stargirlygirl

Latest Posts by stargirlygirl

spider monkey

hanta sero x fem!reader⋆｡°✩— college!au (still have quirks), hanta wants to recreate the iconic spiderman kiss with you, fluff, 1.6k words

a/n: for you @bloomstream

With a jangle of your keys, the door to your shared apartment opens. It’s a day like any other. You finished all your classes around 3pm and headed to the library to watch a few missed lectures. Before returning home, you grabbed some takeout from your boyfriend’s favourite noodle place.

And as you step inside, the salty-sweet scent of tender beef stir-fried noodles and miso soup diffusing in the air, you gasp at the utter pigsty before you. Books and couch cushions are scattered about the floor, the coffee table has been propped up against a wall, and there are metres of tape hanging from the ceiling fan.

You mutter in shock, “Oh my god.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a swathe of black hair and pale skin darting about. With a thud, Hanta lands in front of you in a low crouch.

Rising to his full height, he takes the takeout from your hands and exclaims, “Thanks, babe! Did you get-oh fuck yea!” He leans down and chastely kisses your cheek before heading into the kitchen. Your wide eyes are glued to how perfectly he avoids every obstacle on the floor as he digs through the bag.

You point around your living dishevelled room while stuttering, “U-uh, Hanta, honey. W-what’s going on?” He chuckles warmly as he drops the takeout on the bench and fetches some bowls and cutlery.

He shrugs, “Just testing out my skills, spider monkey.” You take tentative steps toward the kitchen, trying your best to dodge the mess. You’re almost there when you nearly trip on a particularly large cushion. You catch yourself at the last second before you can fall flat on your face (with your heavy-ass fugly backpack on too).

With lightning reflexes, your boyfriend is already next to you, prepared to catch you should you wobble. He steadies you by your forearms, his thin brows furrowed and his full lips slightly pouty.

Hanta asks worriedly, “Are you okay, babe?” You nod and hum reassuringly as you let him guide you to the kitchen unscathed. He squeezes your arm gently before letting go and returning to dishing out your dinner. You lean on the bench with your chest resting on your elbows as you ask him about his day.

Same old, same old. He remarks, “I was actually re-watching Spider-Man.”

You laugh, “Oh yea? How many times is that now? Like 50?” He pushes two bowls toward you, one with your favourite noodles and the other with your soup, and gestures for you to sit down.

The tongs clank beside the sink as he says defensively, “Yea, yea, well… How many times have you rewatched Twilight?” Your mouth falls open, and your hand stills, sauce-slick noodles slipping from your chopsticks.

“Hey!” You call out as he grins cockily and plops down beside you.

“Just saying it like how it is, MJ,” he taunts, his smirk widening as he slurps on miso.

You groan as you pick at your noodles like they have personally offended you, “Will you stop calling me that? My name isn’t MJ.” With a comical gulp, he stares at you for a moment, seeming to assess you in great detail.

Hanta’s slender fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips ghosting your jaw. He finally cups your chin and turns your face toward him, tired eyes roving over your features.

All the cheekiness is gone from his expression as he says seriously, “Is that a new pimple?” You push his hand off as he guffaws.

You groan, “Just shut up and eat your noodles, will you?” His palm slams on the table as he doubles over from laughter, earning an eye roll from you.

You stuff your mouth full of yummy goodness, ignoring his heart-warming chuckles, especially how they melt you from the inside out and take off the edge from a long day at college.

He breathes out, “I-it hurts.”

After swallowing, you lick your lips and frown, “Damn right it should.” You reach for a napkin, but your boyfriend beats you to it. He cups your cheek with one hand and pats your oily lips with the serviette in his other. In return, you thumb his under-eyes, catching all of his stray tears.

He pouts as you draw back, “I’m sorry, babe. I couldn’t resist.” You shake your head.

“I know.” Hanta places the dirty napkin on the bench and releases you, resigned to watch in contentment as you continue eating. After a minute, you gaze at him and see his lazy smile and fond eyes, his cheek squished by the palm he’s resting it on.

With a mouth half full, you say, “What?” He chuckles softly as he shakes his head and turns back to his meal.

He mutters, “Nothing.”

Gulping down your food, you whisper-yell, “Is my pimple really that bad?”

He groans, “No, spider-monkey. I was just admiring my super hot girlfriend, jeez.”

Dabbing your mouth dry, you giggle, “Oh, well then, why didn’t you say so?” He sighs before munching on his noodles. As per usual, he finishes before you and starts cleaning up.

While Hanta’s putting the leftovers in the fridge, he reassures you, “Don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna fix the living room. Right after we kiss.” You nearly choked on your soup.

Coughing a little, you stutter, “W-what?”

He spins around and grins at you confidently, “I saw it today. You know, the iconic kiss scene? I was thinking that we could recreate it.” He stalks over to you and leans against the bench, his arms crossed as he continues, “I mean, I am kinda like Spider-Man, and you’re my MJ.” You roll your eyes and finish off your soup.

You thank your boyfriend while handing him your bowl, and he starts washing the dishes. You take up your rightful place by his side, drying and putting the dishes away once they’ve been cleaned. The rubbery snaps of the gloves cut through the quiet apartment as he yanks them off. He then wraps a strong arm around your shoulders and carefully leads you back to the living room.

Stopping in the middle, he raises his hands, palms facing you as he instructs, “Just stay there, okay?”

You whine, “But Hantaaaa, I’m gonna taste like noodles!” He drops his hands, head cocking to the side as gives you the “Are you being serious right now?” look. You nod and scamper off to the bathroom. You swish around mouthwash and spit it out before running back to him.

You chime whilst your heart pounds in your chest, “Okay, your turn!” He groans like this is the worst possible thing that’s ever happened to him and drags his feet to the bathroom, muttering to himself about how you two kiss all the time with morning breath or after dessert.

When he comes back, there’s a spring in his step. He stops in the hallway and calls out to you to stay right where you are. You nod and obey, slapping your palms on your sides as you wait for him to do his thing.

In the blink of an eye, tape shoots past you as he flies in front of you. You watch in awe as he rapidly jumps around the room, his tape sticking to various objects like the half-emptied bookshelves and couch until he wraps it around the tape-saturated ceiling fan.

You squeal as he covers it in impossibly more tape, “Hanta! You’re gonna break it, oh my god!” Your boyfriend has that cheeky smirk plastered across his face as he lowers himself down to you from the fan, hanging upside down. Your jaw is slack as he dangles right in front of you, his lips perfectly aligned with yours.

He says cockily, “You have a knack for getting in trouble.”

You groan, “Ugghhh Hanta.” You’re tempted to shove him just to see him swing from the ceiling, but you think better of it as you hear your fan creak.

He chuckles, “Fine fine, c’mere, MJ, n’ gimme a kiss.”

Sighing, you grab the sides of his face and tenderly kiss him. His lips are so warm and soft against yours, making you smirk. You knew that chapstick you bought for him last week was so worth it. He grips your hips and tugs you closer to him, making you yelp into his mouth. He swallows the sound whole as you tilt your head, the wet sounds of your kisses filling the air.

Once the ceiling fan groans like it’s on its last straw, you pull back and gaze up at it with wide eyes before looking at your boyfriend.

“Hanta!” You shriek.

He laughs breathily, “I know, I know. ‘M getting down now.”

You two spend the rest of the night cleaning up your living room. Hanta insisted that you sit down and relax, and you tried to really, took a shower, did a face mask and everything. But your poor pookie desperately needed help with ordering his comics by universe and release date. And the entire time, he was yapping off your ear about how cool he is.

Despite your attempts to humble him, you can’t help the smile permanently tattooed across your lips every time you think about your kiss, and more importantly, your very cool boyfriend.

will there be a part two to ur recent smau? specifically bakugos cauz..................what was that ending indicating 😭😭

tbh that ending was unplanned. i was just fucking around and hoping for the best.

idk i'd make a pt 2, like where i would go with it. maybe the boys and their gf break up and reader wants to slide in😳 hold up nonnie i think i'm cooking.

Yeouch! unrequited love hits like nothing else. Your recent smau inspired me to write some angst ty ty

ahhh hehe i'm so glad!!! i'd love to read it once you're done if you wanna send it my way🤭

you didn't realise they had a gf

bakugou, eijiro, hitoshi, izuku, shoto (in that order) ⋆｡°✩— college!au (i live in australia so idk if it's the same cause i based these on my uni experience so far), you're a lil flirty def some ulterior motives and you find out that they're taken, smau

please babies pls tell me what you want🥺

y'all, should i change the look of my blog? my fingers are itching rn.

options:

visual ⟶ more headers for my posts and graphics, cute borders (like the ones with the bows n stuff idk how to make them but i'll figure it out🤷‍♀️)

colourful but simple ⟶ more gradient text, colour-coded hcs for characters and their names and dialogue like:

bf!katsuki is cute or whatever and says, "you're such a fuckin' brat, you know that right?"

maybe not this colour maybe like a solid colour but you get the jist. also more indents like above

cosmic ⟶ my name is star so maybe i should do like a star/celestial-themed page. like silver glitter and star borders, that 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐭.

if you have any other ideas, especially colours like if you like the current blue and a bit of yellow or if you think something else would look better, send them to me in my inbox🤭

y'all, should i change the look of my blog? my fingers are itching rn.

options:

visual ⟶ more headers for my posts and graphics, cute borders (like the ones with the bows n stuff idk how to make them but i'll figure it out🤷‍♀️)

colourful but simple ⟶ more gradient text, colour-coded hcs for characters and their names and dialogue like:

bf!katsuki is cute or whatever and says, "you're such a fuckin' brat, you know that right?"

maybe not this colour maybe like a solid colour but you get the jist. also more indents like above

cosmic ⟶ my name is star so maybe i should do like a star/celestial-themed page. like silver glitter and star borders, that 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐭.

if you have any other ideas, especially colours like if you like the current blue and a bit of yellow or if you think something else would look better, send them to me in my inbox🤭

ugghhhhh this ate so fucking hard omg. idk i'm slowly beocming a caleb girlie someone lock me up and take my ipad away from me.

like he's tryna be so sweet and tender but it's tooth-rotting and you just gotta knock some sense into him😏

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ mine / caleb x reader

synopsis; your beloved caleb is a deeply, deeply secretive (and dense) man, who somehow refuses to call you his. when you bring it up out of frustration, he ends up giving you more than what you asked for. but who would say no to that?

🍎 pomme's notes - the apple demons took over or something. i love my stupid self deprecating emo king

⋆ 2.1k words / angst-ish (kinda) into suggestive..? caleb is stupid / fem reader / 2nd person

you quickly realize that caleb never refers to you as his.

well, not quite. he'll say "my girlfriend", or "my partner" or maybe even "my pipsqueak". but that's the extent of it. he won't ever say "mine".

after you notice that, you decide to up the ante on your side. if he won't say it unprovoked, surely he'll say it to reciprocate you, right?

and so, you get started on your masterful plan.

leaving lipstick marks on his shirts and going "mine" when he sees them in his bathroom's mirror. tracing a finger down his chest and saying "all mine" with a flirty tone after he's done working out.

hell, you'll even up the PDA when you're out with him and tell a girl that's hitting on him off, simply by grabbing his face and going "mine".

but why the hell won't he call you his?

on the other hand, caleb is going insane from all of the times you called him yours.

the angels blessed him or something, he thinks. his beautiful, stunning, showstopping, gorgeous girlfriend calling him hers. if he wasn't happy about it, he'd be the stupidest man in existence. but thankfully, when it comes to loving you, caleb is the first in the class.

when you get jealous over girls hitting on him and you shoo them off, just by staring them down and calling him yours, he feels like he could melt into the ground and become a big puddle of pipsqueak lovin' caleb.

it makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he could call you his in return. but he quickly chased that thought out of his mind; his love wasn't as pure as yours. you called him yours innocently, with no real strings attached. you didn't entertain thoughts of keeping him away from everyone and everything. of making yourself his entire universe. not like he did.

and so, he refused to call you his, out of fear that he would imprison you in a cage he forged with his own hands. when life clipped his wings, he swore to himself that he'd do anything to make you keep yours forever. his evol would be used to make you float freely, never to chain you to the ground.

well, that was until you confronted him about it.

freshly out of the shower, you walked over to him when he was reviewing some files as he laid in your bed. he smiles when he sees you and sets down the files that previously occupied his attention.

"need me to dry your hair, pips?"

"why won't you call me yours, caleb?"

he chokes at how out of left field that question was and starts coughing. fuck, so you did notice, he thinks.

"am i.. am i not enough? i'll try harder, i promise, but i just. i don't know what i'm missing. it's like you love me, but there's always something missing, and i've been trying to figure it out, but i'm at my wits' end caleb. it's been driving me crazy and i tried so hard to get you to call me yours but it's ju-"

"baby, slow down. you're not missing anything, i can tell you that for sure."

you huff in frustration, dissatisfied with his answer. this is so unfair — you're wearing your damn heart on your sleeve, and yet caleb is not letting you see a sliver of his. you know he loves you, obviously, he's not the kind to fake it all.

but why can't he devote his love entirely to you? why's he so closed off? why does he draw boundaries for you, when all he could do was act on them? you were an adult, you could handle it.

sensing your frustration, he runs a hand through his hair and grabs your wrist, making you sit on the bed next to him. he inhales before explaining himself.

"look, i do love you. you know that, right? i love you more than anything on this damn earth. if you asked me to bring you the moon, i'd get the stars while i'm at it, just to make you happy."

"then why won't you ever call me yours? am i not worthy of being by your side?"

he shakes his head furiously, as if you've offended him by even asking this question.

"pips, you just don't understan-"

"help me understand, caleb! stop shutting me out! i'm capable of hearing it, and i want this — i want us to work! i call you mine, my boyfriend, my love, my best friend, for god's sake, caleb, you're my everything! and i'm just pipsqueak to you? is this some sick joke?"

caleb freezes. what if he comes clean, and you see him in a different light? what if you decide to shut him out, because he's too much? he wouldn't be able to handle it, especially not after he experienced domestic bliss with you.

what is he supposed to say now? bring back how he wishes that he could keep you away from the life you knew, especially when you fought with him to express how you loved living in this world intent on hurting you? how, despite every hurdle life threw at you, you loved living and giving back to those around you? he couldn't do that. not at the risk of driving you away again.

and so he resorts to giving you vague expressions and feelings, in hopes that you'll be satisfied with his usual mystical answers.

"no, no it's not baby. please. i just don't think i can let you know everything yet — you're just so earnest with how you love and my love's nowhere near as kind or pure as yours."

now it's your turn to stare in disbelief. you scoff, taken aback by whatever bullshit your boyfriend just spouted. your love is too pure? what the hell does he think you are, mother theresa? he might just be dumber than what you expected. you inhale sharply, getting ready to unload all the frustration you've been keeping at bay on him. you've loved the guy for your entire life, and somehow, he still thinks that the extent of your love is a PG13 romance movie: cuddling together, and maybe, just maybe, some kissing here and there.

him not taking you seriously and underestimating your love for him somehow angers you more than if you were actually missing something he wanted in a relationship.

"too pure? for fuck's sake caleb, i have needs too! we're not in middle school anymore, are we? i want to have sex with you! i want us to take the next damn step in this relationship! do you not want me like that?"

when he tries to defend himself, you shut him down immediately.

"no, let me finish! i get jealous when you get hit on by other girls! sometimes, i wish i could make it so that i'm the only person you know and talk to, i wish that i could keep you away from others!"

you breathe hard. there are so many thoughts spinning in your head and you just see his purple eyes staring deep at you, as if he's trying to scan how you feel — and that makes you even angrier.

how is it that he didn't take your words at face value right now? why's he trying to read into "the deeper meaning of them" by looking into your eyes, as if they were being more honest than you were being?

caleb, who was the smartest in his class at the DAA, the boy who tutored you through the harder math problems in high school, seemed so damn dense right now.

his mouth opened and closed, as if trying to figure out what to even respond with, but you didn't allow him to do that just yet.

"i love how you're always sweet. i love how you care about me more than you care about yourself. you're so perfect. but i'm so sick of pretending like we're 6th graders in love. do you even know how long i've loved you for? you've been the only one on my mind since we knew each other, caleb. god, even when i thought about dating a guy, i'd always end up looking at those who looked like you. i looked for you in every guy i thought about hitting up."

his jaw tensed at the information. you looked for him in other guys? when this whole time, he was right there, building up the courage to ask you to be more than whatever you were at the time?

he felt like his brain was going to overheat from just how many facts were thrown at him. you wanted to keep him away from the world? fuck, you wanted to have sex with him? he'd dreamt of it, of course he had. when he was back at the DAA and the guys would share their stupid porn recommendations, and he'd never be able to watch anything unless the actress looked a bit like you. even then, he'd felt so guilty.

and you wanted him like that?

and then here you were, sat in front of him. letting all of your frustrations and concerns and feelings out in the open. and caleb felt so guilty — so stupid, really. you were trying so hard to get through to him, dropping hints left and right, and he couldn't even reciprocate that.

so he decided that for once, he'd let go. he'd indulge himself in you, allow himself to take a bite of the apple he forbade himself from ever touching. if you were a trial sent to him by a higher being, then man, was he failing, but if the cost of failure was a taste of you, then he would happily take the loss. again and again and again and again.

you were eurydice and he was orpheus. always looking back, always falling deeper into hell's embrace if it meant one more moment with you.

and if caleb denied himself this — then he'd both be a heartless, cruel man, and an idiot. and he wasn't going to be either of those, not anymore.

so, he did what he does best.

he acted upon it.

"i just feel like i'm not being heard ou- mmph!"

you were on the verge of tears, salty drops lining your lash line when you felt his lips on yours. caleb pounced on you, pinning you down.

devoted, passionate, and a secret third thing.

desperate? who knows. who cares, really. not when he's got you sprawled out under him, reciprocating his kiss. for once, he kissed you like he was hungry for more. like you were his lifeline — not like the soft kisses you were used to.

he groans into your mouth, feeling you grow hotter as you grasp at anything you could hold onto. the sheets, his arms, his neck — and when you settle on clawing at his back during this tempest of a kiss, he thinks he sees the gates of heaven.

breathless, he pulls back and looks at you with a look that could only be defined as hungry.

"i don't love you enough? i'd destroy this damn world in a heartbeat if you asked me to. i'd keep you away from anything that could be dangerous, i'd make you rely on me only — always."

he dives back in, sucking harshly on the side of your neck. littering bites and hickeys on there, caleb could devour you whole. you can't help the sounds that escape you, not when you hear him mutter "mine, all mine. my only one, mine, mine, mine" like a prayer in between kisses.

you gasp, dragging your nails down his back in an attempt to ground yourself as he moves down to your collarbone area. caleb takes a second to breathe, and you hear him speak lowly.

"you are, so, so silly. me, not want you enough? if i were to reveal what i wanted to do to you, you'd be crawling away from this room at all costs. do you know just how much i've held back?"

he kisses your lips again, softer this time, but just as passionate. you're out of breath, mind hazy at the sudden show of possessiveness. caleb is finally, finally fulfilling your wish. who care about work tomorrow and having to hide hickeys? you've only got one thing on your mind, and it's the man latching onto the soft skin of your neck again. he all but growls this time.

"mine. all mine, mine and mine only. is that what you wanted to hear? i'll show you, yeah? neither of us is leaving this room until i make you understand that i want you just as much as you want me — hell, if i don't want you even more, pretty girl."

you nod frantically, feeling like you're on cloud 9.

turns out you were his all along.

he just needed a strongly worded pep talk to understand that.

🍎 pomme's final notes - can i be honest this is so self-indulgent. i want to reach into the screen and beat him up because of how stupid he sounds sometimes like i get it but also you're so sexy and how can you be so dumb like omfg get a GRIP!! STAND UPPPPPPP im pulling my hair out

also maybe one day i'll write smut. i feel like i go insane thinking about caleb and then i cant write for him beyond suggestive stuff so instead i just rock back and forth like a crazy person

what lurks in the dark pt.2

sub!bakugou x soft dom!succubus!reader⋆｡°✩ — nsfw, p in v, tender sex, kats is eager to please, mommy kink, kinda fluff/comfort, 4.8k words

pt.1

It’s been months since Katsuki last saw you.

Before that night, he always felt your looming presence; a set of invisible eyes on him at all times. But since you revealed yourself to him, that feeling has long faded. He’s more tired and irritable than ever, a side effect of your touch. Despite this, you're on his sweet lips every night like a prayer. In desperation, he begs you to return. Only for his needs to go unfulfilled; his bed remains empty of a certain seductress.

You haven’t been able to muster up the courage to go back since you tasted him. His unique flavour — etched into your memories, yearned for by your tastebuds — repels you. It’s unhealthy how the memories of that night are on repeat whenever you close your eyes. You can’t escape them. And you can’t feed when he’s always on your mind.

It drives you up the wall, desiring his taste and his touch, yet having to keep yourself away out of fear. Fear of what things could become should you return. In your madness, you convince yourself that if you see him one more time, this ache in your chest will be soothed. See him only, nothing else.

As the sun dips beneath the horizon, you come out of hiding. With lithe movements, you sneak into his home and situate yourself behind the TV in his living room. He’s not back yet, you notice. No, it’s far too dark and quiet for him to be here. Every tick of the clock makes your heart race a little faster. 7pm turns into 8pm, and there’s still no sign of him.

At last, when you are about to give up and go back to the hell you crawled out of, the front door bursts open and the light is flicked on. You squint from the harsh brightness, an exhausted-looking Katsuki stumbling in like a mirage. He hurls a heavy suitcase onto the couch before plopping down on it with a sigh. He’s got little cuts on his face, the blood freshly dried.

You sigh quietly. A strange mixture of relief and concern fills your being as your eyes rove over him. Just like you remember, but oddly not. His under eyes are darker than you remember, and he’s got a slight stubble growing. You gnaw at your lower lip, wondering if that night has been eating him alive the way it has been you.

Your eyes widen as he groans, rocking his hips forward. He whispers so quietly and breathily, you strain to hear it, “Baby, I miss you.” Your heart stops, and heat rises to your cheeks as his words play on loop in your head. What—who was he talking to? You barely peek out from the side of the TV to catch a better glimpse of him.

His head is thrown back and fists clenched as he murmurs, “Really fuckin’ miss you.” His head lolls forward, his eyes clamped shut as his teeth grit far too tightly together.

You feel powerless at this moment. Every fibre of your being is screaming at you to reveal yourself to him, to cup his sweet cheeks and kiss his chapped lips until they’re swollen and bitten. But the rational side of you keeps you firmly rooted to your hiding spot. Because he could be talking about someone else, for all you know. Maybe while you were gone, he found somebody—

His small voice breaks as he begs, “Please, just c-come back. Even for a minute. Just wanna see you again. Please.” A lump forms in your throat as sweat beads down your neck. Oh, Katsuki— What you wouldn’t give to be with him once more. But you can’t. Youcan’tyoucan’tyoucan’t, you remind yourself. Why can’t you again? You can’t remember. You clamp your lips together, silently pleading them to keep all the sighs and whimpers elicited from his pain locked inside.

You’re convinced your eyes are lying to you as you see a single tear roll down his cheek. He chokes out, “P-please, mommy.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Please.”

That’s it. You refuse to let him suffer any longer.

It all happens in a flash. Katsuki swears he sees something fly by; he even feels the wind from your body as it hurtles through the air, and he knows it’s for certain when the light flicks off. Once again, he’s painted in the pale moonlight (your favourite filter on him). But he’s not afraid of the shadows like he used to be. He’s rather comforted, actually, because he knows you're there. It’s either that or Denki is playing a sick prank on him. And if it’s the latter, then that menace is not gonna live to tell the tale.

You push your emotions behind your mask before cooing, “You really missed me, huh?” His head falls back again as he makes out your curvaceous figure in the darkness.

He chuckles sombrely, “Look at what you’ve done to me, woman.” You stride toward him slowly, rejoicing in how his ruby eyes are glued to your frame, tracing every dip and curve like he’s trying to commit them to memory (he is). When you reach the couch, your fingers thread through his messy, blond locks. His head moves with your fingers, leaning into your touch while his eyes close.

He sighs, “Hate you.”

You giggle, “Is that so? Doesn’t look that way to me.”

He grins tiredly, “Hate missin’ you all the fuckin’ time. Why did you abandon me?” You whimper at his words. ‘Abandon’? That cut deep into your heart. It wasn’t like that, you swear. You would never abandon him. You just… needed some time away. Yea.

You shake your head, saying earnestly, “I didn’t abandon you—”

“Yes,” he cuts you off sternly. “Yes, you did. You were with me, and then after taking me to fuckin’ heaven, you disappeared. You abandoned me.” His eyes flutter open and gaze into yours, all of his pain and yearning shining brightly within them. You shake your head again, trying to dismiss his words. But they hurt. A lot more than they should if they were lies.

Your fingers brush the tiny cuts on his cheek. You murmur, “What happened, Suki?” He laughs gruffly, the sound devoid of warmth.

He mumbles cockily, “Was on a mission. Thought you might mind the place for me.” You hum softly as your fingertips caress his jawline; the little hairs are prickly against your skin like a cactus. Breathing in, you waltz around the couch. You halt in front of him, your palms open by your side, tingly and aching for his touch.

Hearing your silent plea, he reaches out to you and takes both hands in his. Your fingers intertwine, his much thicker and longer than yours, yet fitting together seamlessly. He tugs you forward gently, guiding you to straddle his lap. Feeling your weight on him, he sighs, reminded of that night months ago. When you were hovering over him, doing unspeakable things to his body and rewiring his brain to only function when you’re nearby.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you immediately cover his lips with your palm. You shake your head and say lowly, “Please, no more talking. Let’s just be together right now.” He nods slowly as you remove your palm; it’s slightly from his warm breath. His hands drag down his slacks before he cups your waist. His touch makes your brain go all fuzzy; it turns your body all pliant and soft for him like jelly.

You slump forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into the crook of it. There’s no strength left in your body to refuse him. Not when you’ve been trying so hard over these last few months. He smells like ash and toffee, a scent you’ve come to love. Your lungs sear with it as he becomes your sole source of oxygen. His body is so warm and hard against yours; comfortable, familiar. Your wings relax behind you, spreading out gently to cover both of you.

Katsuki whispers in your ear before you can stop him, “Can I touch them?” You hum in agreement. His fingertips caress the top of your wing before gently dragging down toward the spot where they jut out of your back. You sigh in delight, feeling utterly soothed by his considerate touch.

You mumble into his neck, “I’ve never had someone touch them before.” His hand on your wing stills as he gazes down at you.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest and turning your bones to goo, “Oh yea?” You hum and almost purr as he resumes caressing your wings, his other hand stroking your hair.

You two sit in an easy silence for a while, just basking in each other. There’s a certain chill in the air, which makes you huddle up closer. The moon’s glow illuminates your entwined figures, little shadows tracing the crevices of your bodies. Your hand slides down his chest and comes to rest on his heartbeat. It’s stable and slow, contrasting with how it was last time. You chastely kiss his jaw and neck before nibbling his earlobe like a bunny does a carrot.

Sighing, he brushes your hair back from your face and kisses your forehead sweetly. With one hand, he grabs yours again and intertwines your fingers. His other hand wraps around your waist, his thumb gently stroking the soft flesh and rolls.

Like the sinful temptress you are, you shift on his lap, your ass momentarily grinding into his groin. He groans, hands steadying you as he weighs up whether that was on purpose or not. And he knows it was when you shift again, pressing your ass way too hard into him. You whisper his name in his ear, earning a low hum from his chest. You continue, “Can we go to bed?”

He sweeps you up, one arm securely around your back while the other cradles your knees. Your arms tighten around his shoulders as you kiss and nip at his Adam’s apple. Katsuki navigates his home with precision in the dark. No light necessary, not once does he bang into a wall or accidentally knock anything with your foot.

Finally, he opens his bedroom door and lays you down in the centre of his plush bed. Just being in here, with the curtain open and light streaming in, makes you reminisce. You giggle, “You really should have drawn your curtains if you were going to be away on a mission. You wouldn’t want to give any passersby ideas, would you?”

He climbs on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head as his lips meet yours in a tender kiss. He moans into your mouth, calloused palms cupping your cheeks and angling you just right. He doesn’t press too hard against you, no. You can feel it in how softly he caresses your jaw, he’s holding back. Not because he’s afraid that you could disappear at any moment (I mean, he is, but that’s besides the point). He’s holding back because he wants you to guide him, to show him how you need his affection right now.

Your teeth graze his lower lip, making him shiver. His lips part even more, letting you slip your tongue into his mouth. You moan, lapping at his cheeks and gums fervently. Your kiss turns sloppy, the wet sounds your saliva popping every time you two pull back for air. Spit drips from the corner of your lips, symbolising your hunger for each other. You rest your forehead against his, chuckling breathily as his thumb wipes away your drool.

You sigh, “Suki, can we take it slow tonight?” He gently kisses the tip of your nose and then your nose bridge, eyelids, eyebrows, and every little imperfection.

He mutters into your cheek, “’Course we can, mama.” You hum quietly, enjoying his light kisses. He trickles down your jaw to your neck, teeth nipping at your hot flesh every so often.

He mumbles beneath your ear, “How about I please you this time?” Your chuckle gets caught in a whimper he pulls from your throat with his tongue licking up the side of your neck.

You exhale, “Is that what you really want?” He pulls back and meets your gaze, his full lips swollen from all your kisses. He nods before leaning back down and pecking your lips.

He groans against them, “Never wanted anything more than you.”

You shift underneath him, running your fingers through his dishevelled hair as you whisper, “Show me.” He glances at your lips while he licks his own before meeting your gaze once more. You tilt your head back, a slight grin on your face as you brush your nose against his. He closes the distance between you, enveloping you in a heated kiss. Speaking of heat, his body is so hot and heavy on yours. He cages you in, causing you to forget about your surroundings. Everything else is silent, it’s like you’re the only two beings that exist right now.

Down your body he trails, leaving love bites and lingering kisses behind. He gazes up at you as his fingers rest on the band of your bralette, seeking permission to take it off. You nod, sitting up with his help as you turn around and point to the ties. You sigh as he undoes them and pulls the little piece of fabric off your body, casting it into the abyss of his room. You gasp as his hands encircle your waist and his lips kiss the small horn at the tip of your wing. The feeling of his lips has you shivering as they dote on your wings, tracing every edge and bone.

His hand wraps around your throat, gently tilting your head back as he captures your lips in another kiss. His other hand kneads your doughy hips. You mewl as he presses his chest into your wings, his hand slipping from your hip to your thigh and squeezing the fat there. You tug on his hair, arching your back to taste more of him.

He whines into your mouth, “Can I touch you here?” His fingertips ghost your barely covered cunt. You pull away from his kiss, your chest rising and falling as your other hand coils itself around his forearm.

You pant, “Of course, baby. Let me show you how, okay?” He nods eagerly as you slip his hand under your double slit skirt, fingertips brushing your clit. You sigh as you slide his fingers down your folds, pausing at the bottom to gather all of your arousal before bringing them back up. You guide him to repeat this motion a few more times, your eyes closed and head resting on his chest as you enjoy the sweet sensations.

You then drag his fingers to rest on your swollen bud and start with small, slow circles. Your hand shifts up to grasp his wrist as you moan, “Come on, honey. Just like that.” Your breasts heave up and down as his circles get faster and messier. Your grip on his wrist tightens, stuttered mewls falling from your bitten lips.

When he starts to move his fingers back and forth, you pull his hand off your pussy. You whine, “No, baby. Just circles, okay? You can do that later.” He groans against your ear, biting the shell of it as you bring his fingers back to your clit. His other hand presses down your tummy as he rubs your clit harder, eliciting louder moans from you.

You can feel the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, like a knot being pulled tighter and tighter. So imagine your dismay when he stops all of a sudden and pulls his hand out from under your skirt.

You cry out, “Why’d you stop?!” You twist back to look at him, only to see his deep blush as he sucks your juices from his fingers. Your jaw drops slightly, and your eyes widen, seeing the desperate hollow of his cheeks.

He groans as he pulls his long digits out of his mouth, “You taste so good, mommy.” He gazes at you with low-lidded eyes, smirking, “Think I could eat you out this time?” You nod, robbed of your coherence. He presses into you, his body so hot you could melt.

He grunts, “What would be more comfortable for you? On your knees? Or on your back?”

You chirp breathily, “On my back.” He nods and holds your forearms and waist as you turn around and lie down. You rock your hips up to his without warning, spreading your legs wide for him. He gulps and kisses your forehead tenderly before shifting down your body.

Katsuki perches between your thighs, eyes roving over your cunt like it’s an artwork he’s admiring. He licks his lips ravenously, so eager to taste you again already. With one last lingering gaze at you, he dives in, slurping at your folds and sucking on your clit with fervour. Your back arches at the sensation, moans tumbling out of your mouth from how good it feels. You can hardly catch your breath with the pace he’s going at. It’s like he’s been starved, and tasting your sweet nectar has unlocked something deep within him. Something wild and unpredictable.

He never falters. Not for a second as he’s eating you out like no man ever has. Your arousal coats the lower half of his face, soaking him in the richest wine. It revitalises his weary muscles and foggy mind, offering him a sense of clarity he hasn’t had since you disappeared. And nothing could be clearer than how much he needs and craves you right now.

You’re beginning to think your blond is Cerberus in disguise with how gluttonously devours your pretty little cunt. You can’t stop whining and moaning. Your fingers are tangled in his hair and tugging at it every time he sucks extra hard on your clit. You call out his name into the void, and all you receive are his hungry slurps and the squelching of your wetness.

Your orgasm builds rapidly, reaching a crescendo as you scream out. You hear him chant into your folds, “Cum for me, mama. Please. Please cum.” You yank hard at his locks as your back arches so deeply, like you’re possessed. You are, by the intensity of your climax. It crashes down over you, swallowing you up whole like a tsunami. You scream out his name, the only word on your lips like a prayer, as his tongue doesn’t stop.

He drags your orgasm out of you, leaving you a shuddering, whimpering mess. Your thighs are clamped tightly around his head, threatening to squish his brains out, but he welcomes it. Hell, he even encourages it with the way he continues lapping at your juices like the famished dog he is.

You cry out, “Suki! Suki, that’s enough now! ‘M really sensitive.” Your voice is the only anchor in this sea of pleasure. He pulls off your clit with a groan and rests back on his haunches, his erection so fucking obvious in his black track pants it makes you whine, “Just a minute, baby. Just-just g-give me a minute to recover.” He nods slowly, eyes on your curves as his tongue licks his drenched lips.

Katsuki leans back down, hovering his body over yours. Your hands paw at his chest as your teary eyes find his. He presses the softest kiss to your nose tip before capturing your lips with his. You moan loudly, tasting yourself all over him and inside of his hot mouth. It’s enough to send fresh slick gushing from your twitching pussy.

You tilt your head back, lips separating from his as your noses brush. You exhale, “Suki… Fuck.” He chuckles, face glistening in the low light. You continue, “Suki, I-I need you.”

He pecks your lips before murmuring against them, “How do you need me, mama?” You take a moment to catch your breath, closing your eyes as your chest rises and falls heavily; the last little tremors of your orgasm leave your body. Your nipples brush against the cotton of his shirt, hard and a little sore.

You find his gaze once more, holding it steady as you whisper, “Need you inside of me, Suki. Right now.” His smirks, that lopsided grin doing everything to you. He swiftly pulls off his shirt, track pants, and underwear. The darkness consumes them as he hurls them off the bed, large veiny hands coming to stroke his equally veiny cock. You moan, watching him spread his pre-cum down his shaft.

You sit up and tug him down to you, whispering in his ear, “Come on, baby. I won’t last another minute without you in me.” He chuckles, his hot breath fanning your ear as his hand finds its place beside your head. His other hand continues to pump his cock. You both gaze at it, slightly blurred by the shadows. You lick your lips in anticipation and whimper as he drags his tip through your folds.

“Fuck-that feel so fucking good, Suki. Please-fuck, please put it in me, baby,” you whine. He leans down, his lips on yours as he prods your entrance. You cry out at the burning stretch of him, causing Katsuki to pull back with wide eyes.

He murmurs, his movements still, “You okay, angel?”

You nod and pout, “I’m not an angel.”

He presses his forehead to yours, cursing cockily, “You scared the fuckin’ life out of me, angel. Can I keep going?” You hum in agreement, letting his little pet name for you slide. You’ll tell him off for it later.

The stretch stings so bad from your months of celibacy. All you can do is grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut as you suck him in.

Katsuki notices your discomfort. He grabs your clenched fist with his free hand, forcing it open and intertwining his fingers with yours. The gesture makes you giggle, but as he bottoms out, that giggle turns into the most heart-wrenching whimper.

He gazes at you with furrowed eyebrows and a tight jaw, saying harshly, “Fuck, just tell me to stop. I know it hurts—”

“’M fine, Suki.” You cup his cheek with your other hand, meeting his intense eyes as you quietly reassure him, “It’s just been a while, m’kay? I’ll be fine.” He huffs, his nostrils flaring as he dips his head back down and kisses you tenderly.

Breaking the kiss, he grunts, “Just tell me when I can start moving, yea?” You hum and lean up, catching his lips again with yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, swirling and sucking yours as his body presses firmly into you. He doesn’t lay on you because he knows just how fucking heavy he is. But he shifts impossibly closer, the slightest movement of his hips sending yours bucking and your head tilting back with mewls spilling over.

You whine, “Please, baby. It’s okay now for you to move.” He grips the back of your neck and carefully guides your head back to face him, his gaze locked on yours as he slowly draws out of you and thrusts back in. You swear that simple, agonisingly slow movement has knocked the air out of your lungs. For so damn long you’ve been waiting for this moment, and now that it’s arrived, you’re in euphoria.

The sounds that his bucking hips tear from your throat are inhuman (as you are). He can’t get enough of it, his weight sinking into you as he clings to you for dear life. His muscular arms are wrapped tightly around your frame, his back hunched as he passionately drives his cock into you. His lips are by your ear, the sweetest whimpers falling from them. One of your hands entangles in his hair while the other caresses his shoulder blades (and occasionally squeezes and scratches them).

The lewd sounds of your sex fill the suddenly hot air. Your bodies, now one, shine in the blue hues of the moon. The shadow of your joint form is cast on the carpet, a masterpiece that will be gone once the sun rises. Pleasure shoots through your body as Katsuki thrusts into you particularly hard, earning a breathy moan from you. It prompts him to go harder, beginning a cycle of louder whines torn from both of you.

He mumbles in your ear, “Fuck, mommy. Y’feel so fuckin’ tight.” You grin cockily, only for it to be stolen once his hips snap into yours.

You groan, “Fuuckk, Kats. Right there, honey! Right there.” He thrusts into you harder and deeper, massive hands grabbing the back of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to get the perfect angle. You’re winded as his tip hits that spongy spot deep within you. You can’t remember that last time you’d been fucked this good.

His goddamn thrusts shake every thought out of your mind, leaving you solely capable of moaning his name and praises. You mewl, “So fuckin’ good, baby. Love it when you fuck me like that-fuck! You’re so good to me, aren’t you?”

He groans in your ear before biting your earlobe, “’Course I am. God, you’re so perfect, mommy.” Your breasts bounce against his chest, the friction sending even more waves of pleasure down to your throbbing cunt. You clench around him, spurring him on. His lips embrace yours in a deep kiss, with your exhale becoming his inhale. As you pull back, you see the sheen of sweat dusting his tanned skin in the gentle light. You smile softly before tugging him back down into another soul-stealing kiss.

He mumbles into your mouth, “What’re you smilin’ about?” You giggle, a string of saliva connecting your tongues as you peer at him beneath thick lashes. It snaps as you grin, “You say I’m perfect but-you’re just as perfect.” He shakes his head, his hips stuttering from your compliment.

He grunts, “Whatever.” You chuckle airily as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

You moan into his skin, “Please, don’t stop, baby. It feels so good.” He groans low, resuming his impassioned pace. His hands trail up your forearms, and his fingers intertwine with yours again. He pins both of your hands beside your head and licks his lips as he gazes at you, panting wildly.

You swear that this is the closest you’ll ever get to salvation as he continues fucking you. The pleasure goes straight to your core, growing until it bursts with a shriek.

Your eyes glaze over as your orgasm consumes you whole. It claws up from the pit of your tummy, ripping cries and screams out of you, all for the man buried balls deep inside of you. You can’t help but clamp down so fucking tightly around him till the point where he can’t not cum inside of you. You thrash beneath him, moaning and whining as he spills his hot load into you.

Katsuki sinks into you, keeping you steady as he falls apart on top of you. He gives you the fill of a thousand, satiating your ravenous hunger. But not for long. Soon enough, you’re hips buck up into his, rocking slowly as the overstimulation hits. He hisses at you about being sensitive right now, but you couldn’t care less. You need more. So much fucking more.

Until dawn, you’re on his case. You put his pro hero stamina to the test, barely giving him more than five minutes of rest before you’re climbing back on top of him, pushing his thick cock back inside of your snug walls and drawing orgasm after orgasm out of him.

By the time chiffon light streams into his bedroom, you’re both utterly spent and sleep-deprived. You lie there, bodies soaked in sweat and each other’s fluids, cuddling and whispering sweet nothings to one another. He begs you not to leave as the sky grows warmer, but you have to. You’re not meant for the light. He knows that. And he lets you go, reluctantly. Very reluctantly, after drowning you in his kisses and marks and demanding that you visit him again soon.

You place one last tender kiss on his lips before vanishing into the sun-soaked clouds.

A love so sweet yet cruel; utter bliss when together, only for a parasite to feed. Not that you want to, but that’s what you are. The demon in you, the demon you are, can’t tell the difference between the man you love and the man you fuck for survival. But you hope that one day, it will.

this was so good!!! the explicit consent and toji's patience!! the intimate atmosphere ahhhh i loved it! i love the writing style!

i feel like so many of his smuts are focused on him being really mean and rough, and this is such a nice contrast to those.

Toji and his shy girl cuddle fucking WHO SAID THAT

A/N: EEHEE I heard it too 🤭 Even if the echo took a while to reach me 😔 No, but really, I loved this! It's been a while since i've written out a request 😅 I'm excited to start trying some of these, again :)

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

"Hey, you," Toji says, grinning like a menace at the way your body minimally jolts, like he scared you. "You don't like me or something?"

You turn to look at him, a barely there crease between your brows. "What? I do. What do you mean?"

"I mean, why don't you wanna be with me? You're sitting on your own island over there, while i'm over here... all alone... feeling like chopped liver."

He's cute, you think. Playfully dramatic enough to make you giggle. It's always nice to know he wants you around, too, when you keep your distance to give him that choice.

"I just thought you would want some space, is all," you explain. "This is a pretty long movie, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Would sitting with me make you uncomfortable?" Toji asks.

"No," you respond, though the thought of sitting next to him or on him, has your heart rate picking up. Most of the time, Toji wants it to be the latter, and when this happens, it feels like he's peeking at your soul. You feel like every nerve in your body is tingling and like your skeleton is buzzing. You know he can sense your nervousness, most of the time, and yet he doesn't take it easy on you. His patience, his charm, and his irresistible way of trying to seduce you—none of it ever gets easier to withstand without you feeling flustered.

"You're comfortable, I'm comfortable. We're both comfortable, so, come closer, sweetheart." He sees hesitance flash through your features, before you finally give in and start inching closer.

"Come on. Closer, baby," Toji instructs, watching as you continue to inch towards him. "Look at all this space. Get rid of it."

He chuckles at the properness of your folded hands in your lap, when you sit on the edge of the couch cushion, in front of his legs. "You're gonna stop there and keep watching the movie all uncomfortable?"

"It's fine," you say, smiling at him before facing forward, again. You can feel him staring at you as you try to focus on the movie. His hand goes to your thigh, an act that has your heart beating rapidly in your chest, close to being heard in your ears. He tugs at your sweatpants, earning your attention.

"I'll spell it out for you, doll. I want you here, lying right in front of me. Wanna cuddle with you and shit." You return your gaze to the screen and though anybody would think that it's rude, because it seems like you're ignoring him, Toji knows what it means. He knows it's hard for you to hold eye contact with him, sometimes, and that you looking away gives you time to collect your thoughts and prepare what you want to respond with.

"But you won't be able to see the movie," you say, as a last ditch effort to let him enjoy the movie without obstructing his view and invading his personal space.

"We'll make it work. Just come here. Please?" He pats the spot in front of him, directing you to lie right where he wants you.

"Okay," you say, more to yourself than to him. You scoot down a little more, before lying down on your side, on the exact spot he said he was wanted you. In an instant, you're swallowed up by him. He pulls you in so that you're pressed up against him, his leg overlaps yours, and his face goes straight for your neck.

"T-Toji, I know you can't see the movie. I can go back, if you want."

"Mm-mm. Nope. It's all good. Got what I need," he assures, low against your neck, a hand planted on your stomach. "Pretty baby," he murmurs, pressing kisses onto your skin. "You smell so fucking good."

You feel like some sort of soothing toy for him, with the way any time you sit with him, you end up stealing his focus and withstanding the way he mouths at your skin and runs his hands all over you.

"You comfortable? Have enough space?" He asks, kissing your earlobe. You nod in response and he hums, a click of his tongue and a couple pats to your stomach, expressing his disapproval of the nonverbal confirmation. "Say it, baby. Yes or no?"

"Sorry. Yes, i'm comfortable," you confirm, in a manner more to his liking.

"Mm... you're so good to me, doll," Toji praises, adding a kiss to the appreciation.

He understands that sometimes it's difficult for you to say things out loud and you'll dismiss your own discomfort for the sake of not having to verbalize what is bothering you. It's why he's so adamant on hearing you talk, over seeing you nod or shake your head in response to things. He's working on this with you. He's heard 'sorry' so many times, now, and each time, he rejects your apology, deeming it unnecessary, because he knows you're trying.

Things are still for a few moments. You get fully comfortable, lying there on the couch, with Toji spooning you, and manage to refocus on the movie. His hand goes under your shirt, meeting the warmth of your skin. It's a gesture that disturbs the calmness of your heart, as well as your focus on the TV, again.

"This okay?" He asks, caressing your stomach, occasionally pinching it, gently.

"Mhm," you hum, in response, before pretending to pay attention to the movie. You're too distracted by the dragging of his fingertips and the goosebumps he lures onto your skin. You're sure he can feel them, too, because his hand starts wandering higher up your torso, like he wants to get more reactions from you. You shift minimally when his fingers slide beneath the elastic band of your sports bra, grazing the bottom part of your breast.

"Still comfortable?" Toji asks, keeping his hand still until he receives a response from you.

"Yeah... you're okay," you assure, once again, resting your hand on his forearm. Your breath hitches when his fingertips brush against your nipple. Toji grins at the involuntarily squeeze you offered his arm, finding amusement in the way your body reacts to his touch.

Toji chuckles, lowly, at all your sudden fidgeting. "Does that feel good, mama? Want me to keep going?" He asks, planting a kiss on your shoulder. You're not stopping him. If anything, he can feel you gently pushing his arm so that his entire hand goes up your bra. "It's alright. You can tell me," he says, encouraging you to respond.

"It feels good. Please..." Your soft voice halts, a shuddered exhale released through your nose.

"Mhm, give me more. Please, what?" He says, baiting a more elaborate response from you. "Just saying 'please' doesn't tell me what you need, pretty."

"Please... keep touching me." You cringe, internally, the second the words come out. You don't even realize how proud Toji is or get to indulge in the praise he offers, because you're too busy overthinking what you just said.

"That was perfect," Toji murmurs, scattering light kisses onto your neck. His enormous hand stretches your bra, and grabs ahold of your breast. "I'll give you anything you want, sweetheart. Anything. The trick is... you gotta ask for it."

That alone is enough to teach you another lesson on not always being able to get what you want. It's not always so easy for you to ask Toji for things. He's seen you get frustrated, because of this. It happens, even if your frustration is never loud and you don't raise your voice or throw a tantrum. It's quite the opposite. Too many questions to your initial request, results in you shaking your head, as if to say, 'never mind. I'll do it myself'. Having to repeat yourself too many times, gets a similar result. Even in times when he's just asking you to describe something more, you lose patience with yourself and your inability to communicate what you need, efficiently, and essentially give up on explaining it to him, doing it yourself, instead.

It's times like these that really help you out in that aspect. You want something that you can make yourself feel, but receiving it from Toji makes it so much better, because of the element of surprise. You give him access to your entire body and he gives you everything you could ever want in terms of pleasure. You never know where he's going to touch you and what he's going to touch you with.

"You understand?" Toji asks, seeking comprehension from you. A small whimper interrupts the silence of an expected response. "I know. Tell me," he encourages.

Your grip on his arm gets tighter and more of your restrained soft sounds reach his ears as he keeps rolling your stiffened peak between his fingers. You gasp when he shifts his attention to your other breast and writhe in his arms. "Y-Yes—please—yes, Toji. I understand."

"Sensitive thing." He chuckles. "Look at that little arch. Bet you're soaked, already, huh?"

"Oh... god, i'm sorry," you mumble, relaxing your back against him, again. You feel like you could implode with how much attention you're being given. You just want to shrink and hide under the couch, and just watch the rest of the movie from there.

"You're fine, doll. I know the slightest touch does a lot to you," he says, brushing over your nipple, knowing that your reaction will emphasize his point. "You nervous?"

You groan in response to the question and turn your head so that your face is planted in the pillow, earning another deep chuckle from Toji.

"I'm not gonna eat you, mama," he jokes, grinning at the way your body trembles with contained amusement. "I mean... I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it before. You're sweeter than any candy or cookie—even cake. You're sweeter than all of it, but I need you here with me, so I can't... I won't eat you, alright?" His method of getting you to lighten up worked enough to lure giggles from you. "Yeah, there you go. Relax. Just wanna love on you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your shoulder. "Wanna make you feel good. You want that, gorgeous?"

Throughout your time with Toji, you've learned that he's a very hands on man. He's constantly seeking your warmth and softness, because physical touch is his love language and he'll put in the work to get you to comfortably connect with him that way, too. You find that sometimes when you're lying in his bed, ready for the sleep part of sleeping over, he'll stick his head up your shirt and just fall asleep like that on your chest. It's easy for him to relax when he can hear your heart wildly beating in your chest. Sometimes, randomly, when you're just sitting next to him, he'll pick you up and set you down on him, just to watch you get flustered when he starts talking to you within such a close proximity. He loves the way you scramble to escape his sight, always ending up with your face buried in his neck.

"Aw, don't go all quiet on me, now, pretty. You know better. Say what's on your mind." His hand slides out of your bra and goes back down to your stomach, the roughness of his palm rubbing your soft skin. You don't like making him beg for you. He's patient enough with your nervous tendencies, you know he doesn't deserve it.

"I want you, Toji," you say, softly. It's a huge contrast to the hammering going on in your chest and the annoying rhythm in your ears.

"Yeah? Keep fucking going, baby. How do you want me?"

"Please," you mumble, reverting back to the familiarity of simplicity.

"No, not like that. Give me a little more," Toji clarifies.

"I... I want you to touch me... and make me feel good. Want you to feel good, too."

You feel and hear the rumble of his laugh behind you, a sound that makes your fingertips tingle and your stomach erupt with butterflies all over again.

"You precious angel. You want me to fuck you?"

You don't know how long you can last with your heart beating so fast. It's a miracle that it hasn't exploded, with how it's almost always racing when you're around Toji.

You feel like your face is on fire, but you nod, and offer a soft, yet, clear, "yes, please," giving Toji the consenting words he's been listening closely for.

"Alright, ma. You just focus on the rest of the movie and i'll take care of you, 'kay?"

"Mhm," you hum, in response. You pull on the drawstring of your pajama bottoms and begin pulling them down with one hand. Toji watches with a sly smirk on his face as he feels you shift around, more of your skin coming into view. This is your effort. This is what makes him love you so damn much. You try for him. He knows your heart is probably in shambles, as you kick the article off and wait for what's to come, but you're showing him that you want this, and that means beyond everything to him.

"You're so perfect, my girl," he says, pressing kisses to your ear. "So, so perfect..." he trails off when his fingers meet the wetness of your panties. He was right. You're utterly soaked. His hand dips into your underwear, instantly greeted by your warmth as he keeps digging. Two fingers drag through your slit, back and forth, for just long enough to have you fidgeting as he collects a sample of your sweetness. Once your thighs attempt to shut around his hand, craving more, he pulls it out and admires the glossy coating on his fingers. Without hesitation, he brings the digits into his mouth, a low hum of satisfaction leaving him as he licks them clean. His cock is throbbing in his pants, straining mercilessly against his boxers as he savors the aftertaste of you on his tongue.

"Straight up fucking sugar," Toji murmurs, as he hastily starts pulling down his own pants, ready to get a feel of what he just tasted. There's a breathiness in his voice, urgency that you can't process, because you can barely believe he sounds that way after tasting you. Then you feel it—the monster he packs, pressing against you.

"I'm all hard, just for you, pretty," he murmurs in your ear, as he starts grinding his bulge against your ass. "Feel that?" He groans. "It's all for you. All yours." He plants a kiss on your neck and halts the movement of his hips against you. His hand returns beneath your shirt, a slow drag up your abdomen, towards your chest. His fingers dip beneath the elastic once more and splay over your breast, squeezing. He can feel the stutter in your chest as he feels up the entirety of it. You keep fidgeting against him, and he recognizes this as your way of saying you need more.

"You ready for me?" He asks, still toying with your stiffened, sensitive peaks.

"Ready," you respond, maintaining your voice as steady and clear as possible. You squeeze his hand through your shirt for deeper assurance.

Toji smiles softly at your little gesture and pulls his hand out of your shirt. Just as he did when he was directing his touch towards your chest, he follows the same path down, tracing your curves until his hand makes it way between your legs. He moves the gusset of your underwear aside, an act that has you shaking your foot against the couch cushion.

"Relax, sweet girl," Toji hums, a low chuckle following. He lowers his boxers enough to pull his throbbing, drooling cock out and smears the precum that beads on his tip all over his length. Once it's all covered he guides his tip to the warm, slick ridden space between your legs. After running it through your slit a few times, to hear the squelching sounds and your little whimpers when he catches your clit, he slowly starts sinking into you.

"There, baby," Toji murmurs. His warm palm rubs the softness of your stomach and he scatters wet little kisses on your shoulder and your neck, all while he continues feeding your cunt his inches. "You're so fucking cute," he coos, listening closely to the sound of your little whimpers and gasps. "Fuck..." he groans, once his hips are flush against you. He can feel the way you clench and flutter around his pulsing cock, making the fit even more snug for seconds at a time.

"All good, little lady?" He asks, pinching your goosebump covered stomach.

"Mhm," you hum, a chime of your giggle following.

Toji's hold on you is secure. He has you. Warm and gentle caresses and brushes of his fingers on your skin prove it, along with the way he languidly grinds his hips against you, as if to remind you that you're connected in the most physically intimate way. It's not like you could ignore it, anyway. You feel all of him. His warmth, his strength, his company. It's impossible to ignore Toji.

"This movie's pretty boring, huh?" He asks, not even paying attention to what's going on, like he hasn't been since you crawled into his arms.

"You're not even watching," you reason, smiling at the kisses he presses to your ear.

"Got a reaaally good distraction right in front of me." He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. "So warm and pretty and mmm... Can't focus on anything else," he purrs.

"It's okay. You can choose the next... the next one, too..." you gasp at the slow thrusts he offers. With every roll of his hips, his cock slides out just about halfway before sheathing back into the velvety warmth of your walls.

"I don't want to watch TV, anymore. Wanna watch you," he murmurs, monitoring your reactions to his movement. Every twitch, every shift of your legs against his. It's adorable, the way you push your face just a little bit more into the pillow when he tries to get a peek at you.

"Like that, baby?" He murmurs, a deep groan following. "Mhm? Yeah, I know," he says, like he's responding to your moan.

"Toji," you hum out, an unintentional amount of sultriness dripping off his name.

"Fucking- god, you sound so pretty, mama. Let me hear that again. Do it again."

His hips pick up the pace a little, just enough to coax more of those melodic sounds of yours. His hand dips lower, proceeding down the front of your underwear, his thick fingers gliding down towards your slippery clit. It doesn't take much of this electric addition to your pleasure to have you squirming and writhing against him. It's hard not to want to squish his hand between your thighs.

You whimper, a slight arch curving your back. Your clammy, shaky hands grip onto the couch cushion beneath you, your knuckles protruding from the force you put into your hold. You think he's on the brink of devouring you—absorbing you— with how he's holding you like you'll teleport into space if he lets go for a second.

"Say my name," he says, calmly, directly in your ear. "Call for me, sweetheart. Who's touching you? Who's making you feel like this?"

"T-Toji," you obediently pronounce, meekly, yet, to the man's utmost satisfaction.

"Again—fuck, baby—again," he groans, speeding up his fingers on your clit. He knows the motions spiked your pleasure because of how your body tensed up against him.

Sloppy kisses are pressed to your nape, as well as the side of your neck, where you know fully well that he must have left a plethora of marks already. You can hear the consistent sharp breaths he releases through his nose as he begins to desperately roll his hips into you, chasing what's coming up on him ridiculously fast. He's not aggressive—not entirely soft—but there's just enough movement to where you can hear a slight creak in the couch.

"Toji," you croon, softly. "T-Toji, Toji," you repeat, a high pitched whimper ending your little chain of his name.

"Oh, you're so fucking sweet, doll. So fucking sweet..." he mutters, his voice deep enough to make goosebumps spread anew, all over you. He hums at the feeling of your cunt erratically clenching around him. It's a tell tale sign—along with the frequency of your precious little sounds—of how you're right there, about to cum all over his twitching cock.

Toji loves how flustered you get when he has you tell him that you're about to cum, but he also loves the abruptness that comes with you being so overwhelmed by his touch and how he handles you, that for a few seconds you tense up and release all the sounds that bubble up in your chest, caving to the relentless amount of pleasure you feel without a warning.

"You're my pretty girl," Toji says, lowly, grinning when that's all it takes for you to gasp and arch off his front. Your body trembles and your thighs squeeze around his hand when his fingers continue to rub your clit. His tip just continues to prod at the sensitive spot within you, further intensify the sensation coursing through you. You're aware of how your moans have gotten louder and attempt to muffle them with the pillow, but your breathy little cries can be heard, regardless.

They spur on Toji's own release. His hand comes out of your underwear to avoid overstimulating you and glides up your abdomen, aiming towards your chest. He grabs ahold of one of your breasts, his hand smothering the entire thing as he squeezes and kneads it. You can hear his breathing grow heavier, his thrusts more punctuated, and a little faster in pace. The creaking of the couch is more frequent, as are his groans in your ear. His hold on you is tight. With his forearm having brought you back as close as you can be to him, you're locked in. With a few more thrusts, into your dripping wet warmth, he's spilling his load into you, breathy, deep voiced expletives tumbling off his lips as smears your gooey walls with all the warm, creamy substance.

"F-Fuck..." he groans, slowing the roll of his hips to a languid grind. "I got you," he says, chuckling at the gasp you let out from being filled even more. He drags unfocused, wet kisses over your shoulder and stills his hips entirely with a heavy breath. "Got you, mama." He loosens his hold on you, allowing you to breathe and move a little more freely. "Good?"

"Mhm. Good," you assure.

"Good. Gimme a kiss," he requests, smirking at the sound of your tittering. "What? You laughing at me 'cause I want a little smooch?"

"No," you say, through soft, but, more audible giggling.

"You promise?" He says, grinning at the slight tremble of your shoulders as your twinkles of laughter continue. "I'll let it slide, just this once. Now, give me a kiss, baby."

With a smile lingering on your face—the aftermath of your short giggle fit—you lie back a little and crane your neck as much as you comfortably can. Toji leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to your sweet, lip balm layered ones, brushing them over and over as if he's parched and you're a glass of water. Both of your bodies react to the spark of desire reigniting through the gentle gesture. You can feel him throbbing inside you, while he can feel you clenching around him. His hand pawing at your chest makes butterflies swarm in your stomach and fuels the fluttering going on below.

You hear the dramatic background music of the movie's end credits and break the kiss, facing forward. You realize now that you paid just as much attention as he did—almost none—even when you agreed to keep watching as he touched you.

"Play another boring one," Toji says, behind you, already nipping at your ear, because your attention isn't solely on him anymore.

"But you won't watch it," you say, shuddering at the chill that runs down your spine, when you feel his lips behind your ear.

"That's the point."

what lurks in the dark pt.1

sub!bakugou x soft dom!succubus!reader⋆｡°✩ — nsfw, titty fuck, reader is obsessed with suki, kinda dubcon, mommy kink, reader is curvy, she talks him through it hehe, 3.9k words

pt.2

a/n: had to watch porn as a reference, i hath been scarred by “SiR lOok AT aLL tHAt CUM FoR Me.”

Once darkness envelops the world, you rise. It’s your time. Time to feed upon the lewd desires festering in the human world. And there’s one man who’s caught your attention.

In silence, you’ve been watching him. You’ve memorised his daily routine; the way he groans and scrunches his eyes when he wakes up in delirium, to the little ‘ahs’ he releases when pushing till failure in the gym, and the thud of his black duffel bag landing on the floor after a long day at work.

Such a delicious treat, you can’t help but lick your lips and purr every time he gets in the shower. The steam leaves far too much to your imagination as water pelts down his hard body.

Your fellow succubi call you odd for your fascination. I mean, your purpose is to get what you need and get out. There’s no time to linger, always moving on to the next victim. But, you feel so drawn to this one man. His lopsided grin is so charming, and his crimson eyes are the shade of your wings. And those veiny hands and forearms— You feel as though he’s meant for you. Meant to be ruined by you, that is.

It all started when you caught a glimpse of him on your travels all those months ago. Sweat-soaked to the bone, clad in his hero costume with blood smeared down the side of his face. What a sight, you had thought. You lurked in the shadows, edging closer and closer to him. Your eyes were trailing the taut pull of his muscles as he delivered blow after blow to the poor villain. You giggled, excited by the violence.

After the villain was taken away, the blond stalked off, shouting about how this sudden incident had interrupted his plans. Intrigued, you followed him home. Much to your surprise, there were no such plans after work. No, all he did was go home, clean himself up and grumble, eat leftover takeout, and go to bed.

Since then, you’ve been visiting him and over time, your abstinence has only heightened your obsession. Now, you are nearing the point of madness. So desperate for his seed, yet too nervous to take it.

You’re a succubus! A demon so seductive men can’t take their eyes off you. They obey your every command, pliant to your desires. Why would this time be any different? Did you want it to be?

You resolve that tonight will be the night you’ll finally have your fill. With a sweet chuckle, you hide in his wardrobe just in time for when the bedroom door clanks open. In walks a muttering Katsuki (as you’ve learnt, that’s his name), his brows are furrowed and his eyes narrow as he strips off his black tank.

You hum quietly in delight, the blond oblivious to your presence. He throws his top on the floor before unbuckling his belt (your favourite sound) and shimmying out of his jeans. He groans as he kicks his clothes into a crumpled pile in the corner.

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes glued to his rolling contours of muscle and exposed skin. His slight tan, those scars and veins all for your enjoyment. Your heart rate picks up and tingles disperse throughout your body as your mind conjures the most unholy images of your shared night to come.

He hastily turns off the bedroom light and flops into bed, grumbling something about hero rankings. You wait until he’s settled beneath the blankets, drifting in a dreamless consciousness, to make your move.

You creep out of the wardrobe and tiptoe to his huge window. Moonlight pours into the room, illuminating a half-asleep Katsuki. The blue glow settles on his face, making him look ethereal, even with that small crease in his brow.

Bobbing down, you rustle the curtains. He stirs instantly, causing a smirk to rise to your lips. You knew he was a light sleeper due to his line of work. Always ready for a threat, he sits up, scrunching then rubbing his ruby eyes. They look iridescent in the low lighting. You brush your hand through the curtains again, drawing his shrewd gaze.

He blinks wearily, trying to discern whether something was there or if he was really losing it. You’re lost to the dark crevices between his bed and side table. He stares at the window for a moment before grunting and crashing back down, throwing the blankets over him.

You crawl to the edge of his bed, grinning from ear to ear. Your eyes feast upon his figure, making out all of his limbs. You lean down and pinch his toes with precision. He shouts and sits up, his pretty eyes wide as he stares at you in shock. A winged creature, beautiful, dangerous, and in the skimpiest little clothes.

You giggle, enjoying his gaze. He shakes his head and stares at you, questioning if this is all a dream. You grab his ankles and tug at them, dragging him partway down the bed.

He shrieks, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” The blond claws at his sheets as you release him. He quickly moves into a low crouch with his hands outstretched. The pale light catches the beads of sweat dotting his palms. You smirk.

He shouts, “WHAT’S GOING ON?! HOW’D YOU GET IN HERE?!” You place your pointer finger on your lips, shushing him. He glares at you as you sway your hips, slowly walking to his side of the bed.

“DON’T COME NEAR ME, FREAK!” He shuffles back, afraid of what you might do if you come too close. You giggle as you place your knee on the mattress, sitting down so the slit of your skirt shows off your thigh’s tender flesh.

You pout, “Freak?” Cocking your brow, you say smugly, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You lean forward, both hands pressing into the blankets as you approach him.

“I’LL PUT YOU ON YOUR ASS!” He yells at you, small sparks flaring from his palms. With lightning speed, you launch at him. Your soft body slams into his hard one, pushing him down onto the bed. He shouts in fright at the force; you pin his wrists by the sides of his head. You hum playfully, revelling in the sight of his eyes blown wide and jaw slack.

You coo, “What’s wrong, Katsuki?” His chest heaves, a contrast to your steady breathing. He groans as his gaze accidentally drops to your full chest. Fuck. Why did you have to look so delectable?

You lick your lips, ready to devour him whole. You lean down, pressing your chest against his while your lips ghost his ear. You nibble on his ear lobe, earning a choked-up sound from him.

He grumbles, “The fuck you think you’re doin’?” He knows he could probably throw you off. I mean, he is a foot taller than you and a literal wall of muscle. But he’s paralysed. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t move. Not a single inch without your command.

You whisper teasingly, “Aren’t you gonna put me on my ass?” He tenses up as you let go of his wrists, your hands stroking down his forearms. You squeeze them, groaning in his ear, “These drive me insane.” Your grip then shifts to his biceps. “And these,” you exhale hungrily.

He gulps as your hands slide to his bare pecs, your fingers circling his hard nipples. You suck on the sensitive spot beneath his ear, eliciting a groan as you pinch his nipples. You pull back with a sloppy sound and admire the fresh red mark you’ve left on his skin.

Your eyes find his as your hands slide up and wrap around his neck. You feel his Adam’s apple bob beneath your stroking thumbs. Giggling, you apply the lightest pressure and observe as Katsuki’s breath stammers.

He mutters, “Whaddya doin’ now, woman?”

You click your tongue at him, tutting low, “Don’t use that tone with me, baby.” He rolls his eyes at you. Fuckin brat. You grab his chin harshly with one hand, your long, cherry-red nails pressing into his cheeks. You tilt his head back, his lips parting just how you want them to.

Keeping a firm grip on his throat, you lean forward and brush your lips against his. You state against them, “You should know better than to sass me, Katsuki. I am a demon after all.”

Hearing your words, he lets out the quietest little whimper; music to your ears. You smirk against his full lips, “That’s it, honey. Now open up for me.” He’s obedient, letting you tip his head back and part his lips just as you requested.

Katsuki swears his heart misses a beat as you spit in his mouth. He stares at you, eyes dark as the clouds shadow the moon, unmoving. Your saliva spreads like wildfire across his tongue, so sweet. And as you push his mouth closed, he has no choice but to swallow it.

You praise him, “Look at you, being such a good boy for me, huh?” He opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape. Because there are no words.

He’s never been treated like this before. Never had a woman take control like this. His mind is racing just like his heartbeat, an anomaly in the quiet calm of the night. You chuckle before pressing your lips to his, kissing him tenderly. Your lips are even sweeter, unlike anyone he’s ever tasted before. Your kiss provides him with much-needed clarity, while your wandering hands have blood rushing to his neck and ears… and other places, too.

He yearns to touch you, yet a phantom still pins his hands next to his head. He tries to move them, but he can’t. Frustrated, he gently nibbles your lip, causing you to pull back in surprise. Your lips are slightly swollen, and your gaze is soft, twinkling in the renewed moonlight. You look so sumptuous in these small strips of fabric that dare to be called clothes.

You coo, “What is it, Katsuki?” You thumb the crease in his brow as you lean back down, your lips caressing his. “What’s got you all worked up?” You say far too innocently.

He huffs, “You do.” And now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

You exhale, “Well, obviously.” Your gaze flickers to his lips for a moment before you continue, “It’s something else, though, isn’t it?” You kiss him once more, hoping that’ll soothe his nerves. But it seems to have the opposite effect. He grumbles into your mouth, “Fuckin’ pervert. Comin’ into my room, pinnin’ me down like this—”

You chomp on his bottom lip, making him yelp. He curses, “Like a fuckin’ piranha you are!” You chuckle, sitting back on his hips. Your mouth makes the cutest ‘O’ shape as you feel his bulge poking into your ass. You rock slightly on it, and Katsuki groans in response.

Your hands splay on his strong chest as you slowly grind your core against his hard-on through his trunks. You moan as his clothed tip brushes against your bare clit. You remark, “Already leaking for me, huh?”

He grunts, “Shut up.” You can see his flush and the red tips of his ears. It looks good on him. Really good.

You smirk, “You like that, baby?” You press down harder on him, earning you a delicious moan.

He chokes out, “G-get fucked!” Bakugou Katsuki, stuttering? In the past six months you’ve been watching him, he’s never stuttered. Not once. Not as he stubbed his toe. Not as he stitched his own wounds together because he’s stubborn shit who refuses to go to the hospital. Not even as his ultimate rival (and now “friend”), Deku, announced that he would be getting married before Katsuki could find a fucking girlfriend.

You giggle as you lean forward, seductively dragging your lower lip up his chest till you kiss his jaw. All the while still grinding on him. You purr in his ear, “Believe me, I’m trying to,” as you press your soaking entrance against the growing wet patch on his underwear. A groan is torn from his chest. It’s so yummy, you savor it.

As you lift your chest from his, you catch his wild eyes. They’re frantic, and his pupils are nice and big. You chuckle, the sound ringing in his ears.

He utters, “C-can I touch you?” You stop moving, half on his body, your clit against his heavy balls. You tilt your head to the side, watching the sea of emotions churning in his eyes.

You coo, “What was that?” You angle your ear toward him as he clears his throat. He hesitates, disdain filling him up at the thought of repeating himself. Of making such a desperate request.

He mumbles, “Can I touch you? Please.” He adds that last part as an afterthought. You hum as you lower your chest back to his, your noses brushing.

You stare at him dead on as you say cockily, “Do you think you deserve it?” He’s gagged by your words. Every muscle in his jaw has ceased to work as he tries to comprehend your words.

Eventually, he stutters, “D-do I? Of course I do I-I…” You slightly suck in your cheeks and pout your lips, thoroughly unimpressed by his answer.

You say bluntly, “That’s not good enough.” You cross the empty space between your lips, whispering against his, “Beg for it.” As you pull away, you can’t help the smirk curling on your lips from his doe eyes looking up at you; those soft kissable lips parted and so damn tempting.

You chuckle as you thumb his bottom lip, “Come on, honey. You do wanna touch me, don’t you?” He licks his lips, the tip of his pink tongue brushing your finger. You lean back down, grazing your noses softly as he takes a shaky breath in and inhales your sugary, velvety musk.

He closes his eyes as he exhales, “Please, let me—”

“Like you mean it, Katsuki,” you cut him off.

He grumbles, “I do mean it, fuckin’ hell!” Neither of you speaks for a few seconds. The only sounds permeating the silence are the distant honks of cars and the shaking of train tracks. He whines, “Please just-just let me feel you.”

You shrug, “Keep going.” He tries to avert his gaze from yours but he doesn’t have many options (your tits are the most appealing one).

He sighs heatedly, “It’s driving me fuckin’ insane not bein’ able to touch you. So please fuck, just let me.”

You like how pathetic looks on him. Giggling, you cup his cheeks and give him a chaste kiss.

“Maybe next time, Suki,” you chirp. “Can I call you that? Suki?” You tease him.

He grumbles, “Whatever,” as he watches you with lidded eyes pepper his jaw and neck with kisses. You work your way down to his pecs.

He moans shamefully as you take one of his nipples into your mouth and suck on the little peak. Your mouth is so hot, a welcome contrast to the cool night air. He wishes he could thread his hands through your hair, maybe tug on it— especially tug on it as you nibble on his nipple, causing him to cry out. You can’t help but feel cocky, his sounds spurring you on.

You latch onto his other nipple now, sucking it much harsher, which makes him curse beneath his breath. Your fingers play with the hard peak you can’t pleasure with your mouth, pinching and twisting, much to Katsuki’s (denied) delight.

Once you’re satisfied, you lick a strip up from the waistband of his trunks to his sternum. The blond can’t take his eyes off yours. You look so pretty like this, staring up at him all smiley. He notices just how long your tongue is, how it narrows with its length. He feels this overwhelming urge to kiss you. To have your tongue lapping at his own. To suck on it.

Your hands grip his ribcage and squeeze gently, more so to feel his bones than anything else. His heart rate picks up once more as you kiss each rung before easing down his abs to his underwear. Your fingers slide past the waistband and wrap around it before you yank them down with both hands. His cock spills out, hard and thick, with precum spewing down his length.

You chuckle, “Look at you, baby. So needy.” Katsuki frowns at your words, but the expression quickly fades as you wrap your hands around his cock and start firmly jerking him off. You spit on his tip, priding yourself in how your saliva drips down your fingers and mixes with fresh precum. You listen to his breaths grow more shallow and watch as his cock grows even harder in your grip.

You lower yourself down, face close to his length as you stroke it. After a few more jerks, you finally suck on his tip. His taste explodes all over your tongue like popping candy. That flavour. You moan, unable to hide how fucking good he tastes. You’ve been starving yourself for far too long, anxiously awaiting the moment you would have him in your mouth. And now that he is, you’re ravenous.

Slick oozes from your hole as you take more of his length into your mouth. Your eyes gaze up at him as you bob your head, your hands still working his shaft.

Katsuki starts to think he might be in love. Maybe the pleasure is getting to his head (it is), but you’re a sight for sore eyes. He’s drunk on the hollow of your cheeks, on your captivating eyes staring up at him, and on how magical your mouth feels. He swears he’s ascended to heaven from how pleasurable your mouth feels wrapped around his cock. He grunts as you deepthroat him, praying to the Lord for one chance. For one fucking chance to buck his hips and fuck your face.

He’s losing it, his eyes fluttering closed as you gag on him. He whimpers from that, the sound triggering even more arousal to slide down your inner thighs. You pull off his cock, just stroking it as you catch your breath.

You giggle, “Do you fuck mommy’s titties, Suki? I see you staring at them.”

He groans, “Ngh-no, no I don’t, mommy.”

You raise your brow at him, a teasing “Oh?” falling from your lips. “Is that right?” You tease. He nods frantically as if the last thing he wants you to do is titty fuck him. But you know better.

Sitting back on your haunches, you smooth your hair back and pull your little bralette to the side. Your breasts fall out and bounce together, making Katsuki spill even more pre-cum.

He grunts, “Fuck please, please don’t!”

“Why not?” You say sweetly, climbing off the bed to kneel on the floor. You grab his ankles once more and pull him toward you, making him cry out. You grab his cock and stroke it a couple more times before squishing your tits together around it. The softness of your breasts unleashes an unholy growl from his lips.

He grunts, “For fuck’s sake, I told you not to!”

With a creased brow, you retort, “Speak to me like that again and I’ll edge you until you’re crying, is that clear?”

The blond goes to grumble about how you can’t tell him what to do when suddenly, you glide your tits up his length. He hisses, silenced as you slide your chest down and then back up. The movement has Katsuki’s head tipping back, his lips parted as soft groans fall past them. Your soft skin, now wet from his cock, feels unreal. He can’t hold in his little cries for much longer.

You pant, “Look at me.” His body responds before he can, cock twitching and head snapping back to look down at you.

So perfect. You look so fucking perfect like this. On your knees with his cock between your tits.

You squeeze your breasts tighter around his length and start bouncing faster, making him whine uncontrollably. Never in his life did Katsuki think a woman would turn him into a mewling mess, but here you are, doing exactly that. And as frustrating as this whole situation is, he wouldn’t have it any other way. At least, not for tonight.

He can feel himself nearing his end, his cock twitching more and more violently as the seconds pass. You’re aware of just how close he’s getting. A grin is plastered across your face as he whimpers loudly, “Fuck mommy! Fuck ‘m gonna cum.”

You purr as you press your breasts even harder into his length, “Then cum f’me, baby. All over my tits.” That’s all it takes. His cum spurts all over your chest, the hot ropes searing into your skin as he groans loud.

Katsuki’s lying on clouds, watching the birds whirl past him with a drink in hand. Bliss. Pure blinding bliss as he rides out his orgasm. But his pleasure soon turns to stinging pain as you show no intention of stopping.

He whimpers, “Please-fuck, please, mommy, I’m done.”

“Be a good boy for mommy and take it, yea?” You coo, your tits still squeezing his length up and down, milking every last drop from him. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from how overstimulated his cock is right now. He tries to tough it out and suck them back in like a man. But his body betrays him again as a few tears slip down his cheeks.

The soft lighting catches on those small streams, and you stop moving once you see them. Pulling back, you admire his work. You don’t try to wipe his cum off as you fix your bralette. You let it rest there, wearing his seed like a badge of honour.

Slowly, you stand up. You’re eye-to-eye, watching each other intently as the tension between you crackles and flares. What’s next? You wonder. You raise one of your hands to your mouth and make a show of licking his cum off your fingers. You see stars behind your eyelids as you taste it. A guttural moan tears up your throat. This is what you’ve been living for. What you’ve been craving for centuries. No one has ever tasted as good as he does.

Fuck.

Your slick has dripped down to your knees and your clit pulses with need. But you can’t fulfil those desires. Not tonight. Because for a split second there, you wanted to climb into his lap and brush his tears away and then shed some of your own. You wanted to cling to him as you tell him you’ve never felt this way about anyone else before.

But that’s not what succubi do.

In the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Katsuki stretches his hands out to where you were standing, confused and sombre. He calls for you, but he doesn’t even know your name. His voice is strangled as he yells into the darkness, ordering you to come back. Pleading for you to come back.

For the rest of the night, Katsuki questions whether that was real or not. But when he wakes up the next morning with the darkest, ugliest hickey he’s ever had, he knows that he’s been visited by a demon.

you ate so hard with this!!! thank you for your struggles i love it🥹🥹🥹

hey dolly, idk if you're still doing the moodboards reqs but is it okay if i still request one???🫣

i love denki ahhhh. like muscle mommy gentle femdom + denki arf arf arf. colour scheme like pink n red or yellow. whatever fits idm.

no specific fic inspo, he just calls you mommy and you make him beg for it😁.

i loved your other moodboards omg!! you really ate with the touya moodboard on your original post. mwah thank you!

awe thank u!! pink + red it is, hope its okai c:

making moodboards for u!!

but eijiro as your gym crush and he helps you do those fuck ass bulgarian split squats like the manliest man he is.

it was another day at the gym. you usually go around midday when it’s the quietest, so you can focus solely on your workout. yea, that’s the only reason why. not because of a certain tall, handsome, muscular, red-haired sweetie pie you’re totally crushing on. i mean, not crushing on, obviously. ahem.

you gulp as your eyes find the pump of his biceps while he curls them with ungodly large dumbbells. you’re not ovulating. but seeing how fucking juicy those muscles look, especially in that forbidden muscle tee, you might as well be. the low lighting casts shadows that play hide and seek in the crevices of his arms and veins.

you gaze down, bright red spreading across your cheeks as you internally scold yourself for checking him out. an innocent man, just tryna get through his workout. as you’re tryna get through yours. shit! was that four or six? you do three more reps, just in case. you lick your sweaty lips while wiping your nape, unceremoniously rolling out of the leg press.

little did you know that the redhead you’re crushing on has had his soft eyes trained on you in the mirror for the entirety of his set.

a light blush dusts his cheeks, flattered by your excessive staring (but he’ll blame it on lifting so heavy). he sees the fitting booty shorts you’ve got on today, a stark contrast to the sweatpants or flares you usually wear. the curve of your muscles, the way they’re visible as you stand up, your quads and glutes looking so plump — he can feel the saliva pooling in his mouth.

you grab your towel and drink bottle before heading to the benches, right where your gym crush is placing down his dumbbells. your heart beats rapidly in your chest, your face heating up even more as you walk to the opposite end of the dumbbell rack and grab a pair of 4kgs. returning to your bench, you exchange a smile and a small wave with him.

you place your foot in the centre of the bench and start your set of bulgarian split squats, trying to ignore his presence just a couple of benches over. you train your eyes on the spot in front of you, willing yourself to keep a straight spine. but as you hear him grunt, you can’t help but gaze up.

your redhead’s doing shoulder presses. your favourite. you bite your lip as you drive your hips forward, ogling at every flex of his muscles, especially those veiny forearms and hands. fuck! you keep losing track of your reps. you add on an extra two but lose your balance as you’re coming back up.

awkwardly, you hop forward on one leg, dropping the dumbbell as you try to centre yourself. your sudden loss of composure doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone.

as you pick up the dumbbell and chuck it on the bench, he softly calls to you, “hey, are you okay?” you whip around and gaze up, looking into his crimson eyes. for a second, you forget to breathe, in awe of his beauty. he has such a nice jawline and cheekbones, and those long eyelashes are too kill for. you could swoon at any moment.

you stutter as you point at yourself pathetically, “m-me?” he nods, grinning warmly.

“yea. you had a bit of fall. are you feeling alright? do you need a hand or?” he stretches his hand out to you as if to steady you but you’re already steady. on the outside that is. on the inside, you’ve become a swirling mess of half-finished sentences and pounding heartbeats. you stare at his calloused and scarred palm, blood rushing to your cheeks.

you mutter, “o-oh no. that’s okay. i’m fine. um, yea thank you. thanks for checking up on me.” you slowly meet his eyes once more. he shakes his head, still smiling wide with those sharp teeth. they’re kinda cute, you think.

he says, “you don’t have to thank me. it’s my duty as a man to make sure you’re okay.” you blink at him dumbly as you chuckle, taken aback by this sentiment. he continues, “can i give you some pointers?”

your eyes widen as you utter, “y-yea, sure!” you watch as he shifts slightly closer to grab the dumbbells and demonstrate a few things you need to be mindful of.

as you listen, you’re torn between interpreting this as a mansplain or a helpful explanation. but as he continues on and answers your questions about form, you decide that indeed, he is just trying to help you.

as you try his technique, he stands there, observing your movements and gently guiding you to do better. shivers run up and down your spine as he carefully grips your shoulders, angling your body more forward to shift the focus of the split squat onto your glutes, rather than your quads.

by the end of his mini pt session, you’re feeling more confident about this movement than you are about your future. grinning, you chirp, “thanks for your help! i really appreciate it.” you stretch your hand out as you introduce yourself, “my name’s y/n, by the way.”

his much larger hand envelops yours as he shakes it firmly. you take note of how he doesn’t squeeze the life out of your hand. instead, he just holds it, not too tightly or too loosely. your heart stammers. “eijiro,” he smirks.

“eijiro,” you repeat, feeling his name in your mouth, tasting it and memorising the flavour for weeks to come. you exhale, “it’s nice to finally talk to you. i’ve seen you around a lot.”

“yea,” he chuckles.

you ask him, “so, what do you do for work?”

his jaw slackens and his short brows raise as he stammers, “uh just, you know, the usual.”

you giggle in disbelief, “the usual?” you’ve since let go of each other’s hands. now, he rubs the back of his neck, his eyes averted to one of the nearby squat racks. he’s thinking about how to tell you he’s a pro hero without telling you he’s a pro hero.

“i, uh, work in the justice system,” he mutters. your features soften with a sense of knowing.

you grin, “oh, the justice system? i see. that’s pretty cool. must take a toll on you, huh?” you gently elbow his arm, finding it to be much harder than you were expecting.

he laughs nervously, licking his lips before saying, “yea, it can sometimes. but i wouldn’t have it any other way.” just then, his phone rings obnoxiously in his pocket. he gives you apologetic eyes as he pulls it out. reading the name lighting up the screen, he hastily answers while giving you a thumbs up and walking off.

while you’re grabbing your gym bag, you bump into each other again. he apologises, sheepishly remarking how unmanly that was of him to take a phone call mid-conversation. you shrug it off and reassure him it’s fine, even suggesting he can make it up to you with a coffee date. he enthusiastically agrees and you two exchange numbers, intent on arranging a time soon.

you stride out of the gym with the biggest grin plastered on your lips and scream like a teenage girl once you shut your car door. for the rest of the day, you’re in a good mood, all because of the ten minutes you spent talking to this one man. your future man.

a/n: SEARCHING for a gym crush rn but I workout in the morning with all the millennial moms and dads and oldies😔 love all of you but why can't guys my age workout in the morning😭😭😭

hellooooo i am feeling very uninspired so if you have any ideas or requests pls send them my way.

i'm also thinking about doing a dekusquad version (izu, sho, tenya; maybe ochako n asui idk) of 'their omega' so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in. i might put out a poll later if there's enough interest.

i feel like shoto would be that one kid who's allergic to everything. like that one kid who refuses to eat your bday cupcakes cause he's gluten-free, lactose intolerant, egg-free, peanut-free, wool chafes his skin, and only drinks milk warm.

and shoot me but i think he's got a bit of tism. like a little bit or am i misreading him? obvs like not picking up on social cues n his need for structure and routines. idk not really a hot take but a take.

after he proposed, you became a stay-at-home fiancé. and now, you’re getting into your ✨baking era✨.

you’ve been waiting for the bananas to get just ripe enough to make banana bread. the other day, when your beloved reached for one of those golden arches, you panicked and yelled at him to put it down.

shoto's beautiful eyes went so wide and his jaw slack as he took in the wild sight you were. he merely chuckled and placed the banana back in the fruit bowl as you ran over to him from your spot on the couch, apologising for raising your voice and reassuring him that his abstinence was for the good of your future baked treat.

you remember his sacrifice as you pour wholemeal flour into a large bowl and mix it with cinnamon and baking powder. you had a cute little apron on; the one you sewed from the vintage fabric shoto bought you for your birthday.

you hum softly as you mash the bananas in a separate bowl before adding the whisked eggs and vanilla extract. you’re determined to make him the best banana bread ever!

the sweet aroma fills the apartment as you rest your feet on the coffee table, allowing your creation to come to life in the oven. you check the time and sigh with relief as you calculate that you’ve still got an hour before shoto finishes patrol and retires to his agency to finish the banana bread.

once it’s golden brown, you take it out of the oven. you squeal in delight, seeing the swirly pattern you made with cinnamon and walnuts perfected. you let the banana bread cool for a good half an hour before taking it out of the pan, cutting it into thick slices, and popping a few in a container. you make sure to pack some butter, almond butter (his fav), and honey before leaving the apartment.

after getting off the train, you walk to his agency. you greet the receptionist who informs you that your hero just got back. with a ‘thank you!’, you take the elevator to the top floor.

you gently knock on his office door and push it open as you hear him call out from inside. he gazes at you with tender, mismatched eyes as you enter, shaking the banana bread container from side to side with excitement. 

you chirp, “i made you some banana bread, honey!” he hums as you walk further into the room. he’s got papers stacked in the corner of his desk and a mellow smile on his full lips as always. you pull up a chair and sit across from him, popping open the lid and letting the smell curl deliciously in the cold air. you fish around in your bag for the paper plates, cutlery, and toppings you brought. after setting them down in the middle of his wooden desk, you scoop him out a slice.

he mutters, “looks good, darling.”

you gaze at him, quirking a brow as you grin, “yea?” he hums and thanks you quietly as you push the plate toward him. he happily listens to you yap away as he spreads almond butter on his slice.

seeing you struggle to spread the butter across your slice, he gently takes the little container from your hands and heats it in his palm before buttering it for you. your heart melts as the butter does into the baked good while you watch him swipe the knife on the crust, getting all of that sweet-saltiness onto your treat.

you two eat quietly, just basking in each other’s presence. shoto breaks the silence with a quiet moan followed by, “this is really nice, babe. still warm.” you nod enthusiastically, overjoyed to hear his praise.

you giggle, “i made it just for you.” he looks at you, eyes full of love and cheekies full of yummy goodness. following a gulp, he licks his pink lips and thumbs the corner of yours, claiming you were a bit messy (you were, really). your heart spikes as he brings his pale thumb back to his lips, sucking off the disobedient butter.

it pains you to leave him, all glowy in the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, left to his mountain of reports and paperwork. but, he promises you that he’ll be home soon enough. after all, he can’t keep his hands off his beautiful fiancé for long.

why do y'all assume that virgins are innocent? as a fellow virgin... i know stuff. i clearly don't have experience with others but i know how it works. and like i'm pretty sure that virgins have done some wack sexual things by themselves cause they haven't done those things with anyone else... or is that just me?

i'm tired of all these fics with a virgin reader where the male lead is like "this is your clit and if i do this, then it feels good". yes, sir, i'm aware of what the CLITORIS is, where it is, and what it does. i'm not a child. you do know that i'm not a child, right?

idk that's what it's giving idk.

i need to write a fic now about "impure" virgin reader if you will x bakugou or some hottie. i hate the concept of purity i really do. and i hate this idea of virginity being "taken", specifically through penetrative sex.

you're not "taking" anything from me because i'm not an object. you can't have my virginity it's not yours.

virginity, in my opinion, is about a lack of sexual experience. it's going to look different for everyone. of course, once you've had sexual experiences then you're no longer a virgin and that's fine. like you don't need to be a virgin to be worthy of love from a man. and if a man cares about how many men you've slept with then he's not a man he's a piece of shit.

like if you're not a heterosexual, your first sexual experiences might not look like penetrative sex and that's okay. why is it that virgin sex fics focus so much on the act of penetration as the key divider between being a virgin and not? it's not that straightforward. and it doesn't matter that much, in my opinion (i'm clearly not religious).

istg if i read another smut where the reader is referred to as a 'cumdump' i'm gonna lose my marbles.

fanfic authors, wtf? i've never heard of anything less sexy than a fictional man referring to me as a 'cumdump'.

worst one yet has to be the 'cumrag'. i should just refer to myself as a 'cumcan' (formerly, trash can) or 'creampit' from now on. even those sound better than 'cumdump' ffs.

i know some people like degradation, and if you enjoy being referred to as a 'cumdump' then be my guest. but, why is it that when a man is supposed to be mean to his female sexual partner, we gotta start using the most outrageous terms like those aforementioned.

'my little slut' is great. it's functional. we get the picture. i don't see the need for innovation.

it's like referring to eyes as 'orbs' or 'irises'. or dicks as 'meat sticks' or 'firm virile sausages'. you're welcome to get creative with your derogatory terms, but please don't.

imagine katsuki’s reaction to bunny fem!reader being clingy after sex.

he’s taking you from behind, his tip hitting that perfect spot inside of you. at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum.

as you feel that familiar tightening in your tummy, your moans become strangled.

katsuki groans with each rough thrust, “fuck—c’mon on, baby. c’mon on. cum f’me.” your moans reach a crescendo, building until you’re whimpering and shaking. your short nails dig hard enough into your palms to leave little marks.

you fall forward, face down on the bed, with your knees bent toward you. you're mewling from the pleasure your boyfriend’s cock ignites in you.

he rocks forward with you, your hips glued together and fluffy tail fluttering against his abs as he releases into you. he can’t help it (and he's stopped trying to), especially not when you’re clenching around him so tight.

the twitching of his cock and loud moans only make you tremble and whimper harder. your orgasm lasts longer than usual, little cries still escaping your lips as katsuki slowly draws out of your sopping cunt.

he rasps, “i’ll be back in a minute, baby.”

your eyes widen as you half push yourself up and twist back to look at him. you exclaim, “no!”

he’s got one leg off the bed when he stops, staring at you slack-jawed.

he quickly regains his composure, grinning, “i’ll just be a minute, doll—“

“no!” you grab his forearm and whimper as you pull yourself up onto your knees, edging closer to him.

seeing how shaky you are, katsuki climbs back onto the bed and wraps his arms around you. he tugs you into his chest, leaning to the side for a moment so he can wipe his sweaty palms on a pillow before stroking your long, floppy ears and hair.

he grumbles, “what’s gotten into you, brat?” you wince at the name and his tone, whimpering softly as you squeeze him tighter.

you mumble into his sweat-soaked neck, “please. need you.” you pull back and gaze at him, your eyes glassy.

katsuki’s heart misses a beat. all of a sudden, it’s like he can’t breathe. seeing his little girl all emotional and so damn cute has him in a chokehold.

he nods and lets you pull him down onto the bed with you. he holds you close and manoeuvres you so you’re lying together with your legs entangled.

your arms around around his neck as you press your tits against his (d^2 cup btw).

you sniffle, “need you ch-chest to chest, s-suki.” any cocky remark he usually would have cooked up is long gone as he holds you.

your body shudders as you sob into your boyfriend. he yanks the blankets up to your chin before running his fingers up and down your spine beneath them.

his eyes go wide as he feels the cocktail of his and your cum dripping onto his meaty thigh; the exact thing he was trying to prevent.

he grumbles, “yer makin’ a mess, bunny.” (shoot me the nickname is appropriate for the context it’s cute in my opinion if you don’t like it then scroll). his comment only makes you cry harder, a choked up “sorry” escaping your lips.

he draws you impossibly closer, earning a yelp from you as his wet thigh brushes your swollen clit.

“suki!” he kisses your soft ear, mumbling an apology into it.

after a few minutes, you calm down. sniffling, you pull back to gaze at him. your pretty eyes meet his as you stutter thickly, “p-please don’t le-leave me.”

katsuki’s brows knit together as he opens his mouth to tell you off for thinking he would ever consider it. but hearing your little whine from his scowl and seeing your cute little red nose twitching, he softens.

he sighs as one of his large hands pushes your face back into the crook of his neck. he mumbles into your hair, “'m not goin’ anywhere, alright?”

you whimper, “suki—"

he grumbles, “i mean it.” exhaling deeply, he says more gently this time, “i mean it, baby. ‘m not gonna leave you. nothing can ever take me away you, yea? ‘m all yours.”

you nod, your small palms pressed against his nape. you lean back and draw him into a delicate kiss.

katsuki whispers sweet praises and reassurances into your ear, making you feel safe and secure. after cuddling for a while, he coaxes you into letting him clean you up before you two fall asleep together.

a/n: i'm pretty sure this has been done before, but i hope you still like it!

bless me father for i have sinned😏 this fic was far too scrumptious i can't recommend it enough!

✞ Forgive me For I have Sinned ✞

✞ Pairings: Priest Gojo x Fem Reader

✞ Word count - 5.7k

✞ Content/Warnings- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul <3 NSFW, sacrilegious, confessional fucking, rosaries as bondage, lots of filling you w/love and light, oral (both receiving) fingering, explicit church sex, reader is a lil bimbo and innocent fr, Gojo has a HELL of a God complex (canon tbh) overall kinky asf

A/N- Booking the tix to hell-who's coming with!? I based off this drabble of mine: Priest! Gojo (you can read it first if you want!) Reader and Gojo are in their mid 20s. Enjoy!

It was hot outside, a scorching summer day, the type that made you want to jump in an icy cool lake naked, but in the sanctuary of this pristine church which is kept rather cool, you still have a drip of sweat beading down your collarbone. You’re wearing a pretty red summer dress, your little hat right next to you in the pew, as you watch him with avid attention.

Father Satoru Gojo.

The entire church is in love with him, enamored by him, there are admiring whispers even amongst the most vigilant catholics, the ones who would judge you for coming not in your Sunday best. They hid it well enough, acting as if they only cared so much because his sermons were so powerful, because he was so young and profound already.

But you know better, and they know better deep down, that Father Gojo was just gorgeous, a face chiseled to perfection, tall and broad shouldered, swoon worthy by all accounts. His husky voice and insane presence that shines brilliantly like a million diamonds certainly helps, but his face itself is so pretty it’s angelic.

When he looks at you with those brilliant blue eyes, swirling like a moody storm, all glittery behind those snowy white lashes? Well you feel…

You’re going to hell.

Last night you’d had this insane dream of him, where he has asked you to serve him on your knees, just as he would offer that eucharist and wine to you, but instead it’s his cum you’re swallowing. And you’re a good, God fearing girl, so, you certainly should not do or think of such things! And worst of all, with your priest, Father Gojo. He has vows too, yet you’d committed much sin already.

Just last night you’d awakened throbbing, having dreamt of pleasuring him, on your knees before him, and you’d been soaking wet and dripping down your shorts, even the sheet had a wet spot. You’d rubbed your swollen little clit in circles, gasping and arching your back, feeling fevered as you committed such sins, as picturing Father Gojo had you climaxing all over your own fingers.

You’d been so ashamed this morning! You’d splashed cold water on your face, staring at yourself in your mirror, shivering as the cool water dripped down your skin, knowing you should stay home, find some new church. You are full of impure thoughts and sin, and it’s all because of him, how could you confide in him that you feel this way, think this way?

What would he do if he knew? Cast you out or…

Stop it.

But as you’re crossing your legs, shifting your hips, you see Satoru Gojo’s full, pouty lips part, his eyes directly on you. You pause then, eyes wide, you must be imagining it, your sin surely is carrying over too far… but you test it, crossing your legs once more, and sure enough, his eyes follow your legs up, between your thighs, surely seeing your panties.

That gives you a fucking thrill you can’t describe, as does him licking his thumb, going to another page as he continues his sermon, women all over are fanning themselves, enamored by him. But perhaps none so much as you, picturing what’s under that cassock, under those white robes he wears, what that long, lithe body would feel like against yours.

You imagine your dream vividly later when he’s giving you the eucharist, placing the biscuit on your tongue as you hold your mouth open on your knees, then you see it, the hunger mirrored in his eyes. You tremble when he brushes a thumb over your lower lip, and your eyes drift to his lap, where you clearly see he’s hard. You gulp it down, looking up at him and taking the wine now.

Father Gojo looks down at you, white hair falling over a brow, finding your beautiful eyes are affecting him as much as your stance on your knees, his thumb finds your chin now, imagining shoving his cock between perfect lips. Surely, you are here to tempt him, to ruin him, you are sin itself, haunting his dreams, making him hard in the middle of church, right in his own service.

You look at it then, his cock under the cassock that’s becoming too tight, before licking your lip, eyes back up to his hungrily. You look like such a good girl, but your eyes tell another story, a story of wanting to get fucked hard, to be filled by him, wanting to have his cum all over your pretty face. He imagines that as the wine drips down your lips now.

Fuck he’s going to hell if he stays around you, surely even he has rules to uphold even if he certainly is God’s chosen. But… perhaps since he is God's chosen, it’s his duty to help a little sinful girl like you. And as you rise, holding his hand, and your breasts brush against his chest, you’re far too close, he vividly pictures yanking them out of that dress, tempting him to no end.

Of course you ask for confessional, and he’s dying at the thought of being so close to you, when all he thinks of is how good you look, how good you smell, and he is left to wonder, do you taste that good? Your pretty neck, your delicate collarbone, your pussy? Surely he should not think such things, but as he looks at you through the lattice of the confessional separating you both, he cannot stop his mind.

“Father Gojo… I fear my confession is most wicked.” Comes your breathy little voice, only serving to make Father Gojo’s thick length harden, picturing what your little moans must sound like when properly fucked.

“Go on, my pr- my child, you may tell me anything.” He says, coughing a bit, because he’d rather call you a pretty little slut, and he has no clue why the devil likes to try him so hard. It’s all your fault, truly. Pretty little thing.

“Okay… but…” You take a breath. “I have dreams of someone fucking me, someone I should not.” You say nervously, and watch him shift in his seat, you can smell his cologne so much in here, making you thirst more for him.

“It’s natural to have thoughts, my child.”

“No, Father Gojo… I’m playing with myself, thinking of him. Of… sucking him, or of him laying on top of me.” You hear Father Gojo making a choking sound, and you panic. “I’m so sorry! I…”

“Ahem, no, no… continue.” Father Gojo’s cock is straining, he can already feel precum sticking to his tip, picuring you touching your pussy, he bets it’s so pretty, bet it tastes so-

Sinful girl, aren’t you?

Surely that’s all this is, not… him wanting to sin! Father Satoru Gojo certainly is perfect, he’s God’s perfect creature, so if he wants this, it must be on you. Sin in a perfect little body with a perfect little face, and a voice that drives him to utter distraction. Surely, Father Gojo must try to save you.

“Father, I cannot stop thinking of him, he’s in all my dreams. What should my penance be, how many hail marys?”

Father Gojo has to stroke himself to adjust his huge, throbbing cock now, as he watches you through the lattice, biting your full lower lip, your head falling back, hair cascading. Hair he wants to pull as he fucks you from behind, making you arch your back to take more of his cock.

“I have to ask how you’re doing it… so that I can tell you your penance, so that I may try to save you.” He says, husky now, and you whimper softly, shifting on the bench, your pussy throbbing around nothing, picturing his cock filling you.

“How I do it, Father Gojo?”

“Yes, it’s… important to confess.”

“Well, I take my fingers, and I find my pussy with them, I roll them around my clit over and over, I get so wet that they slip- Father are you okay?” Satoru can’t stand it, he’s stroking his bare cock under his robes, resting his head against the wall, struggling not to cry out as he’s pumping.

“Ahem… indeed I am. So you finger your little pussy then?” At his words you’re a blushing mess, breaths coming more rapidly, your hands gripping the bench, dying for friction as you’re soaking your panties.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you slip your fingers in?”

“I… no! Um… no.”

“And you cum?”

“I… yes. I do cum. Imagining him.” You’re watching those robes rise and fall, then you know it, Father Gojo is stroking his cock right next to you.

“I see… I think I can help alleviate some of this, perhaps give you some guidance so that you do not afflict yourself so.” You want to touch yourself now, when you hear those breathy pants, your fingers clinging to the lattice.

“Yes, father, I need your guidance.” Cock, fingers, mouth… fuck you’re a full sinner, aren’t you!?

“Then come here, let us have our first attempt at saving you.”

Now you’re standing in front of him in the itty bitty room, face to face with Satoru Gojo, your Priest, and fuck if your nipples don’t tighten up, if your tummy isn’t clenching with desire. You’re nervously fiddling with your hands as he leans back, spreading his long legs as wide as they can in the tight quarters, his glittering blue eyes dilated as he licks his lips, making them glossy.

“You must show me how, and do not fret, sweet girl, it’s through god’s will of course, through me.” Father Gojo says, your breaths come faster as you slip up your sundress, and his eyes hungrily drink the sight of your bare thighs in. He leans forward, sliding those panties down, eyeing your glistening cunt now, his breath almost hitting it, making you jerk.

“Father… I cannot show you…”

“You can, I am here to help, have no fear.” He notices you’ve drenched your panties, a wet spot formed, sticky little strands of your arousal apparent as he pulls them down, hands touching the smooth skin of your thighs.

You put your hand on your pussy now, the other nervously holding up your dress, and you run your fingers in circles on your clit, crying out softly, as he lets out a low, guttural moan. You’re getting wetter as you play, as his large, sexy hands clench, the veins popping up out of the thin skin, and you’re trembling, imagining his long fingers working you instead.

Satoru is close to cumming as he watches your pretty face, your brows drawing together, your lips parted, eyes so dilated your pupils are taking over, just a thin ring of your iris left. Your lashes are lowered, and his hand stops yours now, as it’s playing with your soppy little cunt, you tremble before him.

“I see, I must help you, guide you. To get this… affliction taken care of. Yes?” You nod eagerly, then Father Gojo pulls you to his lap, and you’re straddling him, your hands sliding up to feel his strong shoulders under his robe, and he is touching your pussy instead, making you whimper. “Need me to save you, pretty little sinner?”

“Please save me. Please. Ah!” Satoru sinks two long fingers deep inside your eager little entrance, you gasp at it as he slips into your gummy walls, drippy and so tight. He’s paused, moaning and looking right into your eyes, you drown in his blue gaze, as your cunt drools down his hand. “Father Gojo… please…”

“Begging for it, are you? So tight, it’s so… have you had anything inside this perfect little pussy?” He huffs, feeling how you’re squeezing his fingers, then he hits some spot that makes you see stars, pumping up and down over and over. You cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. “Answer me, be a good girl for once, would you?”

Good girl for once.

There’s no hope for you.

“Nothing… no one… just you, Father Gojo. Mmm!” You’re covering your mouth as he keeps pumping, and he moans, dreaming of breaking you in all the ways he could, taking your innocence for himself. It’s surely what god is wanting, and who is he but god’s disciple himself? He thrusts those fingers knuckles deep, watching you fall apart over him.

“There, you’re loving this, fingers stretching your pussy, don’t you?” You nod weakly, gushing down his hand, you can hear the squishing wetness of your pussy as he now slides a thumb, rolling it over your clit.

“F-father Gojo!”

“Sinful girl.” He huffs, as you’ve buried your face against his neck, rocking against his hand, those long fingers fucking you so good it’s painful, moaning.

“Mmm! Father Gojo, I will… be good… for you…”

“Will you?” You nod weakly, as Satoru rolls your clit expertly, and you feel the pressure building, you’re panting, ready to combust. “I feel it, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, hips grinding, now you’re soaking his robes, he’s picturing sliding his cock inside you, breaking you, until your sins are cleansed, and you’re picturing him taking you, defiling you in every way your hectic mind can picture. Both of you are about to cum, you’re not even touching Satoru though, you want to, fuck you want to.

“Close, m’close… p-please…” You’re begging for release, seeing stars as he works your now sloppy cunt.

“I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.” He urges you on, bringing you higher and higher with those long, slick fingers.

“Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!” You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes.

“Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you.” He whispers, and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, pressing up so deep. You’re gushing so much arousal, he can smell your sweet scent, as you scream out into your little hand, shaking.

Satoru is now sliding his fingers out, you whine, wanting more, especially when he is sucking your juices off his fingers, making you gasp. His cheeks hollow, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, breaths making you quicken, your heart pounding in your ears as you try to come down.

Your thighs are trembling over him, entire body lit up from cumming so hard, his snowy lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, before fluttering up, looking at you, your arousal coating his lips. “Oh my God.”

More sinning.

“You’re not being a very good girl.” He admonishes, but then his lips quirk up. “But, you taste too sweet to be bad. Or perhaps you yourself are sin.” Father Gojo whispers to you now, and you’re leaning closer, rolling your hips, making him groan, his hands gripping your little waist as your heat brushes against his cock. “Has it alleviated some of your… need, my child?”

He’s smirking at you, in a way no priest should! You sigh then, shaking your head. “No, Father, it’s only made it worse! You must help me more, I’m afraid now I’m thinking of sinning even more, and who I’ve been dreaming of.” You say then, it’s a whisper, as the room is hot from your breaths, smelling like sweet arousal.

Satoru blinks then, thin white brows going together, jaw clenching. “You’re thinking of fucking your own priest? That is a sin.”

“I know! It’s a terrible affliction. Oh Father, I’m going to hell.” You whisper, blinking back tears, still reeling from the aftershocks of cumming. Satoru arches his hips now, brushing his cock against your pussy, and you nearly scream out, head falling back, exposing your throat to him, and he pictures his hand wrapping a rosary around your neck, pulling tight.

You’ve dreamt of him too!? Surely this must be a sign.

A temptation.

But does he want to fight it? Your taste is all over his mouth now, as he feels your sexy little body against him, his hands brushing against your breasts, watching your nipples perk up. You look at him with intoxicated eyes, lips parted, your tiny hands clinging to his robes as you grind again, and he shudders at how fucking good it feels, your heat on him.

“I see… Well you must come to me tomorrow, and we will have to try harder, to save your soul.” He says huskily, you nod eagerly, as he helps you off him, his cock close to cumming, already twitching, he slides your soaked, ruined panties into his robes, you surely do not need them anymore.

“What if I have another dream father!”

“Do not touch yourself, I will help you when you come in, that’s so we can try to save you, yes?” You nod then, leaning close to his lips.

“Father, is it a sin to kiss your lips?”

“Not if you feel a calling, surely God wishes you to.” He murmurs, and you peck a sweet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on him, before forcing yourself out of the cramped quarters, body on fire, leaving Satoru to finish stroking his cock, cumming as he shoves your panties against his face.

******

You’re dreaming of him again, of Father Gojo, this time his snowy white hair is brushing against your thighs, his tongue is lapping up all the dripping wetness, his big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. You wake up throbbing, crying out, seeing how wet you are, as the ceiling fan whirls, failing to cool your overheated flesh. Father Gojo’s fingers made it worse, your affliction!

The next day you’re painfully turned on, pussy aching for more, you followed his instructions and did not touch yourself, instead you forced yourself to go back to sleep, now you’re in the nearly empty church, knocking at the door of Father Gojo’s office. You hear his deep voice speak.

“Come in.” You nervously walk in, you are wearing a shorter blue sundress today, and no panties. You know Father Gojo will see how sinful you are, but when you see his perfect face, and him wearing a thinner, lighter white robe, your pussy is already making your thighs sticky. “My child, lock that door, so we can have privacy… we would not want your confessions judged.”

“Yes, thank you Father.” You lock the door with a click, stepping to him, your heels clicking on the wooden floor of his room. He’s sitting in his chair, fingers steepled, studying your body carefully.

“Do you have any updates on your affliction, pretty girl?”

“Pretty girl…” You’re blushing worse now.

“I feel I must call you what the lord is telling me. Is that alright with you?” You nod nervously, standing before him, the desk separating you. “So how were your dreams last night?”

“They were of you again, Father Gojo. I’m so sorry!”

You cover your face in embarrassment, hearing the soft thumps of his shoes as he comes to you, taking you by your wrists, big hands enveloping the delicate wrists entirely. Your head tilts back to look at him, he’s so tall and big… you’re drinking in the sight of him, his black rosaries hanging across his broad chest.

“You must tell me these dreams, so I may help you. Perhaps they’re some sign that we must see.”

“You… you were licking me, between my thighs.” His nostrils flare slightly, those swirling blue eyes thirsty as he studies you, your thighs shift, his hands still tight on your wrists.

“Your slutty little pussy, I was licking it?” Your pussy is clenching, tummy coiling, at his nasty, sinful words, from such a pure man. You nod then. “I see, there’s no choice, we must see what enacting your dreams does. To try to save you.”

“Y-yes, father, I think so too.” You whisper, hands sliding up and down his chest, watching his Adam's apple bob under that white collar. “Does it ever get uncomfortable, Father Gojo?”

“At times. Take it off for me.” He turns and you undo the collar, when he turns back you see it, his strong neck, the muscles corded, you bite your lower lip, earning him pulling it from your teeth. “This dream, describe it, so I can help you.”

You’re a flustered mess, especially after his fingers yesterday, and all the dreams you’ve been having. You take several breaths now. “You were licking me.”

“More descriptive.” He murmurs now, sitting you up on his desk, shocking you, then he slides up your skirt and smirks, wicked priest that he is, blue eyes darting back up to yours. “No panties, your soul is so slutty.”

“I… well… Father Gojo!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, watching you writhe on his desk now, as he sits back in his black chair, scooting up, his breath right against you.

“You wanted this, to be bare in front of me, didn’t you pretty little sinner?”

“Y-yes, I told you, I’m going to hell, mmm!”

He’s kissing your thighs, your hands enwrap in his silky white hair now, his breaths higher and higher, eying your perfect, glistening pussy. He’s dying to feel you dripping down his tongue, dying to drink your sweet nectar flowing when he’s opening up the lips of your pussy, and you’re making those pretty sounds, you’re so pathetic already, he thinks.

“No, I will save you, don’t you believe in me, pretty? I alone speak for God, I’m the honored one.” His words along with his eyes, those glittery blue storms that see right through you, as if they know your every sin, wreck you now. He surely must be the honored one.

“You’ll save me, I know you will.” You whisper, caressing his cheek now, and he moans softly, just urging you on more.

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me, what did I do in this dream?”

“You licked me, here.” You touch your slit, and he slides his tongue up it now, making you gasp, his tongue is so hot and wet, you’re gushing just from that. Satoru moans, kissing right over your clit before swiping his tongue again. “Father!”

“Shh, lest they hear your sinful mouth.” He whispers, and you clench your teeth, nodding as you watch him, he is placing your feet on either arm of his chair. “And you did not play with yourself?”

“I swear I did not, Father Gojo! I listened. Please…” You arch your hips up, full pussy in his face, and Satoru begins to devour you now, spreading your lips and flicking his tongue on your little swollen clit over and over. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, his rosary is cool against your inner thigh as he works your pussy, just like your dream.

Satoru’s tongue is wicked, for such a holy man you think, and it does the most wicked things to you, no dream could prepare you, even his fingers had not. He sucks your clit into his hot open mouth, moaning as your juices coat his tongue, looking up at you as you cling to his hair with one hand, the other muffling your cry as you feel yourself begin to cum.

Soon you are cumming right on Father Gojo’s face, your thighs shaking on either side of his head, pussy pulsing around nothing, and he’s drinking you up, so lewd in the quiet church office. You’re jerking now, as he leans up, half his pretty face shining with your slick, making you flush at how much there was. Your hand eases down, now just gasping for breath as you look at him.

“And now, my child, how is this affliction?” He whispers, leaning up and laying atop you, pressing you into the wooden desk. You lean up, kissing him once more, earning his moan, tasting yourself all over him, he grabs you by the throat then, long fingers wrapping as he pulls back. “How hard do I have to work to save your slutty little soul, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Father Gojo. It was so amazing… but I just want more, I fear I’m having more lustful thoughts of you now.” Your hand slides down now, cupping him where he’s thick and hard, and he squeezes your throat harder now, his thumb on your racing pulse.

“And what else is in that little brain of yours? What lewd fantasies of your priest, hmm?”

“Sucking your cock, that’s what.” He groans now, pulling you down and putting you to your knees. You look up eagerly, now Satoru is undressing, and you finally get glimpses of his body, of hard muscles and planes as he’s taking off his robes, now opening his pants for you, revealing a huge, thick cock. You gulp as you drink in the sight of it.

“And do you know what to do, how to serve me, my child?” He asks, you shake your head. “Yet you’ve dreamt it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then it’s surely meant to be, hmm? First, slide down your top.” You do as he says, and he moans as he sits back in his chair, gripping your bare breasts. “My God,  you’re made to ruin me. Come here, open your mouth.”

You do as he says, and Father Gojo now guides you by your hair, hair he wraps around his fist, guiding you down on his cock. His curved pink tip is leaking white pearly substance, which you tongue out, earning his grown, his head falling back. You suck him eagerly, swirling your tongue, as his eyes watch you, lidded and dazed, tasting his saltiness and sweetness eagerly.

“You’re far too good at this, are you sure you haven’t been sucking cock, like a sinful brat?” You pull back with a pop, saliva dripping down your lips.

“No, I only want to serve you, Father.”

“Mmm, you’re so precious.” He whispers, before shoving your mouth back on him, and you’re bobbing up and down as he pulls your hair, using it to glide you up and down his length. Your eyes water, your nose starts running as his cock is choking you, your pussy throbbing even more. “Fuck…”

“Father, did you cuss?” You ask, pulling back, with a shy little grin, earning Father Gojo’s smirk.

“I’m allowed to, it’s all God’s words. Now are you finally satisfied, or do we need to go further? Do I need to break your pretty little pussy?” He murmurs, his words like a drug, running his thumb across your lower lip. You nod then, weakly, and his lips part, eyes studying you. “Then ask me, on your knees so pretty, like you’re praying.” He puts your hands in prayer position, blue eyes lighting up.

“Please, break me, Father Gojo.” He pulls you up now, kissing you deeply, tongues so unpracticed and messy, you’ve never really even kissed, but now you feel him, filling you once more with those two fingers as he bends low.

“Turn around and bend over, sweet sinner.” You turn, and now Father Gojo has slid your dress down, leaving you in just your heels, his big hands gliding down every line and curve of your bare body. “I said bend over.”

He smacks you sharply on your backside, making you gasp then whine out, as he presses your upper back between your shoulder blades, your face against his desk. He then takes your hands, putting them behind your back and wrapping them with his black beaded rosary. You whine out at the sensation, he pulls it so tightly it’s digging in, shoving the cross in your palms.

“Hold on to that cross while I fuck your innocent little pussy. Feel it against your skin as I do.” He says, whispering in your ear. You nod, feeling the sharp cool silver digging in, as the beads dig into your bound wrists. “Good girl, spread those thighs.”

You do as he says, and then his tip is in, stretching you, and you’re shivering, breaths coming faster and faster. Satoru shoves his cock inside you, tearing at your little barrier. You cry out at the pain, and he pauses for a moment, moaning, letting you adjust. “H-hurts…”

“Just a moment of pain to fill you with my light.” He murmurs, sinking deeper, and your walls are fluttering around his cock, earning his groan. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Did you want me to take it, your innocence?”

“I’ve w-wanted you, so long… played with… a long ah- time.” He moans now, sliding back out and in, you’re so wet and ready the pain eases quickly, as he takes you from behind now, pulling on your neck, pressing your bound hands firmer against your back, whispering in your ear.

“You sinned so long, playing with this pussy thinking of me?” You nod weakly, hiccuping on a cry as he’s pumping now, taking you over, stretching your tight cunt out so much, your skin burns, but you crave it.

You’re going to hell, surely.

But it seems worth it to be stretched by his cock so well.

“Y-yes… a long time. S-sorry Father…”

“Just Satoru when you cum all over my cock, hmm?” You nod weakly, then he fucks you harder now, thighs smacking your skin, his pelvis smacking your now sore ass cheeks, balls smacking your clit. “Ah, and you’re close already and your first time? You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Satoru!” You scream out so loud he’s palming your mouth with his huge hand, taking over your face, shoving his cock in and rolling his hips, making you climax so hard you cannot see. You weakly drool out of your lips onto his hand, as he feels your velvety walls fluttering around him.

You are made for this, for his cock, to take him. Your sweet virgin pussy is getting so filled by Father Gojo’s huge cock, but you’re already taking him so well. Father Gojo knows then that your dreams and his must be for a better purpose, to fuck you and fill you with all of his light, surely. You’re taking him more and more, cumming so hard your cunt is drooling everywhere.

He lets your face go, looking at your fucked out expression, your mouth is wide open, that drool dangling out the corner, your eyes are rolled back, lashes fluttering, your ass arching up for more. You’re such a sinful creature, but he knows your innocence was made for just him, clearly. You would not have anyone else, he would surely see to it.

It’s God's calling.

You’re pounded and stuffed by his huge cock, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, ass jiggling with the force, then Satoru pulls your chin to face him, he’s so fuzzy, you keep shutting your eyes.

“Look at me, my child, now.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, staring into his weakly as his thrusts slow.

“Y-yes, Satoru…” He moans at the use of his name from your pretty lips.

“I’m saving you, through… mmm… God’s wisdom.”

“Thank you, thank you!” You’re trembling, he’s rolling his hips and that tip is dragging on your spot, you struggle to focus on his pretty face, the sun from the blinds filtering in behind his head, and then he looks like an angel. The cross is digging in so much your hand is bleeding just a bit, but you truly couldn’t care, his cock feels too good inside you.

“Do you want me to… fill you…” He’s crying out then, grabbing you so tightly you can’t breathe. “With God’s love… and light?”

“Please, fill me Father- ah!” Satoru starts pumping faster and faster, yanking on your rosary so hard it breaks as he begins to cum, the beads flinging and clattering all over the wooden floor, the cross still digging into your broken palm.

“Going to put… so much… light in you… fill you-” He moans loudly then, and you feel hot liquid pumping inside, bringing you to cum with him, as it coats your walls, hot and sticky. “Feel it? Feel me filling you with it?”

“I do! I do… Father Gojo… feel it.” You whine out, rolling your hips to milk him for every bit of his hot white ropes.

“Oh… Mmm…” He’s pumping more cum inside you now, but you’re so wet and still convulsing, so it’s dripping down his cock with your arousal. Satoru exhales, pulling out and then wiping you up, turning you gently, gulping as he kisses you once more. “You were sent here to destroy me.”

“Father, I’m afraid… I only want to do it more.” You whisper, he groans, cupping your face, as you bring up your hand to him, where the cross has left red marks on your palm, he traces it, the perfect symbol of the cross, with little blood drops streaking. You wince in pain.

“I see, it’s a sign we must continue.” He says, and you nod eagerly, as he holds your hand in his.

“We must, Father Gojo.”

*****

The next Sunday, you’re sitting in the very front for the sermon, watching as Father Gojo is licking a thumb and turning a page, his blue eyes darting to your thighs, today you’re wearing a pink summer dress. Father Gojo has stolen a pair of your panties, he thinks you don’t notice, but you do, so you decide not to wear any again, opening your legs for a moment.

Father Gojo gets a glimpse of your bare, glistening pussy right in that church, making his cock hard in front of a room full of hundreds of his followers. Luckily the brown stand in front of him covers up such evidence, as he looks over at your face when you cross your sexy legs, you smile up at him, blinking innocently.

But you’re not innocent, not anymore, are you? No, you’re the worst sinner he’s tried to save, and he thinks he’ll have to work harder to save you. And when you’re riding his cock in the confessional later that evening, and he’s biting on your breasts, you’re riding him so well, moans muffled in the tiny room, he’s not sure he can save you truly, you’re too full of sin.

Father Gojo enjoys your slutty soul and your soaking wet pussy on him far, far too much, especially filling you with his cum light.

Serving Father Gojo is perfectly fine, it's God's will after all 🙏 Nanami and Geto drabbles coming some time too <3 Reblog if you're a sinner <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60569476

okay but like bakugou x seamstress fem!reader. you’re a fashion designer and have your own small label. for every event your husband goes to, he’s in one of your designs that was, of course, made by you.

he groans as you sit on the floor, one knee bent as you push up your glasses. you’ve got your tape measure wrapped around katsuki’s lower leg.

he thinks you look absolutely adorable as you concentrate on taking his measurements. he still finds odd that you insist on always re-taking his measurements every few months, but he's learned to shrug it off and let you have your way.

“i wanna make sure your clothes look good, suki!” you chime. you pushed him back by the shoulders, leading him to the centre of the living room where he now stands, peering down at you.

tingles erupt underneath his skin as your delicate, pin-pricked fingertips run up his shin to his thigh, tape measure gliding through his blond hair. and when you gaze up at him with those pretty lined eyes, he comes undone.

his heart beats calmly as you say, “you’re thighs have gotten bigger.” tch.

he huffs, “what’s that supposed t’mean?” you poke his thigh innocently, meeting his crimson eyes with a similar look.

you grin, “probably because it’s winter.” you gaze back at the tape measure before recording his new measurement in your trusty notebook. you can feel him glaring at you, but you know it’s in jest. you then measure his other leg and hips.

coming to his waist, you giggle, “and your waist has gotten bigger too.”

your husband grumbles, “yea, well, don’t get used to it. by summer, it’ll all be gone.” you look up at him, your palm cupping his cheek as you guide his gaze to yours.

you say sweetly, “but i like you like this.” with your other hand, you poke the fresh fat of his tummy. there’s not too much. just enough so he’s more cuddly now.

“oi! quit it, brat!” he steps back, evading your wandering hands.

you pout playfully, “oh come on, suki! let me finish my measurements, please.” he gives in after a minute of staring down at you, feigning irritation whilst utterly entranced by your soft gaze.

once you finish, you peck him on the cheek and skip off happily to your sewing room to start designing his new suit.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

at the annual pro heroes gala, no one can take their eyes off your husband. you really outdid yourself this time, sewing his suit to perfection.

you only finished it a few hours ago as you had been making some last-minute alterations. all of the sweat and tiny pricks and screaming as you seam ripped was all worth it as your husband looks delicious. you could take a bite out of him the way the fabric falls over his skin, hugging his 50 pounds of ass and meaty biceps. you can’t decide which one you want to devour first.

seeing your dazed expression, katsuki comes back to you, eager to rid himself of old acquaintances and false pleasantries. he wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you into his side tightly as he mutters into your hairline, “everything okay, sweets?”

you hum, snapping out of it and gazing up at him. you say quietly, “just thinking about how good you look tonight. everyone keeps staring at you.”

katsuki chuckles gruffly, the sound pure ecstasy to your ears. “all because of you, doll.” you shake your head in protest, but your husband grabs your chin and tilts it back. your lips brush lightly, teasingly.

he whispers against them, “why don’t cha let me show you how grateful i am?” you bite on your lower lip as you think over his offer that you’re bound to accept. the little movement drives him crazy. crazy enough to smash his lips onto yours as photographers rapidly snap pictures.

the next morning, you’re sore. there’s no doubt about that. you groan as you roll over, taking in a grinning katsuki as he pulls you close, hand in his phone as he scrolls through twitter.

there are a million comments about you both: your kiss, your incredible design and sewing skills, how hot pro hero dynamight is, how lucky you are to be his wife.

you tilt your head up and kiss his jaw, mumbling into it a sleepy “good morning”. he hums as he tightens his grip on your hips.

after bellowing about a comment he read, katsuki draws you in impossibly closer and kisses your forehead. the heat of his lips lingers on your skin as he peppers kisses down to your ear. he grumbles, “love you.”

you sigh, curling your toes from the warmth spreading throughout your body. “i love you, too.”

thank you for tagging me, lovely! why does this look kinda eat-

@bloomstream @misscaller06 @dollyfetti

I’m starting a tag game!!

Make you in the 60s-70s🫶

Dress Up Games

Groovy Retro 2

Groovy Retro 2

🏷️ @deadhands69 @kitkat13001

okay so i'm not a lads acc but holy truck this was a masterpiece. everything like the dialogue was written so well. the characterisation, the tension, the imagery. all of the interactions felt so natural and dynamic.

need this on my page so i can re-read it a bajillion times!

petty | sylus

synopsis : You thought a harmless prank—some red dye, a little glitter—would be funny. But Sylus, your cold, calculating boyfriend, doesn’t get mad. He gets petty. Now your closet’s organized by emotional damage, your coffee machine brews herbal tea, and your Evol is locked by a containment cuff—right after he kissed you breathless and chained you to a console like it was foreplay. Meanwhile, Luke’s set the kitchen on fire, Kieran’s crying over decaf, and Sylus just smiles like he’s already won. Which okay, he already did.

content : fluff, chaos, N109 Zone au, just sylus being petty af, imagine: rom-com and slapstick comedy

writer’s note : i had this sitting in my drafts for so long LOL

You have no idea how you ended up here.

It was just a silly prank. One you decided—no, more like bullied—into pulling on Sylus.

Luke had that look in his eye, Kieran had that grin, and between the two of them, you’d made a series of very poor decisions.

It started out harmless.

Overheating the dryer until his clothes shrunk just enough to make him glare at his reflection in irritation.

Switching out his toothpaste with mint chip ice cream—cold, foamy, oddly sweet.

Juvenile, yes, but survivable.

But then Luke, bored of mild chaos, decided to up the ante.

Red dye. In Sylus’ face wash.

You should’ve stopped him.

You really should’ve.

Now you’re backed up against the cold steel wall of the corridor outside your shared quarters.

Sylus stands in front of you, arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. His body radiates heat like he’s just stepped out of hell itself.

And his face?

Still damp.

Streaked red.

A slow, uneven flush blooming down his jaw and neck like a war paint disaster.

You press your lips together to stifle the laugh climbing your throat.

Not because you’re afraid—well, okay, maybe a little—but because if you so much as snort, you know he’ll make you regret it.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you.

That unreadable, razor-edged stare.

Like he’s measuring the weight of your existence against the trouble you’re worth.

“Sylus,” you start, trying for innocent. “It was—”

“A prank,” he finishes for you, voice low, smooth. The kind of calm that usually precedes mass destruction. “I gathered.”

You open your mouth again, but the words die as he leans in closer, the tips of his silver hair grazing your forehead. His breath ghosts against your cheek.

“You find this funny?” he murmurs, voice like smoke and ice. “My face. My dignity.”

You hold your breath, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I mean,” you squeak, “you do pull off crimson rather well…”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile.

He just tilts his head slightly, gaze trailing down to your lips.

“I see,” he says.

You swallow.

“Sylus?”

He shifts forward, just enough that your bodies nearly touch, and then—click.

You glance down. He’s handcuffed your wrist to the pipe behind you.

One-handed. Effortless.

“What—wait, Sylus!”

He steps back, unhurried, brushing red-streaked water off his jaw with the back of his hand. He looks so composed now, it’s almost unfair.

“I’ll be in the lab,” he says casually, already turning away. “Don’t worry. Luke and Kieran are next. But you…”

He pauses at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, “You can stay there and think about what you’ve done.”

“Sylus.”

“I’ll come back when I’ve decided how to retaliate.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re not serious—!”

He disappears around the corner, his footsteps fading.

You stare after him, wrist tugging against the cuff. “You petty, beautiful menace!”

And somewhere down the hall, you swear you hear him laugh.

You struggle against the pipe for a solid five minutes.

Nothing.

Sylus had apparently decided that if he was going to cuff you, it would be with reinforced titanium-grade handcuffs.

Because of course he would.

You’re still trying to twist your wrist free when two familiar figures round the corner, arguing loudly.

“—I told you he’d murder us, Kieran.”

“No, you said he’d probably murder us. I figured we had a 20% survival rate if we ran fast enough—oh.”

They freeze when they see you.

You, handcuffed to a wall like some criminally adorable hostage. Hair slightly tousled.

A vein twitching in your temple.

Luke whistles low. “Damn. He actually cuffed you?”

“What was your first clue, Sherlock?” you snap, yanking on the cuff. “The literal metal restraint on my wrist or the rage in my eyes?”

Kieran winces. “Hey, hey, don’t be mad at us—we didn’t put the dye in the face wash.”

“You told Luke to do it!”

Luke, affronted, points at Kieran. “You told me you cleared it with her!”

“I said it would be funny! That’s not the same thing!”

You groan and let your head thump back against the wall. “I’m going to kill both of you. Slowly. With a spoon.”

Luke bites back a grin. “I don’t think Sylus is done with you yet.”

“Un-cuff me before I scream loud enough to summon the Onychinus agents.”

Kieran rummages through his pockets. “You think he left a key?”

“Oh yeah,” you deadpan. “I’m sure Sylus, the most paranoid man alive, just happened to leave a key to his special-grade cuffs on me.”

Luke pulls something out of his jacket and grins. “Good thing I have my trusty lockpick set.”

You squint at him. “Why do you have that?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Kieran leans in beside him, watching like this is a group project. “Careful, if you scratch her wrist again she’s going to throw you into traffic.”

“I will throw you into traffic,” you mutter.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Kieran beams.

“Touch me and I’ll break your fingers.”

Luke finally clicks the lock open with a satisfying snap. Your wrist comes free, and you stretch it, rubbing the sore spot with a glare that could melt steel.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. “Now run.”

“Run?” Luke blinks.

“Yes. Run. Before he comes back.”

The overhead lights flicker.

The three of you freeze.

“…That’s him, isn’t it?” Kieran whispers.

You look up slowly, the temperature in the corridor dropping by a few ominous degrees.

“I think he’s coming to check if I’ve learned my lesson,” you murmur.

Luke’s already halfway down the hall. “NOPE. I’M OUT—”

Kieran grabs your hand and drags you after him. “We live in fear now. This is our life.”

Behind you, the sound of measured footsteps echoes through the corridor.

And somewhere between breathless laughter and panic, you realise, this isn’t over.

Not even close.

You bolt through the corridor with Luke and Kieran like you’re fleeing an exploding reactor.

“He’s definitely tracking us,” you gasp.

“He has cameras everywhere!” Kieran hisses. “We’re screwed!”

You dive into the living quarters and slam the door shut behind you. Luke immediately ducks behind the couch. Kieran throws himself dramatically into the pantry.

You stand there for a beat, hands on your hips.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been involved in.”

“You’re welcome,” Luke’s muffled voice replies from under a throw blanket that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide his legs.

You sigh, yank open a cabinet, and cram yourself inside.

There’s a broom, a vacuum hose, and a suspicious packet of cookies you’re pretty sure expired last year.

“Kieran,” you call through the cabinet slats. “Are you eating?”

“…No,” he says with his mouth full.

“I swear to every celestial body—”

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Near.

All three of you freeze like a trio of amateur criminals hiding from a prison warden.

The door creaks open.

You hold your breath.

Nothing.

No words. No movement.

Just the sound of the wind outside the window and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I know you’re hiding,” Sylus calls out. Calm. Even. Like he’s enjoying this.

Luke lets out a soft, wheezing squeak from under the blanket.

You slap your palm over your mouth.

Kieran drops a packet of crackers and panics. “Shit, he’s bluffing! He’s bluffing!”

You burst out of the cabinet. “He’s NOT bluffing!”

All three of you scramble again, crashing into each other like some bootleg spy movie.

Kieran ends up tangled in curtain strings, Luke slams into a chair, and you leap over the kitchen counter and miss, landing with a loud thud.

You’re wheezing on the floor when Sylus walks in.

Unbothered. Unhurried.

Looking like an avenging angel with red-streaked remnants still faintly staining his jawline.

He folds his arms and surveys the disaster with something suspiciously close to amusement.

He walks past Kieran, still suspended in the curtains like a very dumb chandelier.

Past Luke, now pretending to be unconscious on the floor.

Past you.

He doesn’t say a word.

Not a glare. Not a threat. Not even a smirk.

Just a quiet, “Clean up after yourselves,” as he heads into his study.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“…That’s so much worse than yelling,” you whisper.

Kieran groans. “He’s plotting. He’s going to take us out one by one.”

Luke peeks from behind the couch. “He knows we’re scared. That’s why he’s letting us marinate.”

“I hate both of you so much right now,” you mutter, collapsing into the nearest armchair.

Kieran flops beside you and steals the remote. “We should lie low. Maybe bake him something.”

“Cookies fix everything,” Luke nods solemnly.

You glare at them both. “If I die, I’m haunting you in shifts.”

—•

It takes you two hours to gather the courage.

Two hours of Luke stress-eating cereal straight from the box while Kieran googled “how to tell if your boyfriend is planning your murder.”

Two hours of internal debates and spiraling scenarios, most of which ended with your disappearance and Sylus calmly denying any knowledge of your existence.

So now you’re standing in front of his office door like you’ve come to face a firing squad.

You raise your hand, hesitate, lower it again.

Then knock. Once. Softly.

“Come in,” comes his voice, smooth as always.

You open the door slowly. He’s seated behind his desk, glasses on, sleeves rolled up, looking for all the world like a man deep in some technical report.

But you know better.

His eyes flick up to you—and stay there.

“I brought tea,” you say weakly, holding up the mug like a peace offering. Or a shield. “And… a cookie. But Luke sat on it.”

He doesn’t move. Just watches you, unreadable.

You inch forward, placing the mug on the corner of his desk. “Look, I didn’t know about the dye. I mean I did, but I didn’t think he’d actually—okay, no, that’s a lie. I thought it would be funny.”

Silence.

“I was wrong.”

Still nothing.

You shift awkwardly, gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Finally, he sets his pen down and leans back slightly, eyes still fixed on you.

Then, just when the tension starts to crack your spine.

A small smile.

A smile.

Sharp. Amused.

Dangerous.

“It’s okay,” he says.

You blink. “It… is?”

He nods. “Of course.”

Too easy. Way too easy.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You inch back a step. “Why does that sound like a trap?”

His smile widens—just a fraction. “I said it’s okay. That’s all.”

You stare at him. He stares right back, like he can hear every thought racing through your brain. Like he’s already playing the long game and you just stepped into it without even knowing.

“Right,” you mutter. “Okay. Cool. Um. I’ll go now.”

You turn on your heel and walk—more like run—out of the room.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you press your back against it, eyes wide.

“He’s going to destroy me.”

And from behind the door, faint and unmistakably amused, comes the sound of Sylus quietly sipping his tea.

You return to the living quarters with the kind of haunted expression usually reserved for horror movie survivors.

Luke looks up from the couch, one leg slung over the backrest like a human pretzel.

Kieran’s on the floor with a blanket cape, eating cereal with a fork.

“Are we dead?” Kieran asks between mouthfuls.

“Not yet,” you mutter.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“He smiled at me.”

Both twins flinch.

“Was it… the smile?” Luke asks, lowering his voice.

“The ‘I know exactly where your corpse would never be found’ smile?” Kieran whispers.

You throw yourself onto the couch and groan into a pillow. “No. It was worse. It was the ‘It’s okay’ smile.”

Luke gasps dramatically. “No. He went full passive-aggressive Zen reaper?”

“He said it like it was fine. Like I’m fine. Like life is fine. Nothing is fine.”

Kieran crawls up beside you. “That’s psychological warfare. He’s gonna lull you into a false sense of security. Then, boom—next week your toothbrush explodes.”

“I wouldn’t even be mad,” you say into the pillow. “I’d respect the commitment.”

Luke drops beside you, flinging a cushion over your back like a blanket. “You know what this means, right?”

“That I need to sleep with one eye open?”

“No,” he says solemnly. “It means we go deeper.”

You lift your head slowly. “What?”

“He’s playing mind games. So we play worse mind games.”

“I’m sorry, did you hit your head on the stupid stick this morning?”

Kieran grins. “He’s got fear. But we have unpredictable chaos. Sylus doesn’t know how to handle us when we’re not even handling ourselves.”

“Oh, he knows. He just hasn’t decided which part of the house he’ll burn down first.”

Luke leans in. “Okay, hear me out. What if… next prank, we frame someone else?”

“Kieran,” you snap, “Luke is spiraling again.”

Kieran slurps his cereal louder. “Let him spiral. I want to see where it goes.”

You sit up, rubbing your temples. “You two are the reason I’m probably going to end up in some Sylus-designed containment cube labeled ‘Idiot No. 3.’”

Luke perks up. “That means he already made one for you.”

You chuck a pillow at his face. “I hate you.”

Kieran laughs so hard he chokes on his cereal.

And somewhere in the walls—behind silent security panels—you know Sylus is watching.

Letting you run your mouths.

Letting you think you’re safe.

Which is so much worse.

—•

Dinner is suspiciously… normal.

Too normal.

The lighting is warm. The dining room pristine.

The food? Already served and plated like a five-star meal—elegant, balanced, perfectly portioned.

Which is already unsettling, because Sylus doesn’t cook. He commands kitchens into order.

But tonight, he did everything himself.

You sit stiffly at the table, trying not to choke on the silence.

Kieran sits across from you, eyes darting from his fork to Sylus like he’s waiting for the plate to detonate. Luke hasn’t even touched his food.

Which says a lot, because Luke once ate nachos that had been on fire.

Sylus, meanwhile, is the picture of grace.

Calm, composed, every movement deliberate as he cuts into his food with a quiet snick of silverware.

“How’s the meal?” he asks lightly.

You all jump a little.

“It’s great!” Kieran blurts. “So great. Best thing I’ve ever had. Better than oxygen.”

You nudge your plate with the fork. “Um. What exactly is this?”

Sylus smiles—just enough to show it’s a trap. “Roasted pepper-glazed poultry with herb foam.”

“…Foam?” Luke whispers. “Like… bubbles?”

Sylus turns to him. “Yes. But gourmet.”

Luke nods solemnly. “Tastes expensive.”

You take a careful bite. It tastes incredible, which only makes things worse.

Sylus never does anything without intent. You feel like each bite is a move in a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Is that saffron?” Kieran asks.

Sylus doesn’t look up. “Would I use saffron so early in the week?”

Kieran panics. “No! Obviously not. What a stupid question. Forget I said it. I never even heard of saffron.”

You sip your water. Pause. Sip again.

“Why does the water taste like mint?”

Luke sniffs his glass. “Mine tastes like fear.”

Sylus hums. “I thought I’d try infusing it. Cleansing properties. Refreshing.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re being nice.”

He looks at you. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“Not like this. You’re being suspiciously serene.”

Luke whispers to Kieran, “He’s baking the tension. Like a soufflé of dread.”

Kieran whispers back, “I’m scared to chew too loudly.”

Sylus finishes his plate, sets his utensils down with the softest clink, and dabs his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t worry. I’m not angry.”

You all freeze.

“I already told you,” he says, folding his hands neatly, “It’s okay.”

You grip the edge of the table.

“No, see, when you say that, it sounds okay, but it feels like I’m about to get smothered in my sleep with a silk pillow.”

Sylus smiles, serene as a saint. “You wound me.”

“Oh my god,” Kieran mutters. “He wants us to feel safe.”

“That’s when he’ll strike,” Luke hisses.

Sylus stands, slow and elegant. “I’ve had a long day. You three can clean up.”

And with that, he walks off—leisurely, utterly calm—leaving behind his perfectly empty plate and three very nervous idiots still staring at their forks like they might be poisoned.

“I think he put lavender in the bread,” Luke says hollowly.

“That’s a threat,” Kieran nods.

You don’t speak. You just slowly lower your fork onto your plate and say, voice soft with realisation.

“We’re already losing.”

—•

It starts the next morning.

Small things.

You wake up and stumble bleary-eyed into the bathroom, only to find your toothbrush… gone. In its place is a child’s pink glittery toothbrush with a tiny bow on the handle and a smug little unicorn printed across it.

You stare at it.

It stares back.

“…Sylus.”

You brush anyway. Because fear is temporary, but oral hygiene is forever.

Down the hall, you hear a scream. Luke.

You race to his room, bursting in just in time to see him holding up a shirt—his favorite shirt—now three sizes too small and bright neon orange.

“He sabotaged the laundry!” Luke wails. “It looks like a highlighter threw up on it!”

Kieran stumbles in a moment later, face pale. “Okay. You know the coffee machine?”

You all pause.

“…What about it?” you ask warily.

“I pressed ‘brew’ and it played classical music. Loudly. Very loudly. And then dispensed chamomile tea.”

Luke gasps. “Decaf?”

Kieran nods. “Herbal.”

You all stand there in silence, the full horror of that registering.

“Okay,” you say slowly, “He’s escalating. This is psychological warfare disguised as hospitality.”

Luke grabs your shoulders. “We have to go off-grid.”

You shake him off. “We live in his grid. He built the grid.”

Kieran paces. “Okay. Okay. So he’s playing the long game. Fine. We stay strong. We don’t break.”

You return to your room to get dressed, trying to reclaim some sense of normalcy.

Your closet is empty.

No. Not empty.

Reorganized.

Everything is sorted by color, occasion, emotional state, and the lunar cycle.

There are even handwritten labels.

LUNAR-ALIGNED NIGHTWEAR.

MILDLY ANNOYED LOUNGE SETS.

IF YOU MUST INTERACT WITH PEOPLE.

You stare.

It’s… kind of impressive.

Still terrifying.

Later that day, your comm device pings with a message.

Hope the toothbrush is to your liking. Unicorns are symbols of purity. Thought it was fitting. —S.

You don’t respond. You can’t.

You sit there in silence, chewing your unsatisfying herbal tea and wondering how one man could be so elegant and so unhinged at the same time.

Back in the kitchen, Luke is attempting to pick the lock on the pantry door—now password protected and voice activated.

Kieran sits on the floor, whispering sweetly to the coffee machine in the hopes it will forgive him.

And all the while, somewhere deep in his office, Sylus watches the surveillance feed with a slight, satisfied smile.

Checkmate? Not yet.

But the pieces were moving.

And he was always ten steps ahead.

—•

It’s late.

Too late for anyone else to be awake. The halls are quiet, dimly lit, the kind of silence that feels intentional.

You creep into the kitchen, determined to retrieve your emergency stash of chocolate hidden behind the vitamin supplements Sylus refuses to acknowledge.

You’ve earned this.

After a day of psychological warfare and sentient appliances, you deserve sugar and solitude.

But the moment you open the cabinet, you hear it.

“Looking for something?”

You jump, nearly drop the jar, and spin around.

Sylus leans casually against the doorframe. Half in shadow. White shirt slightly unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled. Watching you like you’re the most amusing thing he’s seen all day.

You swallow. “Just… needed a snack.”

He hums, low and thoughtful, stepping into the room. “You always get hungry when you’re anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.”

“Of course you’re not.”

He steps closer. Not fast. Not threatening.

Just… there.

Slowly closing the distance until he’s in your space. His eyes flick down to the jar in your hands, then back to you.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he murmurs.

You shrug, heart in your throat. “You’ve been… rearranging my life like an episode of The Big Bang Theory.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“You should be grateful. I improved your morning routine, your closet, and your toothpaste. Not many people get this level of attention from me.”

“You replaced my shampoo with glitter gel.”

“I thought you liked shimmer.”

You glare. “Okay, what is this? Revenge lite? Psychological torment with a smile?”

He tilts his head, eyes glittering with that infuriating calm. “Do you think I’d waste my time with petty revenge?”

You hesitate. “…Yes?”

He chuckles. “Fair.”

He leans in just slightly—close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back with deliberate slowness.

“But here’s the thing,” he says softly. “I’m not doing this because I’m angry.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?”

His voice drops lower, velvet and ice. “This is a warning.”

You blink. “A warning?”

He raises a brow. “You see, I’m not interested in getting even. I’m not even interested in winning.”

He leans in fully now, mouth near your ear, voice like silk dragged over steel.

“I’m interested in reminding you… that you don’t play games with someone who invented the board.”

Your breath catches.

Then he steps back. Casual.

Smiling.

Completely composed, like he didn’t just dismantle your spine with a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says smoothly, already turning to leave.

“Sylus—”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes cool, mouth curved in that infuriatingly perfect smirk.

“Sleep well, sweetie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you in the kitchen, heart pounding, chocolate jar forgotten in your hands.

You stare at the door, then mutter to yourself:

“Okay. Yep. We’re all going to die.”

—•

You don’t sleep.

Not really.

Not after that.

You toss. Turn.

Stare at the ceiling.

Replay his words on a loop in your mind.

You don’t play games with someone who invented the board.

You shouldn’t be thinking about the way he said it. Or the way he’d leaned in—close enough to smell your shampoo, the glitter one, traitorous and lemon-sweet.

Or how his voice had dipped low like he wanted to taste the words.

But you are.

And it’s driving you insane.

You last until just before sunrise.

Then you march down the hall in bare feet and defiance, fully intending to demand an end to this madness.

Maybe yell. Maybe shake him.

Definitely not… whatever this fluttering in your chest is.

You stop outside his office.

The door is open.

He’s seated at the far end, back to you, reading something on a tablet. He doesn’t look up when you enter, but he says, “You’re up early.”

Your jaw tightens. “You planned that.”

“I plan everything.”

You walk in, arms crossed. “The glitter. The water. The closet. The toothbrush. You knew it would get in my head.”

He finally turns in his chair, tablet abandoned. “And yet… you came to me.”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

It’s silent.

That heavy, brittle kind of silence where something has to break.

“You’re impossible,” you say quietly.

He tilts his head. “You’re the one who dyed my face red.”

You blink. “That wasn’t me! That was Luke!”

“But you knew.” He stands now, slow and deliberate, each step toward you heavier than the last. “And you laughed.”

“That was after the shock wore off.”

He stops in front of you, so close your breath hitches.

“You like testing me,” he says, almost gently.

Your voice is soft. “You like watching me squirm.”

His lips curve. “Only when you’re cornered.”

Your heart kicks up. “You don’t scare me.”

“No?” he murmurs, leaning in. “Then why do you look like you’re about to run?”

“I’m not—”

He reaches out—slow, precise—and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your skin like a dare.

You forget how to breathe.

“You know what the real game is?” he says, voice low enough to curl around your spine. “It’s not about revenge. Not anymore.”

You stare at him, pulse racing.

“It’s about seeing how long we can keep pretending this tension is just about pranks.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

He leans in closer, mouth inches from yours. “So go ahead,” he whispers. “Run. Or…”

His breath brushes your skin.

“…stop pretending.”

And in that moment, the air between you threatens to collapse entirely.

Your heart is hammering.

You can hear it—feel it—each thud echoing through your ribs like a countdown.

But nothing moves. Not him. Not you.

Just that impossible closeness and the weight of everything left unsaid pressing in like gravity.

Sylus doesn’t touch you again.

He doesn’t need to.

He’s right there, his presence overwhelming in its stillness, in the way his eyes never leave yours. Not even to blink.

Not even for air. It’s like he’s daring you to look away first.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

The tension is a live wire between you, buzzing, pulsing, dangerously taut.

You could lean in.

He could close the distance. Just one breath more.

One slip.

One break in control.

And everything would unravel.

But neither of you moves.

Because this isn’t about the kiss.

It’s about the pause before it.

The ache of proximity. The heat of restraint.

The mutual, wordless recognition that something’s changed, tilted—irrevocably—but no one wants to name it yet.

His voice, when it comes, is almost a whisper. “Still not scared?”

You swallow, your voice quieter still. “Should I be?”

He leans in just enough for your foreheads to almost touch. “Terrified.”

And there it is again—that exquisite push and pull. That dangerous promise wrapped in affection, mischief, and a power you’ll never quite untangle.

You feel the breath leave your lungs. “Then why haven’t you done anything?”

Sylus doesn’t smile this time. Not quite.

Instead, his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips, then lingers there.

“Because I like this,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“This moment,” he murmurs, voice velvet-dark. “Where you’re still trying to pretend you have the upper hand.”

Your pulse stutters.

“And when I finally take it from you,” he continues, “you’ll know it wasn’t by force.”

His eyes lift back to yours—slowly, intently.

“It’ll be because you gave it.”

Your breath hitches.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Not forward. Not back. Just there.

Waiting.

Like he can stay in this moment forever, balanced at the edge of something dangerous and devastating.

Just to watch you fall first.

He’s still watching you.

Still waiting.

Like he’s reading your every thought, every twitch of hesitation, every part of you that wants to lean in and the part that still clings to the illusion of control.

You don’t speak.

You just look at him.

And that’s all it takes.

Because Sylus moves with the precision of someone who’s already planned this moment ten steps ahead.

One hand rises—fingers brushing your jaw, your cheek, slow as silk.

The other curls gently around your waist, pulling you forward, not forcefully, but with the promise of no escape.

You barely get the chance to gasp before his mouth captures yours.

It’s not a gentle kiss.

It’s deliberate. Consuming.

Like he’s reminding you exactly who you’ve been playing games with.

There’s heat, yes, but more than that—there’s command.

The way his lips move against yours, the way his hand tilts your chin just so, the way your breath disappears entirely beneath his—all of it says, you’ve lost.

And god, you let him.

Your hands curl into his shirt, trying to hold on—anchor yourself.

But he deepens the kiss and everything tilts with it.

The pressure of his body, the taste of him, the sound you make without meaning to—it all blends together in something dangerous.

And then, you feel it.

A faint, thrumming pulse in the air.

A crackle of invisible tension winding around your wrists.

You pull back just barely, lips parted, dizzy. “What—”

Too late.

Energy winds up your arms like silken thread—cool, weightless, until it suddenly binds.

A shimmer of red-black tendrils coils around your wrists, tugging them behind your back, smooth as liquid steel.

Your breath catches. “Sylus—?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing steady, unbothered. “You like playing with fire,” he murmurs, voice low and calm. “But you forget—I am the fire.”

With a flick of his fingers, the energy coils tighten. Your arms are pulled behind you, secured to the low railing of the console desk behind you—elegant, efficient, inescapable.

Then, as if that weren’t enough—he slides a metal cuff into place around your right wrist.

You freeze the second it locks.

You know that cuff.

Dull black, sleek. Lined with tech that silences Evol abilities like a mute button pressed against your skin.

It hums to life with a faint click.

And suddenly, you’re still.

Held.

Caged.

Disarmed.

Your eyes widen. “That’s—”

“—the containment cuff from Tartarus, yes,” he finishes, calmly brushing your hair from your face. “You didn’t think I’d forget to prepare for retaliation, did you?”

You stare at him. “You kissed me just to—?”

He tilts your chin up again, eyes sharp, amused, infuriatingly tender.

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he says. “Cuffing you was just… a bonus.”

Your mouth opens in protest, but he leans in again, this time slower, deliberate, brushing his lips over yours like a threat.

“Now,” he whispers, “let’s see how long you can behave… without your tricks.”

Then he steps back, leaving you bound to the desk, breathless and flushed, completely and utterly at his mercy.

And he smiles.

Not the cold, amused smile from before.

Something darker. Possessive. Knowing.

“You started this,” he says, voice velvet. “Now you get to see how I finish it.”

You tug against the energy binding your wrists. It doesn’t budge.

The cuff hums faintly at your pulse point, Evol completely silenced.

He stands before you, not gloating—no, that would be too easy.

Too human. He just watches.

Calm. Composed.

Like a man who could undo you in a thousand ways and hasn’t even begun.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice like poured velvet.

You narrow your eyes. “This is so far beyond revenge.”

“Is it?” he muses, brushing a thumb under your chin. “You did challenge me. Repeatedly. In public. With unicorns.”

You glare. “You’re enjoying this.”

He leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “Immensely.”

And then—crash.

Followed by a shout.

And another crash.

You both freeze.

Sylus exhales, long-suffering, and turns his head just as the door to the control room swings wide open.

Luke bursts in, holding a smoking toaster. “Okay! Who set the oven to incinerate? I was making waffles—”

He stops.

Stares.

Kieran skids in behind him, carrying a fire extinguisher. “We may or may not have caused a minor electrical—”

Also stops.

Stares.

The three of you hold in silence.

You, flushed, cuffed, and restrained against the desk.

Sylus, standing in front of you with the casual elegance of a villain who’s definitely in charge.

Luke, blinking rapidly.

Kieran, slowly lowering the extinguisher.

“Oh my god,” Luke whispers. “Did we walk in on a—”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you bark.

Kieran’s already backing out. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Sylus doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. He just looks over his shoulder at them and says, calm as ever.

“Leave. Before I make it permanent.”

Luke raises both hands, stepping back. “Okay! Yep. Carry on. Nothing to see. Just… us. Not here.”

Kieran salutes. “We were never here.”

They vanish.

The door slams.

You exhale through your nose. “I hate them.”

“You encouraged them,” Sylus replies.

“I was peer pressured!”

He hums, reaching for your jaw again, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You always have an excuse.”

“I wasn’t the one who turned revenge into a bondage scene—”

He cuts you off with a low chuckle. “Are you uncomfortable?”

You open your mouth.

Then close it.

Then hiss, “…Yes. In the worst way.”

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing his lips barely—barely—against yours. “Sit in that discomfort. Feel it.”

He steps back again, and your body instinctively leans forward—straining just slightly against the binds.

His smile turns wicked. “That’s one.”

You blink. “One what?”

“One slip.”

You frown. “What is this, a score counter—?”

“Two.”

You shut your mouth. Scowl.

He watches you with open amusement now. “You’re very expressive when you’re trying not to be.”

“Sylus.”

He leans down, gaze inches from yours, voice soft.

“Be good, and I’ll let you go.”

You don’t respond.

His eyes glitter. “Or don’t. I’m patient.”

And he turns to leave. Leaves you there—bound, breathless, and burning.

“Oh my god!” you shout after him. “You’re the worst!”

From down the hall, Luke’s voice echoes faintly, “Is it safe to make waffles again?”

You scream, “NO!”

And Sylus’s laugh—low, dangerous, victorious—follows you like a storm rolling in.

the bird in me

hawks x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — bird mating drabbles, throwing up, you're a barista, fluff, sexual implications at the end, 3.5k words

a/n: this has to be one of my favourite works so far

regurgitation

it’s bad. every time he sees you, he can feel the churning in his stomach. something as simple as a smile or wave is enough to have his fist pressed to his lips, loudly clearing his suddenly tight throat.

every time you talk, he’s trying hard not to make a fool of himself (and failing miserably). he’s constantly ahem-ing or coughing, anything to push the rising bile back down his oesophagus.

he wills himself to be a man, to take the acidic burn with pride because he’s fortunate enough to be acknowledged by such a beautiful and intelligent girl. but by the five-minute mark, he’s excusing himself to the bathroom and throwing up this morning’s breakfast.

you thought he was just shy at first, but as it continues to happen, you begin to think he doesn’t like you.

the bell chimes as the café door swings shut. you gaze over the coffee machine, spotting those bright red feathers against the gloom of the night.

you take a deep breath in, rolling your eyes as you drawl, “we closed ten minutes ago, mr hawks.” a nervous laugh, your interest is piqued.

“i know, dove, but i wanted to see you,” he says confidently, only to clear his throat right afterwards.

your brow furrows, and you say more bluntly than intended, “well, i don’t know. you’re always trying to run away from me. your usual?”

“yes please,” he says, waltzing over to you. he rests his weight against the bench, watching you brew his double-shot cappuccino. ahem. he continues. “and i’m not trying to run away from you. never have—”

“doesn’t seem that way to me,” you cut him off. he coughs ostentatiously into his elbow, his face heating up from the sheer strength it’s taking to not throw up right now. he can’t help it!

you continue as you pour the thick foam into the takeaway cup, “you’ve only got few minutes for me before you’re dashing off. i mean i know you’re busy, but do you not have any better excuses? like, for a pro hero, you sure are shit at lying.” you’re glaring holes into the creamy milk as you shake chocolate powder on top of it.

you mumble, “if you don’t like me you can just say so.” the snap of the lid on the little paper cup echoes through the empty café. hawks hears his heart crack a little at your words. not like you? how could he not like you?! wasn’t it obvious—ahem!

he gasps, “bathroom?” you roll your eyes.

“at the back. hey!” your arms are raised as you glare after him, watching as he rushes to the bathroom.

you whisper-yell to yourself, “what the fuck?!” you slide his hot coffee to the edge of the bench and huff, fed up with his perplexing behaviour. if the night wasn’t so still, and the streets surrounding your tiny café so quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him violently throwing up in the men’s bathroom. but you do.

your eyes widen and then crinkle as you wince, wishing that such disgusting sounds weren’t ricocheting off the walls. you pull the bow of your apron loose and shrug it off, leaving it on a nearby table as you make your way to the bathrooms.

you hear the toilet flush as you body slam the heavy, olive green door open. white lights sting your eyes as you search for any sign of your most loyal customer. you find him resting against an open stall door, eyes closed, lips chapped, and forehead beading with sweat.

“mr hawks?” you say gently. his golden eyes shoot open and find you immediately. he smiles incredulously, and his voice is thick as he rasps, “this is the men’s ro—”

“shut the fuck up. are you okay?” you shift closer to him, but he moves back, calves hitting the toilet seat. you stop in your tracks, caging him in the small stall. his eyes dart to the side as he weighs up how to get out of the corner he’s backed himself into.

seeing his nervousness, you sigh. you turn and begin to walk out of the bathroom. he catches your elbow by the sinks and pulls you into his chest. you yelp as you hit his solid frame, utterly bewildered. his large hands gently squeeze your upper arms as you tilt your head up, gazing at him.

you mutter, “what is it?” he shakes his head, eyes dropping and unintentionally resting on your collarbone peeking out of your uniform. great, the pro hero thinks. that familiar sensation is reignited at the base of his throat.

he chokes out, “i-just give me a minute.” he let’s go of your arms and wanders back into the stall, shutting the door and bolting it this time. you groan, wrapping your arms around yourself as you listen to him throw up again, his chunky symphony amplified by these fuck ass tiles.

interjecting the flush of the toilet is the stall door slamming open. out strolls a lazily grinning hawks. he chuckles, “don’t tell me you have to clean in here.”

you sigh, “of course i do.”

he stops in front of you and shrugs, “then give me the mop and bucket and i’ll take care of it, alright?”

you shake your head, muttering, “look don’t worry about that. are you okay? what’s going on? you just threw up like twice. do you have food pois—”

“i feel great, actually. now, about what you were saying earlier,” he reaches out and takes your hands in his awfully clammy ones.

your shoulders slump as you huff, trying to pull your hands back. “hawks—”

“ya know, i really wish you would stop calling me that, dove.” he draws you in close, his body heat seeping through his clothes into you.

you retort, “and i really wish that you would stop interrupting me.” he opens his mouth, sucking in a breath as though he’s about to speak, and then he doesn’t.

the stifling air is quiet for a moment before the pro hero mutters, “sorry.” you shake your head as your mouth draws into a hard line. but you inevitably soften as he jerks away from you, coughing.

quietening down, he rasps, “i really like you, okay? i’m not trying to run away from you. quite the opposite, actually.” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, concerned that you can feel his heart jumping out of his chest. at least his stomach isn’t lurching anymore. he really did need that release.

seconds pass in tense silence as you wait for him to explain. he sighs, “i swear, y/n, i like you.”

“but,” you say, emphasising the ‘t’. he looks away from you, gathering his courage for what he’s about to say.

he breathes out, “don’t laugh, okay?” you nod, about to tear your hair out from the suspense. this man really knows how to dodge questions, you think.

“every time i see you… i wanna throw up.” he mutters that last part at the end as he gazes down at the minute crevices between your bodies.

your eyes widen as you exclaim, “you what?!” he grip tightens on your hands as he shakes his head fervently.

“because-um-it’s a bird thing. i wanna throw up because i like you, okay?” your mouth hangs half-open as you try to register his words.

he brings your hands to his lips and chastely kisses your knuckles. you stare at him in disbelief, stuttering, “i-it’s a bird thing? you-you wanting to throw up every time you see me?”

he nods, “technically, i want to regurgitate every time i see you. the bird part of me wants to prove to you that i’m a good partner.”

that night, you make sure he’s had some food and electrolytes before drinking his cold cappuccino.

preening

ever since you two started dating, it’s become a routine for kei to preen his feathers just before bed, and for you to simply sit across from him on the sofa, reading a book, scrolling on your phone, or watching him.

but tonight as you take up your usual spot on the couch, kei plops down next to you. he gently nudges your arm, catching your attention.

you mumble, “what is it, babe?” as you lock your phone. he kisses from your cheek to your jaw, earning an airy giggle from you.

he mutters into your skin, “will you preen my wings tonight?” your eyes widen as you let out a stuttered breath.

you pull back, saying nervously, “k-kei, honey, you sure? i’ve never preened anything before.” he hums as he slides off the couch and sits on the floor in front of you. he holds up a bottle of oil and you take it from him while explains how to preen his feathers.

you start with the feathers closest to his body and work your way out, from top to bottom. as your fingers work over his feathers, pulling debris from them and realigning the barbs, your bird boy hums.

you drop another piece of tarmac on the coffee table, saying, “you could hide a fucking road in here with how much rubble i’m pulling out right now.” kei chuckles and sighs, feeling you remove yet another remnant of today’s battles.

“are they always this dirty?” you question. your hero nods. it takes longer for you to preen him than if kei were to preen his feathers, but he appreciates your delicate and loving touch.

and the next night, he asks if you can preen his wings again. and soon, your routine has changed to you preening his feathers every night before bed.

gift-giving, scent marking, nesting

the cold winter nights warm and scrawny branches bloom with flowers, signifying that spring has arrived.

it was subtle at first, kei would bring home flowers for you every few days, claiming that his perfect girl deserved to be spoiled. and he claimed the same when he started making the most delicious dinners for you two every night, and when he started gifting you the most luxurious necklaces and shoes and bags you’ve ever owned.

when you woke up this morning, your bed sheets smelt of citrus. so fresh and divine, you sighed and rolled around, cocooning yourself in the quilt to get another whiff of that scent. you liked the smell so much that you got out of bed still wrapped up in the quilt, and dragged it around home with you all day (it’s your day off).

as kei closes the door behind him after another long day, you rush up to him, quilt left lonely. you throw yourself into his awaiting arms, sighing as his zesty scent washes over you. you sigh, melding your body against his as you inhale his musk.

he chuckles softly, “hey, dove. missed me, huh?”

you hum and mumble into his compression shirt, “you smell so good. since when did you smell like citrus though?” pulling back and pointing to the quilt on the sofa, you continue, “i thought you just bought some new laundry detergent or something.”

kei shrugs it off, claiming that he bought a new cologne (lies). but not before he draws you back into his arms and rubs the side of his face and neck all over your face and neck. sighing, you let him off the hook but resolve to keep an eye on him.

rummaging through his duffle bag, he says excitedly, "d'you wanna see what i got you, dove?" you press your lips together, disappointed by kei's spending habits lately. but not for long as he hands you a sealed box of the perfume you've been eying for years (it's vanilla2 by maison tahité for me).

you squeal in delight and thank him profusely, smothering his cheeks and lips and stubble with kisses before skipping off to your room to try your new perfume (kei rocks you gently as you have a cry over how blessed you are to have such an attentive partner).

for the next week, you swear you can hear shuffling in the early hours of the morning. as soon as you lift your head off the pillows though and search the dark room for some kind of movement, everything stills. you usually fall back asleep, but tonight is a bit different.

again, you wake to muffled sounds emanating from somewhere in your apartment. groaning, you bury your head into your pillow, only to rise from it a minute later when you hear a loud thud. roused from your sleepy daze, you get out of bed and caress the door frame for wayyy too long before you eventually find the light switch.

your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness quickly, and everything looks the same as it usually does. but something is missing. or rather, someone.

you step out of your shared bedroom and stare down the hall, seeing a familiar glow curling its fingers beneath one of the doors. as you approach it, you realise that the light is coming from kei’s office.

but it’s not just the light that is coming from his office. this sound, like something sliding against the floorboards, resonates from behind the wooden door.

you stand outside his office, leaning your ear against the door to eavesdrop. but the noise stops abruptly, as if kei (who you assume is inside) knows you’re right there.

you turn the doorknob and push the door open, revealing a dishevelled-looking kei amidst a heap of blankets. you blink at him dumbly, sleepily, and confused.

“kei,” you drawl. “what’re you doing?” he chuckles nervously as he stands from his crouched position and comes over to you, tripping on a blanket’s edge in the process. you catch his upper arms and help him to steady himself.

he gazes at you frantically, muttering, “’mnotdoinganythingchickpea. whydon’twegobacktobed?” his hands encircle your wrists and gently push you back toward the door. you shake your head.

“keigo takami,” you say in that serious tone parents reserve for when their child misbehaves. “what’re tryna hide from me?”

“nothing!” he exclaims far too loudly and quickly. you raise your brow at him while your eyes trail over his messy hair and half-unbuttoned pj shirt. you catch a glimpse of his toned muscles and golden-brown snail trail beneath the soft cotton. you gulp and avert your eyes to the mess behind him. he side steps, blocking your view.

you groan, “keigo.”

“please dove, promise i’ll show you later, okay?” he pleads.

you roll your eyes, sighing, “you cooking up a grand masterpiece or something back there?” he nods and hums. you let him have his way, following him back to bed and curling tight into his chest, hoping he won’t be able to get away without waking you.

for the next week, you’re banned from entering kei’s office. he claims that he’s working on a big surprise for you, which melts your heart and makes you laugh.

one night after dinner, he takes you by the hand and leads you to his office. dramatic as ever, he makes you close your eyes before he opens the door and guides you inside. when you open your eyes, you see the fruits of his efforts.

before you lies a little nook crafted out of throws and cushions. you giggle as you take in his little nest. it looks so cosy and inviting. 

you exclaim, “kei, this is so sweet!” you turn around and warmly hug him, content to nuzzle into his zesty scent. he kisses your forehead and nudges you closer to his nest. he holds your hand as you sit down in the centre of it, relishing in his overpowering musk. he sits next to you and cuddles with you, peppering your face and neck with tender kisses as he mumbles against your hot flesh how much he loves you.

interpretive dance and singing

it’s the peak of spring; the flowers are in full bloom, the skies are blue, and the temperature is just right for you to wear all your favourite dresses.

tonight is like most other nights. after preening kei’s feathers, you take a shower. you’re soothing moisturiser into your skin as your boyfriend comes into view. you gaze at him in the mirror, smiling brightly. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, ignorant of the damp towel enveloping your body.

pouring body oil into your palm, you tell him to move. but he doesn’t budge an inch. instead, he wipes the oil out of your palm and warms it in his rough hands. he caresses your shoulders, briefly massaging them before rubbing the oil into your back. his fingertips dip below the towel’s edge, earning a sigh from you.

you tilt your head back to look at your lover. he grins down at you and gently kisses you while wrapping his arms around yours and pulling you back into his firm body.

craving his sweetness, you turn around in his hold, cupping his cheeks and deepening the kiss. tongues swirl and ignite a buried fire in the pits of your stomachs.

kei’s hands roam your body as he sucks on your lower lip. such teasing touches have your towel slipping and eventually pooling on the bathroom floor. he grips your hips, squeezing them as he groans into your mouth.

you two separate for a brief moment, catching your breath and each other’s eyes. he gazes at you lustfully; he’s desperate to mould your body to his all night long, to make you his in the most intimate of ways.

your fingers trail up his exposed biceps before you wrap your arms around his neck. you draw him down to you, smirking as you whisper in his ear, “i know you want me, baby.”

he chuckles gruffly against your skin, the sound doing unholy things to you. his citrusy scent is intoxicating up this close. you breathe in deeply, his thick musk filling your lungs.

he rasps, “yea, i do. i want you so bad, dove.” you hum before nipping at his ear lobe. the small gesture sends a thrill of pleasure shuddering throughout his body.

kei should know this by now, but nothing comes for free. he’s seen the cruelty of this world, and even though you’re his escape from it all, he shouldn’t be as wide-eyed and breathless from your next words.

“oh yea? show me,” you whisper seductively. it’s like everything was dark before you spoke. and now that you have, the lights have been switched on. your words are like the gospel, true and calling him to action. and yet, they’re so impure. kei has been enlightened.

he steps back from you, the cool air wafting over your bare skin. your nipples harden as you bite your lip, looking at him nervously. your lover shakes his head, saying lowly, “meet me in the living room once you’re done.” you hum as you nod, rather intrigued by kei’s sudden change in mood.

when you’ve finally finished your post-shower routine, you head to the living room. your jaw slackens, and your brows raise as you enter, seeing the coffee table moved and couches pushed back to create space in the centre. you blink dumbly as he comes over to you.

he wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to one of the sofas, saying cockily, “take a seat, chickpea.” you follow his instruction, making yourself comfortable on the sofa while your boyfriend steps back. he catches your eyes, the look in his awfully serious.

you ask confused, “kei, what’s going on?” he shakes his head.

clearing his throat, he begins to sing. you blink at him dumbly as you register his sweet praises that are surprisingly on-key. he spreads his arms wide before rolling his wrists and body in time with his words. you grab the nearest cushion and hold it tight as your mouth hangs open.

your eyes are trained on his quick, rhythmic movements. he spins around and jumps, his voice never faltering. you shriek playfully as he locks eyes with you. his wings spread out to his sides, his beautiful feathers on full display. you can feel your face heating up, cooking beneath the heat of this moment.

you can’t stop staring at him, drinking in how good he is at interpretive dance. you shriek again as he slaps his thighs in a wide stance. your laugh is stuttered as you raise the cushion up, blocking your view of him.

his singing stops and in a moment, the cushion is snatched from your hands and hurled across the room.

he pants, “’m not done, dove. watch me.”

you stutter in disbelief, “n-not done?” he hums as he steps back, ready to continue his performance.

shaking your head, you exclaim, “kei, kei, it’s okay! you don’t have to keep going.”

he pouts, “don’t you like my dance? or my song?” you’re rendered speechless as you stare at him. he tilts his head toward you expectantly, but you can’t speak. you’re far too stunned by his musical display to say anything. the air shifts as he chuckles softly and steps toward you. he plops down on top of you, squishing you against the sofa.

he mutters into the crook of your neck, “did i show you have much i want you?” you groan from his weight as you thread your fingers through his hair.

you kiss his damp forehead, saying amusedly, “oh yea. i, uh, i liked that song you sang. what’s it called? ‘the bird in me’?” he bites your shoulder lightly, but the sudden sensation makes you gasp.

your hands are already shoving at his chest as he grunts sarcastically, “yea, it’s called ‘the bird in me’. i wrote it just for you, chickpea.” he raises his head and pulls off you a little, giving you a bit of breathing room. your chest rises high, grazing his as you take in the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“now, let me have my reward.”

Hellooo, i really love all your bnha fics! And i was thinking that if you could write a little something about like class 1-A as a pack, maybe? Any dynamics you want in any kind of genre. I just really lack bnha pack fics and i want some😅😭

(most of) 1-a pack dynamics

alphas: bakugou, kiri, shoto, izuku, mina, tenya, momo betas: hanta, jirou, asui, tokoyami, shoji omegas: denki, ochaco

domestic setting, fluff, sexual implications at the end

bakugou is the designated cook ⟶ when he's not training, he's in the kitchen cooking up a storm

always piling heaps of food on the omegas plates

"why're you not eating?! i made that fresh just for you, ungrateful brat!" (affectionate)

who gets to sit at the head of the table? the alphas had a brawl a few hours after moving in to settle the issue

shoto, bakugou, and izuku were left standing, bruised, bloody and ready to rip out each other's throats for that seat

hanta and asui insisted on a truce ⟶ a daily roster where one alpha gets to sit at the head of table for one day and then a different one sits there the next day

any slightest disagreement between the alphas = brawl outside

i think baku would also shove izuku any chance he gets ⟶ izu's just tryna hang up some laundry while chatting with asui when he gets pushed into the linen sheet rippling in the wind

the culprit walks away with that lopsided grin

honestly, i think baku would shove everyone but he just shoves izu extra hard (and then baku would brawl with anyone who shoves izu because only he gets to shove izu, duh)

one time, kiri accidentally shoulders ochaco in passing ⟶ man is on his knees begging for forgiveness as hanta and denki give him shit for being unmanly

ochaco just stands their rubbing her sore shoulder and insisting that she's fine

on hot summer days, asui, denki, and shoto would make snowcones ⟶ denki coaches shoto on current slang while asui cooks the syrup on the stove and shoto shaves the ice

kiri helps them distribute the snow cones to everyone

for the rest of the afternoon, shoto says the most out-of-pocket things ⟶ "these snowcones are so good! what flavour is this one?" "chat, is this skibidi rizz?"

denki gives him a thumbs up before cackling and choking on his snowcone

i'm sorry (i'm also cackling), i think tokoyami would try to imitate the alphas (biting off more than he can chew, a bit brash, physical ⟶ so like baku basically)

tenya calls a family meeting one night when tokoyami isn't home ⟶ baku thinks it's funny, ochaco feels bad for tokoyami, and izuku thinks someone needs to tell him

and then tokoyami just opens the door and all eyes are on him

"WHAT'RE YOU DOIN' BACK ALREADY?!" bakugou yells at him

izuku invites him to have seat and starts with, "you're not in trouble, we just noticed that [heroic inspirational speech about accepting yourself]."

tokoyami's blushing so hard from embarrassment and so grateful that no one can see it

he would lean on the other betas for direction in his life and self-acceptance ⟶ looking back, he's really grateful that everyone said something and didn't let him continue to make a fool of himself

i think shoto would be the family credit card ⟶ any purchases 1-a wants to make has to go through him

denki cries when shoto rejects his request to buy a $400 anime figurine (shoto gets it for him for his bday)

on that note, shoto would also track all of the pack's expenses ⟶ sitting at his desk late into the night, reading glasses slipping down his nose (gnawing at the bars of my enclosure)

izu convinces him to come shower with the rest of the alphas arkjnwjnfnwqfbj

yes, the alphas shower together ⟶ tenya was very hesitant at first, especially since mina wanted to join, but with some convincing (a pros and cons list), he was in

the testosterone levels are suffocating when more than one alpha is rutting ⟶ like imagine baku + shoto + kiri all rutting at the same time

betas would be working overtime neutralising those pheromones

orgys are definitely on the table (there's no such thing as monogamy in this household) ⟶ alphas n' omegas supporting each other😁

and on that note, rut + heat cycle calendar on the fridge

denki and ochaco bonding when one of their heat's is approaching ⟶ painting each other's nails while gossiping, cute lil bunny and bear headbands, doing their skincare routines together, cuddling together in their respective nest's and watching romcoms

but when their heat arrives... i would imagine it's like a frothing at the mouth control yourself situation for the alphas

like... who gets it first? who does the omega want to soothe their heat?

i think ochaco would obvs go for izuku, but she has a sweet spot for baku🫣🫦

baku brat-tamer when denki's in his heat convince me otherwise

a/n: i hope this has fed you well, dear nonnie. i really liked this request. it's different to anything i've written before. sloppy kisses for you mwah!

I may ot may not have found the ruby ring to your long term katsuki bf proposal fic from under th same pin-

https://pin.it/6r1cVxtQZ

https://pin.it/1fzs5FdKV

https://pin.it/3FmgWmA9Z

actually screamed at the second image omg they're so pretty!!!!! i wish i saw those sooner!

i had this one in mind as well when i wrote the fic, super similar to the ones you linked above.

twitter recreation

shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader ⋆｡°✩ — nsfw, porn link below, spanking, bondage, shinsou's a pro hero (and a freak), implied penetrative sex, oral sex f!receiving, 3.3k words

twitter porn video mentioned in the fic here (watch and read at your own risk; please be responsible; you have to login to watch it)

inspired by @missdynamighttt's 'bakugou twitter porn links'

You were scrolling through Twitter mindlessly until you came across a rather… lewd video. You haven’t been on Twitter in ages and were oblivious to the kind of sensitive content circulating on the app until now.

Curiously, you click on the ‘show content’ banner and watch with wide eyes as a woman gets pounded by her lover. What catches your eye is the white strap binding her ankles to her hands. It’s tied so prettily, almost like a bow around her wrists. You tilt your head, letting the video replay as you get a better look at the bonds.

Unbeknownst to you, your lover has strode into the living room, utterly bewildered by the foreign moans rippling off the warm walls. He’s dripping wet, fresh out of the shower. He clears his throat and you look up, seeing him standing tall above you. He smiles lazily at you and leans over to glimpse your screen.

“Whatcha watching, doll?” You turn your phone around, and he takes it from your hands. Your eyes rove over his frame, relishing the clear droplets beading his lavender locks and defined contours.

You laugh nervously, “Y-yea I was just scrolling, and this came up.” He gazes at you briefly, a smirk lingering on his full lips.

“Oh yea?” His voice is raspy, just the way you like it. You nod enthusiastically, feeling a familiar heat crawling up your cheeks. He shrugs and hands your phone back to you before walking off.

You call out, “Yea u-um, yea that was weird.” He stops near the TV, noticing the high pitch of your voice. He half-turns back to gaze at you.

“Yea,” he says, smiling. You can hear your heart thumping in your chest as the seconds pass in silence. What were you doing?! It’s just a video you usually wouldn’t have bat an eyelash at. But now that your boyfriend is here, looking so delectable… Your mind is a mess; any coherent thought left leaks out of your ears.

“Anything else, kitten?” He asks cockily. His brow is raised slightly as he glances you up and down. You gulp.

“N-no, ugh, well…” You start. One of your favourite parts about dating Shinso is that he is more than willing to try anything new and different in the bedroom. You sigh quietly as you consider asking him if bondage is something he’d be into. It’s not something you’ve ever considered before, scared off by all those images of women bound by rope and hanging from ceilings. But maybe something tame, like you saw in the video, would be a good place to start.

Your boyfriend knows the words dancing across your tongue. He’s amused as he watches you fight yourself. He loves that little furrow in your brow whenever you think too hard.

Seeing you gnaw on the bottom of your lip, he realises that you are indeed overthinking what asking him to tie you up would entail. He comes over and sits next to you on the couch. His body brushes yours and his calloused palm clasps your knee.

He squeezes it as he says, “Is there something you’d like to ask me?” You squeak like a mouse, hearing his words, and shake your head. He sighs from how you’re testing his patience. He loves it when you’re shy, but goddamn, is it annoying sometimes. He gently pinches the fat of your thigh and rolls the flesh between his fingertips.

You remain quiet for a few moments before mumbling, “Toshi.” He hums, attempting to contain the cocky smirk spreading across his face as he waits for you to continue.

You say hesitantly, “Would you, um, consider t-tying me up like that?” You burn holes into the back of his hand on your leg, not daring to look up. Your cheeks are aflame, and you can hear your blood rushing in your veins. Seconds stretch on for eternity as you frown. This was a stupid idea, you think. I shouldn’t have said that. He must think I’m such a frea—

Your boyfriend chuckles, “As if I wouldn’t want to.” Your eyes widen and you turn your head, meeting his purple gaze. His eyes are narrow from his laughter, crinkled in the way you love.

You playfully slap his chest, exclaiming, “Don’t laugh at me!” The gesture causes him to bellow, your anxiety about such a request the funniest thing he’s encountered to date. You pout, but soon, you’re laughing with him, intoxicated by his joy. Your body leans into his subconsciously as you get out the last giggles.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and draws you close, tenderly kissing your forehead. You sigh as your noses brush, his lips ghosting yours. They are so supple, compelling you to lean in and seal them.

Your kiss is slow, the both of you testing the waters before your hands entangle in each other’s hair. Hot bodies press together with carnal need, tongues licking and seeking purchase within the other. You moan into his mouth as his teeth graze your lower lip. Your fingers curl and tug his locks, needing him impossibly closer.

He smirks, your tongue sliding over his teeth before he bites down harshly on your lip and then sucks it. You mewl deliciously, one hand rubbing the flushed skin of his nape. He trails kisses down your jaw, his hand pulling your hair back so your neck is exposed to him. You cry out as he sucks on your tender flesh. He pulls off your neck with a wet squelch, smirking lazily at the red mark he’s seared into your skin.

Hands roam and grasp, anxious to feel more and more of one another. You mumble his name into his wild locks, the strands tickling your nose, as he claws at the neckline of your shirt (which is actually his). He groans, nose flicking your jaw as he tilts his head back. His gaze is hazy, filled with lust and adoration. He urges you to continue.

“C-can you-Are we gonna go to bed now?” You breathe out. Grinning, he kisses the corner of your mouth and adjusts his grip on you. He whisks you away to your bedroom. Leaving the door ajar, he stalks over to the plush white bed and drops you in the centre of it. You yelp as your back collides with the thick quilt. When you rise, your hair is dishevelled and your eyes frantically search for your lavender boy.

He waves at you from the bedroom door and instructs you not to move. You nod, albeit confused. He returns with your phone in hand. He plops down on the bed next to you, bouncing a little from the springs.

You take your phone from him as he points at your lock screen and asks, “Can I get another look at that video, doll?” You hum as you unlock your phone and go to the Twitter app. Luckily, the video is still open. You show it to him, the volume turned down this time. His dark brows furrow as he carefully scans the bindings like they’re a potential villain. He watches the video like he’s waiting for a crime to happen, alert and analytical.

After a few minutes, he gets up and heads over to your closet. Sliding the door to the side, he starts searching for something on the top shelf. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him.

“What’re you looking for, baby?” You say sweetly.

Your lover chuckles low, “You’ll see.” He pulls down a black shoebox. It’s your shoebox. The one your black kitten heels came in that Toshi bought for you last month. He drops it next to you and pops off the lid. The contents make your eyes pop out of your skull.

You knew that your boyfriend was a bit kinky. And you knew that he kept certain… items on hand for when you two had kinky sex. But what you didn’t know was how he kept this on hand without your knowledge.

Inside the box was a hardware store range of ropes in various colours and sizes. You blink dumbly, your mouth half open like a dead fish as he starts pulling them out one by one to examine them.

You stutter, “T-Toshi. W-why do you h-have so many?” He grins as his gaze flickers to you.

He shrugs, “I’ve gotta be prepared for your curious mind, kitten.” You close your dry mouth and stare at him as he continues going through the ropes. Picking up a shiny, red rope, he hums and places it on your lap.

He points to it, saying, “This is bamboo rope.” He gently grabs your wrist and places your hand on the bundle. You sigh as your skin makes contact with it. It’s so soft and smooth. You finger the rope as you gaze up at him.

He continues, “It feels nice on the skin, meaning that if you wriggle around—” He smirks arrogantly, “When you wriggle around, it won’t hurt as much as some other kinds of rope. What do you think?” You nod and hum.

You say softly, “Can we test it?” He chuckles as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

He murmurs against your skin, “Sure.” Pulling back, he takes the rope from your hands and unravels it. With his guidance, you raise your wrists, and he loops the rope around them. He pulls it taut and confirms with you that the bindings aren’t too tight before tying them.

He rasps, “And now, struggle.” You hum as you try to wriggle out of the rope. You huff as it glides over your skin, silky smooth, condescending. You end up sticking your foot between your wrists in an attempt to get it off, but your lover’s laughter makes you halt. He scolds you lightly for potentially hurting yourself as he unpicks the knot easily. He unwraps your now slightly red wrists. You point at the spot with pouty lips.

Setting down the rope, he cups your cheeks and kisses you passionately. Pulling back, he rests his forehead on yours. He chuckles breathily, “Not my fault you were struggling like a hostage.” You shift back and stick your tongue out at him. Smiling, he kisses the tip of your nose and informs you that those marks will be gone within an hour.

“Now,” he starts. “Take this off.” He gestures to his shirt that you’re wearing. You stare back at him for a few seconds, computing what he just said. You nod awkwardly, get up and strip off your clothes while he puts the other ropes back in the box.

Once you’re bare, he commands, “Lay down on your tummy.” You obey, jolting slightly as he slides the rope box onto the floor with a thud. You feel the bed dip with his weight, that familiar crawling sensation cascading across your skin as his eyes rake over you.

All is quiet as your boyfriend stares at you, the gears turning in his mind. You can almost hear them as you wait in anticipation.

“To—” You start.

“Actually,” he says while his hands wrap around the backs of your knees. He pushes them forward, folding your legs in a v underneath you (like a child’s pose) while he continues, “Just bend your knees, yea, just like that pretty girl. And give me your wrists.” You lift your arms and he grasps your forearms, bringing your hands together behind your back.

You flinch as you feel the cool rope wrap around your ankle, his fingertips caressing your hot flesh and sending tingles up your spine. He coos at you to relax, and you hum, closing your eyes as he loops the rope around your ankle a few times before tying it off. The intimacy of this moment has heat pooling in your stomach and arousal oozing from your cunt. Next, he binds your wrists together. You wriggle as he fastens the knot, earning a low chuckle from him.

Your voice is squished from this position as you remark, “I thought she was lying flat.” Shinso hums as he circles your other ankle with the rope. After he ties it, he grabs your phone.

You can hear his smirk as he says, “Password still my birthday?” You hum affirmatively. He leans over your body, warm skin on skin. He’s propped up on his elbows, caging you in as he positions your phone in front of your face.

As the video plays, he points to the rope bunny, saying, “D’you see how her hips are raised slightly? If you lay down flat and then I tie you up, you won’t achieve the same effect. But if I tie you up like this, I can stretch you out. Make sense?” Your hum sounds more like a whine as you nod enthusiastically. Your lover doesn’t miss how you’re chomping on your lower lip as he eases off you. He places your phone on the bedside table before sitting on his haunches behind you.

You wriggle beneath his gaze, anxious for him to stop staring at you. But he can’t. He’s in awe of how beautiful you look right now. The way the red silky rope gently digs into your skin, making your flesh appear so soft and supple. And speaking of supple, your ass looks so round right now.

Shinso licks his lips like a hungry predator, sizing up his prey. You gasp as you feel his large hands cup your ass before squishing it.

You stutter, “B-baby—”

He shushes you before sighing, “Be quiet, doll.” You hum in agreement, but the soft sound is shattered by a sudden cry as your lover slaps your ass cheek. You lurch forward, pulling at your restraints.

You say wide-eyed and breathy, “Toshi, what’re you doing?!”

He chuckles cockily, “I’m taking care of my girl. What else would I be doing?” He slips his fingers through your gooey folds, groaning at how wet you are for him already. You moan pathetically, your eyes closing instinctively as you enjoy feeling his fingers trail over your clit. His other hand rubs a couple of soft circles on your ass cheek before he slaps it again.

You jolt away, your eyes snapping open as you whine, “Toshi!”

He grunts, “A bit forgetful, huh? I asked you a question, kitten.” You whine as he grabs your hips and draws you back to him. Those teasing fingers thread through your slippery cunt, rubbing small circles on your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly as you try and think of what he asked you. But you can’t remember. The waves of pleasure emanating from your heat have your brain all foggy. Your boyfriend smacks your ass again.

You cry out his name as you try and move away, but his fingers that were on your clit now dig into your hip bone, holding you close.

He says amused, “You worried ‘bout what I might do if you answer me?”

You shake your head vigorously, gasping, “Anything but that, Toshi. You know that.” He laughs shortly, gently patting your now-red cheek.

“I know, baby,” he coos. He leans down and kisses your buns. He grips both sides of your hips and pushes you forward. You turn your face to the side as your cheek presses into the plush quilt. Its fresh scent lingers in the air as you mewl, Shinso’s tongue sliding through your slit. As he sucks on your clit, you moan loudly. His mouth is so hot, his tongue melting all the tension in your body and replacing it with pure pleasure.

He eats you out like a depraved man (because he is). Air means nothing to him when he’s got your slick saturating his tastebuds. He groans against your cunt, making you mewl at the deep vibrations.

He mumbles into your folds, “Taste so good, doll.” You cry out as he sucks harshly on your clit, struggling in your bindings.

“Fuck-fuck, Toshi!” He pulls off your clit with a pop, leaving you panting and mewling softly. He pecks your sensitive bud before returning to drinking your juices like they’re the elixir of life.

Once he’s satisfied, he comes up to the surface and takes a few deep breaths. His lips shine like the bamboo rope, but instead with your arousal. He shifts, wincing at his painful erection before taking off his sweat shorts and trunks hastily. He chucks them across the room and looks around dazed for the lube.

You whine, not feeling his hands or mouth on you for the last minute, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Licking his lips, he grumbles, “’M getting the lube.”

You laugh airily, the sound heavenly to his ears, “I don’t think we need that, babe. You should know how wet I am right now.” He curses beneath his breath. You do make a good point, but—

“I don’t wanna hurt you, doll. Now be quiet, or I’ll smack your ass,” he grunts.

You hum and say cheekily, “I wouldn’t mind that.” He sighs, running his slick-soaked fingers through his slightly damp hair as he stalks over to the bedside table.

As he enters your line of vision, you chirp, “You look so hard right now. That must hurt. You know, I can help with that.” He grabs the bottle of lube harshly, squeezing it so tight his knuckles turn white.

He turns to stare at your folded frame, grumbling, “Feeling chatty all of a sudden, aren’t we?” You giggle as you return his gaze. His heart stammers, breath catching between his lips at your beauty, all bound for him and oh-so playful.

Your boyfriend hastily climbs onto the bed. You grin, hearing the snap of the bottle lid, and sigh as his hot hands glide the cool lube across your skin; a rather delicious combination. He groans as he spreads it through your folds, excited by how sweet and tasty they look glazed. Even more so when that glazing is his cream.

You rock your hips back as much as you can (which isn’t much), desperate to feel his hands on you again (they’re pumping his cock right now). He gives your ass cheek a light smack and chastises you for being so impatient.

You whine, “C’mon, baby. Just fuck me already.” He chuckles gruffly. The sound curls around your toes and licks its way up your legs, causing more slick to gush from your hole.

He shifts closer, thighs brushing against yours in a wet press. His tip is at your entrance. You mewl as you attempt to shift back but, Shinso grabs your hips and keeps you right there.

“Patience, baby,” he clicks his tongue. Sighing, he pushes his cock through your folds, rejoicing in how delicate they feel around him. He draws back and pushes his hips forward, threading his cock through your lips again. The sensation of his tip against your clit is godsent. You moan loudly and clench your fists, trying to keep yourself together as he teases you relentlessly.

The sun’s chariot is drawn across the sky, descending into the depths as the moon is pulled high overhead. The constellations gaze upon the unholy things your boyfriend does to you that night, bound by silence as you are by ropes. By the time he’s done with you, the sheets are filthy with your sweat and slick, the scent of sex stifling.

In a waste of water, you two shower together, basking in each other’s presence and whispering sweet-nothings into one another’s ears. You sigh into your lover’s hold, content to feel his steady grip, those meaty arms curled around you just tight enough to make you feel protected and safe but not uncomfortable.

He kisses up the length of your neck, mumbling into your skin insincere apologies for all of the hickeys he’s engraved into your flesh. But you forgive him, you always do.

we always talk about dumbification, how he fucks you so good your mind goes blank and sentences become incoherent. but why don't we take a moment to consider him turning into a whimpering, whining, shuddering mess as you ride him.

like imagine big massive muscular daddy alpha towering eijirou and his cute lil gf. him on his knees begging you to let him touch you. who is willingly pinned beneath you, listening to your every command, and letting you have your way with him.

because that's the hottest part. you don't demand his submission, he gives it to you without hesitation.

he whispers in your ear, "you can do whatever you want with me, baby. i'm all yours." and you smirk and shift down his body to suck on his nipples (bonus points if they're pierced).

right think about this massive guy whom everyone expects to be really rough with you in bed, but he's choking back sobs as you clench around him so tight, making him slip over the edge.

the whiny sorry's he chants as he pulls you to his chest, huge cock spurting out creamy ropes inside of you. and then you whisper against the shell of his ear, "mhmm, you did so well f'me, honey. you wanna take a break?"

imagine long-term bf katsuki being hung up on what engagement ring to buy you. he’s gnawing at his cheeks, constantly sighing and running his fingers through his hair for a couple of months, trying to find a ring that’s good enough for you.

after patrol, he browses every reputable jewellery store in tokyo, searching for your engagement ring. he takes pictures of every one he thinks might suit you and sends them to eijiro.

shitty hair: idk about this one man. diamonds are nice but y/n gives more garnet or ruby vibes

explosive: the fuck you mean? i have to get her diamonds

shitty hair: nah bro, you should get something that suits her. not every girl wants diamonds.

explosive: stfu i know what she wants better than you do

shitty hair: 🤷‍♂️ just my opinion man

you noticed immediately that katsuki was coming home later than he usually does. you didn’t say anything at first because maybe something came up, and he did seem really exhausted.

but as weeks turn into months, you become suspicious. what is it that your boyfriend's doing after work that you can’t know about. he hasn’t changed how he treats you. if anything, he’s been even softer and sweeter with you lately.

you decide to confront him about it.

you sit at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. as 8pm fades into 10pm and drips into 12am, your anxiety ramps up. your palms are all sweaty and your heart beats erratically in your chest.

you’re on your feet as soon as the lock eventually clicks and the front door is forced open. you stalk up to a sleepy katsuki, who flings his duffel bag on the floor with a sigh.

when he turns around, you’re looking at him angrier than ever. there’s fire in your eyes as you stare up at him, your brows knitted together and jaw tight.

you spit out, “where have you been?” katsuki blinks slowly, too tired to register your words and respond. he moves to throw his arms around you, but you step back, dodging his embrace.

this time, you repeat yourself with more venom, “where have you been?” you sigh, “i’ve been waiting for you since eight.”

he grunts thickly, “why’d you stay up, babe?” you roll your eyes and slightly suck in your cheeks.

you say exasperatedly, “because i was worried about you. you’ve been coming home late from work for the last two months now.” you fold your arms beneath your chest as you scold him, “so where have you been?! seriously, like, where the fuck have you been wandering off to while i make you dinner and do your laundry?”

katsuki shakes his head, whispering, “baby, s’not like that.”

you catch his words and scoff, “so then, what is it like? i clearly don’t know so why don’t you tell me?”

his full lips draw into a hard line as he huffs, contemplating whether to tell you he’s been hunting for the perfect engagement ring for his perfect girl… and that he’s finally found one. it wasn’t easy, especially since he has just put up with yappertron 3000 chargebolt, skateboard freak elbows, and shitty hair for the past three hours while acquiring this ring.

he bites his tongue, mumbling, “look, i’ve just been busy, yea?”

you chuckle derisively, “you’ve been busy? right, okay.” you turn around and begin walking away from him when he catches your elbow. his grip is firm but considerate.

he tugs you back, making you stumble into his chest. you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t even budge as he draws you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly.

you shout, “just fuck off, katsuki!”

wincing, he rests his chin on the top of your head and murmurs, “no more late nights, baby, i promise. at least not for a while.” his body is so warm against yours, and his musk is so strong. you give up your assault on his concealed but delicious muscles and still in his grasp.

you grumble, “it’s not about the late nights, katsuki. it’s about you keeping things from me.” he kisses the top of your head and rubs circles on your back with his calloused palms.

he mutters into your hair, “i’ll tell you soon, okay?” you shake your head before tilting it back, returning his soft gaze with your harsher one.

you murmur, “so you’re not cheating on me? or are you cheating on me but intend to come clean?” your boyfriend’s mouth falls open as he stares at you, his blond brows raised slightly. regaining his composure, his usual scowl is back on his face.

he grumbles, “cheating? why the fuck would i be cheating on you?!” he licks his lips and gazes past you for a moment, sighing, “for fuck’s sake, babe. god, why the fuck would i be cheating on you? d’you really think i’m a cheater?!” you shake your head, taken aback by his sudden frustration.

he shouts, “I’VE NEVER CHEATED! NEVER! NOT LIKE FUCK-ASS DEKU WHO DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK AND THEN—”

you gently pat his chest as you try to soothe him, “okay, okay, honey, it’s okay. i know you’re not a cheater.” after a few minutes, he calms down (for the most part).

he grunts, “d’you really think i’d do that?” a droplet of his spit hits your eyebrow. you go to wipe it away but he beats you to it, apologising all the while. you reassure him it's okay as you stroke his well-defined back up and down.

you say softly, “of course not. but if you’re not cheating on me, then what else are you doing? i just don’t understand, suki.” he shakes his head before settling back into the crook of your neck; his resting place.

he murmurs into your hot flesh, “just give me a few days n’ i’ll tell you, alright?” you pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands while his fingers clench the back of your shirt.

you shake your head, saying, “you can tell me now.”

he huffs, “babe—”

“no,” you cut him off. “tell me now. i deserve to know why you’ve been coming home so late.” he gazes down momentarily as his fingers curl into your shirt even more, close to tearing the fabric with how tight his grip is.

he mumbles, “stubborn brat.”

it’s like something snaps. he releases your shirt from his killer grasp and smirks. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvety red, ring box.

he grabs your wrist and places it in your palm, saying, “that’s the reason.” he gazes at you expectantly, waiting for you to open the box. but you’re in shock.

your wide eyes bore into his narrow ones as you blink dumbly. your lips are slightly parted, open enough for the flies to make a home in your mouth. and they could with how little you’re registering right now. you can’t think or speak or move. all you know is that your long-term partner just placed a ring box in your hand.

katsuki rolls his eyes, attempting to hide the pain in his expression as you continue staring at him. he huffs, “well, are you gonna open it or not?”

you nod, your mouth awfully dry. you seal your lips as you shakily open the box. inside is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. leaves protrude from the band and petals encircle a bright ruby glistening in the golden living room light; a rose. your gaze flickers up to him before switching back to the ring, and then back up to him.

you stutter, “a-are y-you, u-um, a-ask-asking m-me t-too—”

“yes,” he says solemnly. “you’re everything to me, baby. s-so, yea, will you be my wife?” you nod furiously. smirking, he takes the little box from your hand and slips the ring onto your finger. all the tension pent up in his body dissipates as he embraces you once more.

you squeeze his slutty waist tight as you begin tearing up, trying to process that your boyfriend just became your fiancé. katsuki sweetly kisses your forehead before resting his against yours.

he mutters, “i don’t tell you how much i love you enough. clearly like fuck. i fuckin’ love you, baby girl. more than you’ll ever know.”

a/n: link to the engagement ring design here (please lmk if it doesn't work); just imagine that it's a ruby and not a diamond.

i have been SEARCHING for this fic again since i read it last year. a true masterpiece i am so blessed that it came up on my feed again🥹

❥ KATSUKI BAKUGOU X FEM! READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: a/b/o dynamics (alpha Katsuki/omega reader), knotting, age-gap (Katsuki is in his grumpy 40s, you're in college), he calls you "kid", fucking in a pool, some mention of sex toys, degradation, creampie

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God, he’s too fucking old for this shit. Too god damn tired of the animal that kicks against his ribs whenever the slick smell of a willing cunt passes his nose. 

“ ‘m sorry,” you whisper, rolling your hips to suck his cock deeper in your drooling pussy. He grinds his molars at the too-tight feeling. 

“Fucking brat,” he hisses and clamps his hands to your doughy ass, jerking you up and down his cock. “Knew you were trouble. Fucking told you to stay away from me.” 

Katsuki knew he would end up fucking the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed college girl the day you moved in next door. He tried to stop it, he really did, showing you his teeth and growling any time the sweet stink of your omega scent greeted him. 

Yet he’s the one who couldn’t help himself. Humid summer air brought your pathetic smell right to him, had him peeking over the fence that separated his house from yours like a fucking perv.

The sight of you in your little pool, desperate to cool your too-hot skin, bikini bottoms floating next to you as you shoved a dildo into your aching hole was his breaking point. 

And now here you are, stuffed full of throbbing, thick alpha cock. Because you begged him, all fat tears and plump pouts as your heat clawed at your insides. 

He might be too old for this, but he’ll never get tired of how fucking stupid omegas get for dick. 

“The t-toys just weren’t…weren’t good enough.” 

You’re pinned between him and the pool wall, lips of your cunt dragging along his length over and over again as you try to find release. 

Copious amounts of slick gush from you, making his thrusting easier. Pearly strings of your cream float around the pool, lost to splash of him fucking into you. 

But even still, he’s so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggles against your gummy walls. You hiss, not from pain, but from relief, so happy to be full that no amount of stretching will detract from your pleasure.

“You’re fucking pitiful.” 

Shame briefly shines in your blown-out eyes, a bit of humanity peeking through the haze of animal instincts. Shit. This is why he hates this, why he’s tried to avoid all the breeding nonsense. Omegas are so emotionally squishy. 

Not that he’s any better. One pout from you as you locked eyes with him across the yard made him jump a fucking fence and plunge his cock into your weeping hole at two in the afternoon. 

“Just can’t help it, can you, kid?” 

Red eyes trace over the body he’s been trying so hard not to imagine. The triangle fabric of your swimsuit is peeled away from your tits, your nipples puffy from how hard you were tugging on them before he got his hands on you. 

A little mhmmmm-mhmmmm sounds from lips pressed too tightly together, your head lolling back as you keep bucking against him with your eager, exposed pussy. 

You’re a mess, all swollen and gooey and desperate. 

“Such a dumb omega,” he groans and wraps his arms around your back, pressing your soft body all the way against his, “fucking yourself out in the open. Wanted me to find you? Wanted the old man next door to fuck you stupid.”

“N-no,” you lie so easily. “Too hot, was too hot and couldn’t get off and—”

“Bullshit. You started splashin’ around out here just praying I’d catch your scent.” 

“C-can’t help it, pr-promise. You just always smell so fucking good, alpha.”

Makes sense now why you always seem to be out on a walk when he gets home from work, and why you always seem to need something from him. He was a nice neighbor and gave you his number when you moved in all on your own, a little omega lost in a big college town. You would message him for help around your place at least once a week—changing light bulbs, fixing a leaky faucet, even opening a goddamn jar a few nights ago. 

He told you several times to stop bothering him, yet you never could catch the hint that fooling around with an alpha was going to get you bitten. 

Relentlessly he pounds his hips, the buoyancy of the water making it effortless to hold you and fuck in deep. His thighs barely feel any strain, his back muscles rolling like a true predator as he starts to use his arms to pull you up and down. 

Katsuki slides his fat cock until it’s barely in your pussy, mushroom tip caught by the suctioning ring of muscle inside of you. Then he bottoms out, balls connecting with your ass under the water with a muted thump. 

“God, fuck, that’s good, so good,” you’re fucking loud, “feel so fucking good in my pussy.” 

“Christ, you wanna let the whole neighborhood knowing I’m fucking you?”

​​The fuck-drunk little smile on your face tells him that maybe you do. 

And he thought he was the perv. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he whispers furiously, kissing you with so much force it makes your back arch in his strangle hold. 

A thick hand wraps around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just leaves it there possessively as his tongue forces its way between your lips. You unconsciously moan, your own tongue meeting his, but he presses it down, not wanting it in the way. You give in, letting him encircle your tongue with his own so he can taste you. He pulls back to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth roughly dragging against it.

“Like feeling my cock spread you apart, hm? Maybe I’ll get you a dildo my size for next time you wanna put on a little show.” 

You purr and it makes him want to scratch you to pieces. 

The burning stretch of your omega cunt is bliss. The smell of sex and chlorine sting his nose, make him lose it a bit and press so hard inside of you that his cock nearly meets the resistance of your cervix. Not that you seem to mind it—your nails are sinking into his wet shoulders, holding on for dear life as he fucks you in the heat of a summer afternoon. 

When Katsuki shifts his hips down, heavy cock sliding out of your tight hole, you bare your teeth and growl at a man nearly double your age.  

“Easy, tiger,” he tuts and drops you in the warming water, “turn around and let me hit it from the back.”

He loves that your instincts are to obey.

You turn your back to him with an indignant little huff, bending over the edge of the pool and waiting. Katsuki locks his arms around your thighs, pushing up and letting the water do the work. Your legs float open easily, spreading wide as he spears his way back into your slutty hole. 

“Ever been knotted before, kid?”

Looking over your shoulder, you shake your head, hiccuping as he works his shaft in and out of you. 

“Please, please, ah, knot me. Wa-wanna know what it feels like.”

He’s toying with an ancient fire, he knows that. One fat knot from an alpha and you might be begging to move in with him, but it’s worth it. Your pussy feels too goddamn good and he’s too worked up not to plug you full. 

Katsuki works you into an absolute frenzy, waves of water splashing onto the edges of the pool as you mewl and focus on how effortlessly he fucks you. Your walls meld to him, each thrust hasty and claiming, scented sweat steaming from the heat of your body and the blistering of the sun. His dick curves just perfectly inside you, cockhead purposefully brushing against the most sensitive, spongy spots within your depths. 

“Surprised none of your stupid boyfriends knotted this tight cunt before.”

“Wouldn’t,” your fingers are gripping the edge of the pool for dear life, like you’re gonna drown any second, “wouldn’t let them.” 

“And you’re gonna let me? Just a slut for older men?” 

“Slut for you,” you correct him with a bounce of your ass against his pelvis, “love a big, strong alpha.” 

He rolls his eyes at the shameless flattery, yet still the ego inside him flares to life. 

“Young, stupid omegas always think they can get whatever they want,” he growls, all while keeping a rough pace inside your body, watching how the water parts for the two of you grinding into one another. 

You give him a knowing gaze over your shoulder, sultry and coy. 

You are getting exactly what you want. All you had to do was get his attention, pry at his most basic instincts and now here he is losing his mind over the tight squeeze of your omega cunt. 

Maybe you aren’t so stupid after all.

But he’ll fuck you stupid, he’s sure of that. 

“I’m too old for silly games, kid. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He proves his point by pawing at your belly under the water, pressing in until you can both feel how deep he is in your guts. The realization makes you whine, pushing hard back against him. 

“You think I’m just some toy to use during your heat?” Katsuki tuts, licking at one of his canines. “Just wait until I knot this stupid cunt and you beg me to keep coming back.”

A symphony of sex is ringing in your backyard, sounds of primal grunts, shrill little screams, balls slapping against your ass, water gurgling and splashing.

Any animal nearby knows what’s happening, that nature is running its course and you’re both nothing but senseless bodies looking for the simplest relief.

Katsuki slides the hand on your stomach lower, pinching your aching clit before he starts swirling it under the pads of experienced fingers. You start thrashing, cunt sucking so tightly he’s sure you’re hurting with the need to cum. 

“Pleasepleaseplease oh god please!” 

You shatter and his pride nearly bursts with you. Your cunt clenches, so pleased to cum around a thick alpha cock. You babble absolute nonsense, beg for his knot and a string of thanks yous and pleases and alpha alpha alpha dripping from your mouth into the wake of the pool.

The way your pussy squeezes him tells him you’ve been looking for this orgasm for hours, walls so swollen and pulsing. You must’ve been fucking yourself with useless toys since morning and finally got desperate enough to make a scene and get him to fuck you the way you needed. 

“Poor thing,” he coos, watching your cream float to the surface of the water. 

You’re totally mindless now as he continues to fuck you, body sloshing in the pool as he manhandles you to take what he wants. 

“Don’t even know if you can handle a knot, kid. You’re too tight.” 

That stirs you, makes you flatten your hands against the edge of the pool and push back to meet his rhythm. Over and over, you keep up with him, so fucking fraught to finally feel an alpha swell in your guts.

“Please don’t stop, please. Need to feel it, been in heat for d-days.”

“Oh omega, have you been fucking yourself silly with all the wrong toys, hm? Been stuffing yourself all alone in your room? Should’ve, ah, just asked me to come fix it.”

“You told me to stop b-bothering you…” 

“You’ll annoy me when your sink’s leakin’ but not when your pussy is? So fucking stupid.”

Only he’s starting to go dumb at the wrap of your cunt around him. The beast in his belly is raging, alpha instincts boiling in the summer sun. 

“C’mon, slut, milk my cock,” he pants and slams into you, lost in the way the water reflects around your curves and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He swears your body listens, some reflexive instinct that has your pussy clamping around his shaft until he can feel the veins of his cock squishing into your walls. 

The orgasmic build starts rushing up his spine, inflating the base of his cock inch by inch. 

“Holy shit, fuck~” you whimper at the first stretch of his knot. “Kat–Katsuki, ‘m so fucking full!” 

Finally he bursts, knot bulging into your gumminess until you’re plugged with him. His cum spills into your tight channel, filling you whole. 

Your sweet, stupid omega brain can barely comprehend the stretch. Another orgasm wrecks your body, has you falling face first into the pool. Katsuki scrambles to grab you, hoist you up and into his arms as you gasp and crest and cum all over him again. 

He can’t help but chuckle, easily maneuvering his back to the pool’s edge. He lets you calm down in his hold, your head falling against his shoulder as you try to breathe. 

“Get what you wanted, brat?” 

Katsuki pats your bloated belly, making you squeal as he rubs the heel of his hand against his knot. 

You nod dumbly, eyes closing to focus on the feel of him. He smirks realizing you’ll never forget him, your first knot. Omegas really are so emotional. 

Yet he’s taunted by the stupid bikini bottoms still floating in the water, mocking just how easy it was for you to boil him down to his base instincts. 

He’s too old for this shit. Especially as you start grinding down against his knot, cooing, reminding him you’ll be fucking him until your heat decides it’s done with him. 

insecure

bakugou, izuku, shoto x fem!reader ⋆｡°✩ — reader and her bf went to the beach yesterday and took some photos, she feels insecure about her body, comfort/fluff, smau