to make it to your apartment. 

The hookups became regular after that, the flirting more brazen. But the nature of your relationship remained a mystery. One that became more and more perplexing with each note left on your counter, each lunch that appeared on your desk, each cigarette snatched from your grasp and stomped into the pavement.

Those questions itch at the back of your neck but, when Bakugou brings his lips closer to your ear, the warmth of his breath and the rumble of his voice always has a way of soothing them. “The conference room is unlocked. Go in there and wait for me.” 

And when he has you turned around with your hands braced against the long conference desk, his chest pressed to your back and his hard cock rubbing against the curve of your ass, any doubts that may have plagued your mind suddenly fizzle out completely. Each kiss sucked into your neck, each curse breathed into your hair, each spark of frustration squeezed into your hips – it all empties your mind of any logical thoughts and leaves behind nothing but a burning stretch of need.

His palms are rough but his touch is tender as he feels you, explores your dips and swells with equal parts care and hunger. It’s like they can’t choose a spot to settle on, running over your arms, kneading at your tits, digging into your waist. You push back into him, reveling in the feel of his thick cock trapped between your body and his. And his hands finally find purpose, one coaxing your face to turn and meet with his for a sloppy kiss, the other snaking under the hem of your dress to grip at the fat of your ass. 

“I like this dress,” he breathes against your mouth.

You chuckle, “You told me that already.”

“Well I’m tellin’ ya again,” he grumbles, “fuckin’ brat.”

He grips your hip hard, forcing you to grind back on him. You peer at him over your shoulder, rolling your hips against him, grinding harder, and watch his lids droop and his jaw slacken at the pressure. There’s an inky darkness cast over the empty conference room, but the glitter of the city is spilling through the high windows just so, highlighting the mist of lust in his eyes. 

He’s perfectly disheveled in his formal attire, suit jacket abandoned, sleeves rolled up on his muscular forearms, tie loosened and slightly askew. It makes your chest ache to see him like this, makes something bubble up in you that you’re inclined to swallow back down. And you think you see something on his face that mirrors your thoughts, something in the way his gaze softens when he’s looking you over in the dim light. 

You gasp when you feel his fingers against your clothed pussy, and he snickers, a cocky expression back on his face in an instant. “You’re soaked already,” he notes with a laugh, “I can feel it through your panties.”

Matching his energy, you reach back to palm at his cock through his slacks, smiling when you hear his sharp inhale. “You gonna keep talking shit all night, or are you gonna fuck me?”

The heavy weight of his hand between your shoulder blades forces you down, bending you over the desk until your chest is smooshed against the cold surface. He yanks your dress up, pushing the slinky fabric until it’s gathered around your waist, exposing your ass to the cool air. Blunt nails dig into your flesh, then a harsh swat to your cheek makes you yelp and snicker.

He’s grumbling under his breath as he fiddles with his zipper, complaining about your smart fuckin’ mouth and telling you how he’ll shut you the fuck up. You peek back and bite down on your lip when you catch a glimpse of his cock being pulled through the open zipper of his slacks, so hard that a vein bulges along the side and a glistening bead of pre drips from the tip. 

And then his finger is hooking under the thin fabric of your thong, knuckle brushing against your pussy as he pulls it to the side. An anticipatory shiver rolls down your spine as you watch his neck crane down, and then you feel a warm drop of spit hit the tight ring of your ass. It drips through your folds, until two fingers catch it at your clit, running back up and gathering wetness to push back into your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he says as he works his fingers into you, a domineering hand on your back keeping you bent over the desk, “This how wet you get thinkin’ about me railing you in the middle of the office?”

His fingers curl into you, the pad of his thumb coming to rub at your clit, and your back arches, a whine escaping you. “Got nothin’ to say now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, shooting a glare back at him. “Bakugou, if you don’t just fuck me already I swear to—“

His hand clasps firmly around your mouth, fingers digging into your cheeks as he turns your face forward. The tie around his neck tickles at your back when he arches his hulking form over you. 

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” His growl sends a shiver down your spine, and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he continues, “Or else the whole office is gonna hear what a slut you are for me.”

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt to grasp his cock at the base. He swipes it along your folds, gets the head coated in your juices. You’re holding your breath, feeling the familiar push of his tip against your entrance, and then he’s finally sinking into you, groaning along with your muffled exhale. 

He fucks you hard and deep, pulling on your hip to force you back and meet his sharp thrusts. The moans he punches out of you are caught in the shell of his palm, your muted cries and snorts of breath sounding downright animalistic mixed with his grunts of pleasure. It’s so good, the way he’s manhandling you, the way his cock drills into you, the way his hand feels hot and dominant wrapped around your face – you can feel your core tightening, ready to burst and spill all over him.

But then you hear excited yells coming from down the hall, and your eyes widen. 

Your hand slaps frantically against his arm, and he quickly releases you, hips stalling as his mouth opens to ask if he’d hurt you. 

“They’re about to start the countdown!” You exclaim, breathless.

A pause. “So?”

“So…” The end of your thought hangs heavy between you. 

Why does that matter to you suddenly? You don’t even care for New Year’s, would go so far as to say you dislike it. So why does the symbolism of counting down the hour suddenly feel so important to you?

Bakugou is perceptive, and the answer comes to him before it does you.

“What, ya worried about a New Year’s kiss? I’m literally fucking you in the office, I think we’re a little further along than that.” 

He snorts, expecting you to find the thought funny. But you don’t laugh. Crimson bores into the back of your head, willing his gaze to penetrate and unveil what you’re thinking. He takes a deep breath, and then softens a bit.

“Fine, c’mere.” 

And then you’re being whipped around to face him. Fingers splay across the base of your neck, his hand strong and sure as it cradles you there, and he steps forward into you until the backs of your thighs are pressed against the side of the desk. His other hand helps you settle yourself on top of the surface, and then he’s slotted between your thighs, sticky cock resting against your mound. Your noses nestle together, so close his warm breath ghosts against your mouth when he parts his lips to speak. 

“Three…” He murmurs against your mouth, joining the raucous counting just outside the door. His voice vibrates your lips, and when his tongue flicks out to wet his own you feel it graze you. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, can practically taste it. 

“Two…” Your gaze flits up from his mouth, and you find that deep carmine is already waiting there for you. Burning hot, piercing right into you like a blade from a fire. His hand slips to the small of your back, pressing you even closer against him, and your bodies mold together like well warmed clay.

“One…” And as the world erupts around you, his lips find their place pressed against yours. It’s soft, but full of an intensity that rings so much louder than the cheers that bleed through the walls. The boom of a firework echoes through the city, then another, but you don’t notice. Everything around you is muffled, the celebration light years away. In your world it’s almost silent – save for the soft sounds you swap between you, and the deafening beat of your heart.

You kiss again, and again, lips and tongues chasing after each other in a rhythmic dance. It’s different, the way you’re clinging to each other and losing yourselves on each other’s breath. The change is palpable, the tension so thick that it seems to dunk you both beneath it until you’re gasping for air. The question is there again, but this time it’s more than just an itch, not something you can swallow down. It’s trembling, shooting up towards the heavens, on the verge of bursting into a million flaming pieces. 

In the heat of it all, you find yourself angling yourself on the edge of the desk, him grabbing hold of his cock to line it back up with your entrance. He presses forward, sinking into you again with a sigh that you eagerly swallow. He fucks you deeply, kisses you deeply, never fully leaving you as he rocks into you and tangles his mouth with yours over and over again. 

There’s no room for words between you, no air to form them with, until your head finally falls back and your legs wrap themselves around his hips. Only then does he press his forehead to yours, holding you firmly by the back of your neck, and speaks to you with a hungry rasp you’ve never heard before. 

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he tells you, brows knitted together, pupils bleeding into the deep sea of red, “Look so fuckin’ gorgeous tonight – fuck, I wanna see you cum – ngh-need you to cum with me.”

He’s not fucking you hard, or fast, but he’s massaging into you with a different kind of intensity, carving a meaningful space for himself inside of you that your body welcomes with equal parts desperation and passion. The heat of it all is so strong, so bright, that it ignites you in an instant. Your orgasm rips through you, separates every tiny piece of you and sets it ablaze. Bakugou holds you tightly against him the whole time, head damp where it’s connected to yours, talking you through it in a pleading voice, “So fuckin’ gorgeous — god, look at me, keep your eyes on me, baby fuck gonna cum with you, gonna—“

And then his hips stutter, and he’s spilling over inside you, panting and swearing as he follows you over the edge. He unloads himself completely into you, and a heady warmth radiates deep in your gut as you both breathe deep, ragged breaths together. 

The pop of a firework startles you both, and your heads turn together just as a supernova of color fills the darkness. It dances across your face and glitters in your eyes, and you don’t notice the way Bakugou watches you, don’t see the way you’ve eclipsed everything else in sight. 

“Y’know, I didn’t think I liked fireworks, but now I’m not so sure,” you hum thoughtfully as you watch another pretty one explode in the distance. And Bakugou laughs, small and dry. Because he’s always been sure. He’s always loved fireworks.

I need everyone to message me how they’re doing right now 😡

wanna make sure everyone is okay :)

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 🏷

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i want a car

posting about how sad i am on here bc no one knows me irl>>

baby, you’re tiny | k.bakugou.

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 2.3K

⇝ rating: mature, 18+.

⇝ genre: first time!au, smut.

⇝ summary: there were many things katsuki loved about his girlfriend, the main being how tiny she was compared to him; more specifically, how tiny she looked when they were in the bedroom.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to 18 ), size!kink, protected sex, fingering ( female recieving ), virginity loss, sub!reader + dom!bakugou,spitting?? y’all idk its just smut ok!! katsuki is soft <33

⇝ author’s note(s): hello hello hello!! it’s been a while since i posted my lastr request so i hope you enjoy this!! this was a request by anon, apologies for the delay. also :( my blog has grown so much so i want to thank you all for 1K, ilysm <3

⇝ masterlist | requests

you were tiny.

and if there was one thing katsuki bakugou loved most about you, his girlfriend, his how tiny you were.

at least compared to him.

most of class A had been shocked when you started dating at the start of second year; since in first year, all katsuki had done was pick on you for your height ( or lack thereof ) and nag you for your quirk— lullaby hadn’t been quite so powerful back then. but your fondness for him grew that summer, having spent time with he and eijirou over the break.

bakugou was sweet when he wanted to be, soft and attentive to you and you only. his teasing gradually let up, turning into sweet gestures or whispered praises and then finally stolen kisses under the night sky.

that’s what lead you both to date, in the end; but everyone supported you nonetheless. it was quite funny to see the great katsuki bakugou help fix your uniform in the morning or make you breakfast in the dorms and even if he yelled at the others for mentioning it— he loved the weight of your barely-there palm in his and the way you pouted up him with faux anger when he rested his elbow on your head.

you were short enough for him to tower over you and twirl you in his arms, small enough to look like you drowning in his hoodies that he gave you. even if he stopped mocking you for your height, over a year ago— even now, in your third year he still loved it.

you were so tiny and he loved it.

he especially loved the way you looked under him right now.

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