CW// UA CollegeAU, Oral, Reader Is A Lil Oblivious, Bakugo Is His Own Warning

shouto likes bottoming so much he’ll make you stretch him out with two in the same hole on the weekends your both not busy so he can make the most time of it. likes how full it feels. doesn’t even ask to be fucked hard just likes grinding like that

009. CARNATIONS

In the Todoroki household, Touya's childhood bedroom had been marked as forbidden territory while Shoto was growing up. The door to his older brother's room remained closed all the time.

Almost all the time.

No one dared to touch anything inside. It was like his room had been frozen in time. His old computer remained unplugged and was never turned back on. His colored pencils remained unsharpened and his little school backpack remained untouched since the last time Touya had tossed it into the corner

Shoto had been put in charge of preparing the room for you and Touya's arrival. Fuyumi had asked him to since she was busy cleaning the guest room for you with Natsuo.

Touya would be back home in this room. That was all Shoto could think about as he stood outside the bedroom, a duster and small box of cleaning wipes in his hands

Shoto remembers the times he'd hear the quiet creaks of footsteps against the floorboard late at night, right before hearing Touya's door be slowly pushed open.

Shoto had trouble sleeping when he was younger. He was always able to hear the sound of someone opening Touya's bedroom door late at night. He'd lay in bed, his heart practically beating out of his chest at the thought of his Touya-nii returning home.

He'd get out bed, putting on his slippers and walking towards the door as quietly as he possibly could

There would be this flittering hope inside of the young boy's chest. A small voice in the back of his mind calling out Touya's name. He could already picture his brother's face as he slept, soft cheeks puffed up as he breathed in and out. The reassuring rise and fall of his chest was a sight Shoto desperately wanted to see

Shoto remembers the quiet sound of shuffling inside the room. Movement. Someone was inside.

He didn't know what to do when met with the sight of Natsuo laying in Touya's bed as he cried quietly, his sobs muffled by his brother's pillow. His palms would clutch the blankets and pillows with desperation, a sheen of sweat coating the younger boy's skin as his eyes were screwed shut in pain. Natsuo would be repeating the words "come back nii-san." over and over again.

Touya's last surgery before the holidays had taken place yesterday.

His doctors had been working hard as ever, pushing themselves to the brink of exhaustion as they worked to restore Touya's strength and skin. While his complexion would never be 'normal' again, it had gotten better. It was similar to how he looked when he had first waken up from his coma. While some of the pale, unburnt skin peaked through—there was still the slight discolorizution of burns all over his body.

He's peeling back the bandages on his face, unraveling the soft cloth as it falls into the sink in front of him. He no longer saw Dabi when he looked into the mirror, he saw Touya. He flexes his hands, curling them into the fist and admiring the way the once burnt flesh was restored to something much more healthier. Albeit still scarred—but better.

He stares at his reflection a while longer, tugging the white locks of hair out of his face as he traced over his features, trying to see the man underneath all the scars.

His footsteps are slow and drowsy as he walks back into his room. He squints in the dark as he stares at the red letters of the clock on his bedside table, reading 2:06 AM.

Touya cannot sleep. His small travel bag is packed, sitting on the small couch in his room and waiting to be swung over his shoulder. Knowing he'd be visiting his home in just a little over a week felt like some sort of a fever dream.

His regret and guilt for all of what he had done was embedded into his heart like permanent stitches. It would take so long for those stitches to come undone and for his heart to completely heal. He hadn't apologized to his siblings or mother yet, he hadn't even seen them after the war. Just knowing he hurt them all was a heavy burden on his heart.

Fuyumi and Natsuo were his siblings. They were the ones he had grown up with, they were his family. Shoto on the other hand, felt like some sort of out worldly being to Touya. He blamed his father for how he viewed Shoto. The youngest Todoroki had always felt like some sort of an outsider to Touya, he never really did accept him when he was younger.

Touya saw how your eyes would soften whenever you spoke of his youngest brother. There would be this faraway look in your eyes as you told Touya about Shoto's letters. You'd explain to him how Shoto had a hard time communicating his feelings verbally, so he often wrote down what his heart had to say when his mouth couldn't.

Touya doesn't know when he grabbed the pen or the paper. All he knows is that he did, and suddenly the letters on the page in front of him were forming words.

His handwriting had improved, thanks to you. His spelling too. He could make out the words he was writing when he read back what he had written. His hand moved slowly, languid strokes appearing on the page from his pencil. Touya imagines Shoto isn't very good at reading between the lines from what you've told him about his brother—so he makes his words as short and straight to the point as he can.

Dear Shoto,

I am sorry. I hope we can start over again. I am not good at talking about how I feel either. I like the idea of letters.

Touya.

There were only a few words that Touya had written down, but he read them over and over again until his eyes threatened to close on him. He dragged himself over to the hospital bed, his exhaustion finally hitting him as he fell into a deep slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.

Clutching Touya's winter clothes to your chest, you slowly click his door open and enter. He should've been awake by now—but the sound of his heavy breathing makes you pause in the doorway

You can't help but smile at the sight of him. He's wearing a loose, short sleeve shirt as he laid on his stomach, cheek smushed against his pillow as his hair tickled his brow bone. His back rose and fell slowly.

You set down his things onto the small pull out couch before quietly moving to open the blinds to allow some light to shine into the room.

He stirs the moment the sun's rays fall on him, rolling onto his side with a small groan before going slack again.

Touya's not usually this tired. You imagine he must have had trouble sleeping last night—and the thought makes you frown a little bit.

His sleeping pattern had definitely gotten better, but there were still some nights he'd wake up in a cold sweat to an empty room. Those were moments he needed you most—but, unfortunately for him, you couldn't be with Touya all the time.

It was only a matter of days until the two of you would be sleeping under the same roof in his old home. Your hands are gentle as you splay them over the expanse of Touya's back, and you nudge him awake softly while calling out his name

He wakes up slowly, lashes fluttering as he raises his cheek from his pillow. His eyes widen a bit when he catches sight of you standing over him, and he quickly pushes himself off of his elbows to sit up

"Y/n," He rasps quietly, and you quickly move to unscrew the cap of the bottle of water you had brought, offering it to him. Touya grabs it slowly, taking large, grateful gulps of the chilled drink. You quickly avert your gaze to look down at the floor after seeing the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed down the water.

"Good morning, Touya. How did you sleep?" You ask, carefully dragging your chair closer to his bed as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. His hair is a fluffy mess, and his bangs hang in front of his eyes in wisps as he sends you a sleepy smile

"Like shit. I had a weird dream about Shoto though...he was a fish and I was trying to stab him with my fishing hook, but the little jerk kept...slipping away." He mumbles tiredly, immediately wincing at the look of genuine concern on your face

"That is...very interesting, Touya!"

The rest of the morning consisted of the usual day to day activities. You and Touya had a small chat about Natsuo and Fuyumi, and he spoke of the little bits and pieces he remembered about them from his childhood. There was a small but fond smile on his face as he recalls the times Natsuo and him would play outside in the rain together, a little Fuyumi following them and jumping around in her rain boots.

In the afternoon, you both walked through the gardens once again. Sitting in the grass for a while, you taught Touya a few more breathing exercises for him to practice on. You hold his hand in a gentle grip, a single finger pressed over his pulse as Touya imagined himself melting into the ground.

The grass was covered with a soft layer of dewy snow, and every time Touya exhaled—there would be puffs of chilling white air swirling from his mouth. The cold weather didn't stop either of you from wandering outside—only because you had practically suffocated Touya with a bundle of jackets and enough layers to keep him warm enough through an ice age.

Night came just as it always did, but Touya was about to break routine just a little bit.

His fingers brush over the crinkled paper under his pillow. It had been folded into thirds, and the creases in the paper were very prominent. The reason for this was due to the fact that Touya kept on unfolding and folding the letter over and over again—re reading his words and trying to figure out how to give his letter to you so you could make sure it got to Shoto.

Touya wanted Shoto to read his letter before he came back home, just so Shoto knew that if Touya wouldn't meet his gaze or if his responses to him were cut short—he was still trying his best.

"What's that, Touya?" You question curiously, tilting your head and offering the paper in his hands a quick glance. He stares down at it for a moment before speaking

"I..want you to give this to Shoto."

There's a beat of silence that passes between the two of you. It was like he'd dropped a rock into still water, watching the rippling effects before the surface went still once again. There's a hundred questions swirling in your eyes. Touya can see them. He grabs your hand slowly, gently swiping his thumb over the familiar skin of your knuckles before he places the paper in your hands

"Read it."

Your eyes slowly drag from his eyes to the paper that rested in your hands. His eyes were solemn, forever patient as he waited for you to open his letter

"Are you sure, Touya?" You ask softly, making no move to open the letter until he gave you his confirmation

He nods slowly, staying quiet for a moment before speaking

"I want you to, Y/n."

He needs you to try and understand his feelings for Shoto, which were complicated beyond belief. He used to hold nothing for resentment for him, a hatred that seemed too strong to put out. But now it was put out, and in place of his hatred was a feeling Touya was having a lot of trouble understanding.

Shoto was a good kid. Touya didn't want to mess this up.

You nod before your fingers move to open the letter. Your eyes flow over the few words written on the page quietly. Touya's suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed with how hard and long you were staring at his letter. Come on, his hand writing had improved! Were you still having trouble reading it?

He's about to speak when you suddenly fold the letter back up, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, personal agenda. There's delicate flowers plastered onto the cover of it, and you open it up to today's date before tucking Touya's letter in between the pages. You close it and place it back into your bag as Touya exhales through his nose

"Thank you," He murmurs quietly, his cheeks flushing warm under your gratifying gaze

There's so many more things Touya wants to say to you. He wants to grab your hands and kiss each one of your fingertips, sensually and slowly.

He thinks you want to reach out and touch him too. Your hand is gentle as you thread your fingers through his and squeeze. There's a thousand unspoken words in the gesture.

Whatever was between you and Touya was an undeniable thing. But your gentle smile is almost like you're saying not yet. He wants to ask you when. But for now, he'll just squeeze your hand back instead.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; hi fellow readers!! :3 i was thinking abt that scene where little touya was trying to talk to little natsuo about endeavor while they were laying down and little natsuo is just falling asleep & nawtt listening. imagine how much he wished he could get those moments with his big bro back after touya burned up 🥺

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bakugou “do it yourself—no—i’ll do it” katsuki.

In simple theory, you have your husband, Bakugou Katsuki, wrapped around your finger. And he can fight it all he wants, but it’s nothing if not the wholehearted truth.

“Hey, can you grab me some coffee?”

Bakugou didn’t even look up from his phone. “No. Get your own damn coffee.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, turning your attention back to your work. You didn’t miss the way Bakugou grumbled under his breath as he stood up a few moments later. When he returned, he placed a steaming cup of coffee on your desk without a word.

You hid your smile behind the rim of the cup. “Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, glaring at you.

-

Later that afternoon, you two were sparring in the gym in the comfort of your home—courtesy to your husband insisting that it’s a non-negotiable when arranging the first designs of your dream home together. You were struggling to move one of the heavier training dummies back into its original position, and once again you had the brilliant idea of putting your theory to the test.

What’s the point of having a husband if he doesn’t let you do things like these?

You let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to Bakugou, who was wiping sweat from his brow. For a moment, you forgot what you were about to say—momentarily distracted by how good he looks, muscles glistening and all with his signature black tank top.

Goddamn, you scored a hottie.

“Katsuki, help me move this,” you called, pointing at the dummy.

“No way,” he shot back immediately. “You’re the one who moved it there, so you deal with it.”

“Fine,” you sighed, turning back to the dummy and giving it an exaggerated shove. Before you could try again, Bakugou had stormed over, cursing at the dummy under his breath. He grabbed the dummy with one hand and effortlessly dragged it back into place.

“There. Happy now?” he grunted.

Oh, so it could be resist, then actually do it, or refuse while doing it anyway.

You smiled. “Very. Thanks, Katsuki.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his ears slightly tinged with pink.

-

By the end of the week, it had become a game for you. You’d ask for the simplest things, knowing full well that Bakugou would always refuse—only to do it anyway. Maybe it’s his love language to refuse but comply nevertheless.

“Can you pass me the remote?”

“No. Use your legs.” Hands it over.

“Can you open this jar for me?”

“Do it yourself.” Opens it in one twist.

“Can you get groceries on your way home?”

“Fuck no.” What do you mean he’s already loading the grocery bags in his car?

“Can you carry my bag for a second?”

“Die. I’m not your damn pack mule.” Carries it all the way home.

-

One evening, you two were sitting on the couch of your home, eating takeout and watching a movie. You were cuddled up with a freshly ironed blanket—thanks to Bakugou, who had done the laundry yesterday while you did the ironing when everything had dried enough—poking at your food lazily. You turned to Bakugou, your head resting on the couch cushion.

“Hey, can you grab me some water?” you asked with a sweet smile.

Bakugou glared at you, pausing mid-bite, his usual scowl in place. “No. You’ve got legs. Use ‘em.”

“Okay,” you said simply, turning your attention back to the movie.

You decided that you’ll get water once you finish this specific scene.

Bakugou lasted all of five minutes before he let out a loud groan, stomping to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. He shoved it into your hands, his expression equal parts annoyed and resigned.

“There,” he grumbled. “Happy now?”

You took the glass with a smug grin. “Thanks, Katsuki. You’re the best.”

He sank back onto the couch, crossing his arms and glaring at the screen. “You’re so damn annoying.”

“You love me,” you said teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his ears turning red. But he didn’t deny it.

“Married me, too. So I don’t think you mind at all.”

“Die.”

“‘til death do we part, Kats.”

And despite all his protests, you knew the truth. Katsuki Bakugou might have sworn you’d never have him wrapped around your finger, but with every little thing he did for you—grudgingly or not—you knew you had your conclusion.

Even if it’s a little bit.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

Thinking abt Todoroki Shouto, and how he isn't as dense as he comes across...

When reading fanfics Shouto is always oblivious and dense, and yes, I wholeheartedly agree with that—

But i feel like Shouto also does it on purpose, you know? Like, one day you're both talking, and he's just soo up close to your face. 'He probably doesn't realize' you rationalize inside your head, but no, he's definitely aware of the affect he has on you. Your reactions are cute, he thinks, cute in the way he can't seem to stop teasing you.

I think he'd pay extra close attention to people that are close to him, people he holds dear, so whenever you stutter, or your mind goes and blank and you think 'Oh, I hope he didn't notice that—' he does.

I think that's why I like the idea that he's actually a little menance, but the worst part is that he gets away with it !!

Whether it's saying something so humbling and out of depth— something that many would take offense to but think, 'well, he didn't really mean it that way— that's just how he is', NOPE!! he definitely meant it that way, but not clarifying anything saves him the trouble so why should he care yk...

Though, he mostly (all the time really) does it with you. Getting up in your personal space, saying things like "When we're on a mission together, I feel like I can handle anything as long as you're the one by my side"— and it flusters you sooo badly, but no, this is Shouto we're talking about, clearly he didn't mean it like that, right? Right? (And the entire time, he's trying to bite down a Cheshire grin)

So, yes, in the earlier years of being a hero he wasn't really great at communication and unaware of social cues— but now, he's practically evil with the way he acts around you.

Sometimes you think you see it; you're going to call him out on his behavior. There's no way he didn't know what he was doing when he held your face in his hands on a hot summer day, pulling you close and saying, "Is this cooling you down?" (No, actually, this was just heating you up)

But whenever you do call him out on it—

"You know, you're not that slick." You say one day, ice cream cone in hand as you walk next to him, bumping him with your hip. Your eyes slide over towards his mismatched ones, gauging his reaction closely. If you were anyone else you would have probably missed the slight quirk of his lip; the uplift of his brows. But you don't, and the grin on your face overtakes most of your features. Maybe today will be the day he finally admits it. Instead he doesn't speak, takes one lick of his mint chocolate ice cream and then he turns to you, a silent question appearing on his face. A taunt.

You let out a humourless breath, cone tight in your hand as you point it in his direction. Accusing him of something both of you know you won't be able to prove, but he knows you know, and you know he knows you know. But, it'd be really great if he could just admit it, because it's almost like a game.

A game between just the two of you.

"Don't try and act blonde now!" You chide, biting on your bottom lip to control the smile that tries to force it's way on your face.

Shouto smiles at your antics, leaning in close to you, and all of a sudden he completely invades your senses. The smell of mint on his lips is so close, and yet so far. He stares deeply into your eyes, and just as you thought you were getting closer to the truth— he brings his thumb up to wipe absent mindlessly at the corner of your mouth. He pulls back, looks you in the eyes, and takes a tentative lick at the frosty flavour on his thumb. With a cat-like tilt to his head, he says, "I'm not blonde?"

But, the worst part is whenever he speaks about you to others, he speaks so fondly of you; like one would do about their partner— but you guys aren't together. Sometimes he does it right in front of your face whenever you guys are at a hero gala. Shouto sees you talking to a new and upcoming, young, pro-hero and he immediately comes to your side. With how close he is, and with the things he says to them, "I can never imagine myself without them by my side." It gives people the idea that you're both, you know, a thing.

Little do you know, he's been playing this 'game' ever since high school, and even though the two of you aren't exclusive— it doesn't mean he can't get in his fun.

Todoroki Shouto is not good for your health.

ProHero Bakugou x UA teacher reader (best friends to lovers)

Part4

“What the hell are you chokin on?” Katsuki grumbles, his eyes still on the road in front of him.

“Nothing. I just- uhm.” Your hand extends the golden hoop so he can see what you’d reacted to, your free hand reaching to tuck you hair behind your ear as his eyes dart from your palm to your face. “This fell out of the mirror. It just surprised me.”

“Your own earring scared you?” Why did your stomach hurt realizing he knew it wasn’t yours but was trying to play it off as if he didn’t? It was obvious in the nervous jitter in his voice, like a child afraid to ask his mother for a cookie. “Didn’t know you-.”

“You know this isn’t mine.” Why did it matter that a girl was in his passanger seat and planted it for another girl to find? “Who ever you had in your car last is worried you’re cheating. That’s why women do this.”

“It’s not cheating, we aren’t dating.” His hand runs through his hair, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips as you tuck the jewelry back to where it had come from. “I didn’t even see her put that there.”

“I’m not sure how you’d like me to respond, so I’m just gonna say okay.” The thought of another girl sitting in Katsukis passanger seat had never bothered you before, but now it was hard to not feel betrayed. As long as you’d known him, he’d never given anyone rides, and even made a point to uber to and from the dates he’d go on to avoid doing so. “You gave her a ride?”

“Unfortunately. Her phone died while we were out and we drove to her place.” The nervous tapping of his thumb against his steering wheel made sweat begin to cover your spine. He’s always shared his stories (leaving out the obvious details) but this explanation felt different. “I haven’t seen her since and when you ditched me because of it I stopped replying to her messages.”

The dots come together in your head just as he turned into your apartments car park. This belonged to the girl that had texted you from him phone the night before he ditched you. He never came home that night because he was with her and couldn’t exactly take her to his house while you slept in his bed. Your chest was aching.

“I’ll walk from here.” You felt suddenly nauseous and didn’t want to ruin his car because you’d suddenly felt sick to your stomach knowing the correlation between the earring and his absence. “Thanks for the ride.”

He hadn’t even put the car in park but you were undoing your seat belt and reaching for the door handle. You needed air, and space to figure out while the hell your blood ran cold and your heart had felt pinched. Were you jealous?

No. Not when you’d been in and out of relationships and situationships since the two of you met and you’d never felt this unsettled knowing he’d been seeing someone. You were just angry earring girl is the reason he never showed up to talk to your students.

“No, wait.” His finger presses the door lock repeated, not allowing you to exit or get the space you needed. “I know you’re still pissed, and I don’t blame you. But she’s not the reason I didn’t go, so don’t get shitty over her when it’s all on me.”

“I just really need to get to bed.” You lie, trying to collect yourself as you smile falsely in his direction. He seemed worried, overwhelmed and completely unlike himself as he chews his bottom lip. “We’re good.”

-

It took a few more reassurance for him to finally ease up enough for you to exit his car, but it’s not like he was dropping you off. He followed you out of the car park and toward your front door while his hands shined into his pockets and emotion void of his face.

“I’m heading to bed, you know where the blankets are.” If he wanted to crash here, you wouldn’t stop him. You’d stayed at his place more times than you could count, so you’d ignore the thick uncomfortable tension to return the favor. “If you want to change I think you still have sweats in the laundry closet.”

“I’m not staying, I’m just not done talking.” He stands in the kitchen where you’d just poured yourself a glass of water, his keys landing on your small breakfast nook as you raise a brow in his direction. “I’m sorry. I fucked up and ditched something important to you because I couldn’t sort myself out. If I could go back and never even respond to her text that day I wouldn’t. It wasn’t worth it.”

“It is what it is.” Which is what you’d been telling yourself over and over every time you’d hurt yourself thinking about it. “I already told you were fine. I’ll text you in the morning and things can go back to normal.”

“I saw the way you looked at me when that damn earring fell, you’re upset.” He was right, you were upset but it wasn’t like you had any right to be. The two of you were friends- who’d shared a couple of drunk cuddles. Was that the reason you felt uneasy as he made his way closer? “Is it because she sat in your seat? I won’t let anyone sit there again, that way you don’t have to worry about it. Put your damn name on the dash if you want- just don’t ever look at me like that again.”

“What? No, I can’t make you banish everyone from your passenger seat- I was just surprised.” Which was partially true, never in a million years would you expect a woman to attempt to mark her territory in your best friend’s car. “Plus, you said you aren’t dating her it’s not like it’s gonna happen again.”

Your heart beat thumps in your jugular, watching Katsuki lean across from you and cross his arms. Had he always looked at you so softly? The scowl he notoriously wore was no where in site as your hands shove into your pockets nervously. You were uncomfortable being held by his gaze, and you knew it was obvious.

“If it upsets you like this, I promise you it won’t happen again.” You wanted nothing more for this unbearably awkward conversation to be over, so you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. “Don’t do that, it’s hard to con-.”

Loud knocks come from your front door, thankfully ending the conversation when Katsuki moves to see who was knocking. You follow behind him, seeing as it was your door being knocked on and not his. Unfortunately you had a decently good idea who was pounding on your door- and you knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Why the fuck do you keep showing up?” Katsuki asks, swinging your door open to reveal Bryce, the man you’d broken things off with and been harassed by ever since. “She told you she’s done, now fuck off.”

“She’s just confused.” Bryce spits, attempting to shove past the two of you to enter your apartment. With one hard shove, Katsuki makes sure it doesn’t happen. “So what? You leave me for this prick?”

“We weren’t dating Bryce.” You explain calmly, grabbing Katsukis arm to pull him back. His chest was heaving and you could tell he was struggling to contain the anger he felt for his coworker standing in your hallway. “You wanted more and I told you no, I’m not seeing anyone else. I only said that to get you to back off. You’re acting insane, and if you don’t stop I’ll press charges and you can kiss your career goodbye.”

“He can kiss it goodbye regardless, he won’t be employed by the time he tries to clock in tomorrow.” Bryce’s jaw tenses, his eyes hardening as Katusukj drapes an arm over your shoulders. A shudder ripples through your body, enjoying his touch far too much. “If you won’t take her telling your sorry ass no as an answer, I’d be happy to make you understand it.”

“I’ll be back, you know I will. I love you, I’m not giving up on us.” Bryce calls, turning to leave. Katsukis grip tightens as the two of you watch him walk away. “I’ll never stop!”

“Go pack a few things, you’re not staying here.”

———

Yeah idk how to end this whoops.

-Parchy💖

———

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just me being horny about dabi before noon - mdni

dabi absolutely has a predator/prey kink, and it’s activated when you’re trying to watch tv of all things. he’s rewatching old hero footage again, and you’re begging him to watch something else, anything else, and he’s all, fine brat come and get the remote then, so you put one hand on his leg and lean over, making sure to brush the side of your tit against his shirt, and pluck the remote right out of his hand -

and the bastard fucking smiles, something hungry and filthy that makes your pussy clench.

“you wanna play that game, huh?”

you're scrambling up and throwing the blanket in his face to try and get a headstart. "“guess you’ll just have to catch me first!"

you hear his chuckle as you’re sprinting down the hall. “oh angel, you’re gonna have to run a lot faster than that if you wanna get away from me”

he catches up to you as soon as you round the corner to your bedroom door, forearm looping around your waist and tugging you flush against his chest. you struggle and kick, laughing at the confusing mixture of emotions sweeping through your body. terror and joy and arousal course through you so fast it’s leaving you out of breath.

and dabi?? man is actively trying not to fuck you against the door. he's got you caged in his arms and his dick jumps when you make that little gasp, you can fucking bet that sound's gonna play on a loop every time he fucks his fist now. he can picture how blown out your pupils are, your pretty round cheeks flushed red -

“you like me chasin’ you, dontcha?” he whispers into your ear, like he's not grinding his erection against your ass

a/n: AWOOOGAAAA I might have to make this a one-shot 🤌

ochako pls carry ur gf

ProHero Bakugou x UA teacher reader (best friends to lovers)

Part2

Tw: Drinking, dancing (the drunk kind)

Bakugou could’ve found you in a room full of your identical twins, so finding you in a crowed of strangers was easier than tying his shoes. You were directly in the center of the dancer floor, the pink lights casting warmth across your glistening face as you let the music guide your hips from side to side. Your carefree dancing wasn’t something he’d never seen before, he’d been your DD since your UA days, but the site of you dancing with your hands trailing up your body still sucked the air from his lungs like it had the first time he saw it.

“Hey, idiot!” His hand cups over his mouth as he pushes through the drunken sea of bodies. So much for not packed. It takes you a few seconds and a few more feet until you look up and grin stupidly at your best friend. Throwing your arms around his neck you can feel the way his shoulders tense, hands falling loosely on your hips as he leans closer. “Let’s go kid, you’ve had way too much to drink.”

“No, I wanna keep dancing.” He ignores the thudding in his chest as you pull his body closer. Taking advantage of his stunned expression, you turn in his smooth palms to press your back to his chest. “Isn’t this fun, Kats?”

It wasn’t, not for him. Not when you were running your hands slowly from his neck behind you to his shoulders that have yet to release this uncomfortable tension. Especially not when you further close the small amount of space between your bodies and he could feel his heart beat pounding against your shoulder all while not missing a beat of the music. He had a love hate relationship with your carefree drunken adventures, yet he still chose to partake in them.

“Dynamite!?” His hero name catches his attention, temporarily letting him forget the way you moved against him. But as his head turns to see where the voice had come from, he finds himself tightening his grip on your hips and holding you pressed entirely against him. “I knew she was fucking around with you.”

“You don’t know shit, sidekick.” Bakugou glares in the direction of the low ranked hero from his agency, knowing you had no clue what was going on around you. “She’s drunk and you’re lucky she asked me not to fire you or beat your ass. Get the hell out of here.”

“She told me she was seeing someone else, what don’t you think I know?” His hands were flying in front of him, trying to use your drunk swaying as a sign of un loyalty. “I should’ve known a fuck like you can’t leave another man’s woman alone.”

He couldn’t stand there and let this man disrespect him, or you, but when his grip loosens and your hands fly to pull him back he lets the anger melt from within him. You wanted to dance, and he wasn’t going to let your ex boytoy prevent you from doing so. So, despite his burning rage, he uses your hips to guide you away from him.

“Boy toy doesn’t like you very much.” You tell him, mind fuzzing out the conversation he’d just had. You knew you were safe with Bakugou holding you, but even intoxicated you felt uneasy knowing the man had followed you here. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Bakugou agrees, letting you disconnect your bodies and begin to pull him off the dance floor. With his hand held tightly in yours, you make your way past the bar and toward the exit, all while ignoring the fire burning from where you connect. Surely it was the alcohol causing you to keep his hand in yours until you’ve reached his car a few blocks down the road.

-

“God damnit- can you release me so I can piss?” Your body tenses, the volume of his voice making you wince as you slowly gain consciousness. Why did he insist on being so loud? “I’ll even let you use me as a pillow when I get back, just get offa me long enough for me to-.”

You feel your cheek vibrating as he speaks, making your blood run ice cold as realization hits you like a truck. Embarrassment fills your lungs as you try to not freak out and over react to the fact that you’d somehow ended up in bed beside your best friend, clinging to his side and certainly using him as a pillow. Lifting your head, you shutter back a cringe as you feel the dampness that had formed between your cheek and his chest. You were drooling on this man.

“Kats, I am so sorry.” His arm stretches the second you’ve sat up and let him free. How long had you been asleep? “W-what time is it?”

“It’s fine, stop spazzin.” The moonlight coming from his bedroom window casted enough light for you to see the scars on his back as he pulls himself out of bed. You fought along side him in the war, so you always felt uneasy remembering how some of those scars came from him protecting you. “And stop blaming yourself, I can feel your guilt all the way over here.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He knew you too well, he always has. He could predict your mood before even laying eyes on you. So, you throw yourself back into his bed and pull his blanket over your head.

“Do you need more water? I made your stupid ass drink some before we went to bed, you’re welcome.” You can feel the bed dipping behind you, and his warmth returning to combine with yours, but you say nothing and hope he thinks you’re asleep. “I chose to save you, the scars are my own consequence. Stop being a sap and come back so we can sleep.”

“Come back?” He wanted to be drooled on? You’d slept beside him more times than you could count and the two of you never ended up cuddled together, was he not uncomfortable?“Are you drunk?”

“No? I just thought you were comfortable.” There’s a shake to his voice you hadn’t heard before, hesitation in the way he attempts to explain himself. “If you don’t want to that’s fine, just thought I’d offer.”

“I think one drunken cuddle is enough for tonight.”

——-

Hopefully the tags work, some will be in the comments 😅

-Parchy💖

———

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ok not to drastically change topics. but bunny hybrid who hates the dog hybrid her owner also owns until she gets knotted for the first time

FILLING IN | BAKUGOU x READER ˖˚˳⊹

summary: A production assistant for an erotic arts studio, you think you've seen every ridiculous plot line under the sun. But not even porn tropes can compare to the absurd reality you find yourself in when the on-screen talent drops out, and you're asked to fill in opposite the studio's number one star Bakugou Katsuki.  contents: The classic oh-no-the-porn-talent-has-gone-missing-let's-sub-a-rando-in trope, no quirks au, pornstar Bakugou, soft dom Bakugou, gn + afab reader, unrequited-requited crush, slight bondage, descriptions of afab genitalia, nipple sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, pet names used: angel and sweetheart, porn with surprise feelings, 18+, 8.2k words notes: This is my Bakugou x Reader commitment for @ficsforgaza, and I am sorry it is late enough to also count for Valentine's Day (but also Happy Valentine's Day!!) Additionally, a special thank you to my angel princess @ofmermaidstories for handing me the nerd + pornstar combo when I was worried about Bakugou's characterization. I think this is the only way I could have ever written a pornstar Bakugou that felt right to me. Love you, Mermie.

The studio was churning in chaos by the time you arrived.

The first sign that things weren’t right was Komori, one of your fellow production assistants, propped against the wall outside. Her cellphone was pressed against her ear, and she looked nervous, her foot tapping a thousand miles a minute. She had a thumbnail pressed to her mouth and was chewing steadily through the nail like a rabbit through a lettuce leaf.

You didn’t want to disturb her, so you buzzed inside the studio, only to find the hallways filled with an equally nervous energy. Yaoyorozu, one of the production managers, hovered in the doorway of a dressing room. She looked to be arguing with someone, her normally sweet expression pinched in profile. A small circle of people took up the hallway behind her, shifting apprehensively.

A shrill voice filtered out of the dressing room as you tried to wedge yourself by. “I said I’m not doing it. We’re getting married and we agreed I wouldn’t do this anymore.”

“Bibimi—” Yaoyorozu started.

“Effective immediately. Find someone else,” Bibimi’s voice replied.

You stopped in your tracks, blinking as you turned back to the doorway, peering over Sato’s shoulder.

Bibimi Kenranzaki was one of the studio’s top actresses, the very performer scheduled to shoot the production you were working on this afternoon. The shoot was a Valentine’s Day special, and had already been delayed at Bibimi’s request several times. If you’d understood Yaoyorozu’s previous concerns correctly, today was the last possible day to shoot it with enough time for it to make it through editing to post on Valentine’s.

This was not good.

“Bibimi, of course we would never force you to do something you did not consent to,” Yaoyorozu said patiently. “But you can see how having delayed this shoot many times already puts us in danger of not delivering on our commitments.”

You heard a dismissive snort issue from the room, and peered over one of Yaoyorozu’s slender shoulders. Bibimi lounged across one of the waiting room couches, arms crossed over her chest. An enormous diamond ring you’d never seen before glinted from one of her fingers, clearly the source of today’s change of heart.

Oh, production was not going to be happy.

You winced as you ducked out from behind Yaoyorozu, heading back down the hall to stuff your things into one of the vacant lockers. It was a struggle to fit everything in as today you’d come directly from a lecture—two textbooks the size and weight of cinderblocks choking up all the space in your bag. You would have thought that, considering that a wide swath of the production staff were college students—including several of the performers themselves—the studio would have had a better set up. But it was often a fight to the death to even find an open locker amongst the many other bookbags, and an equally Sisyphean struggle to get the door shut on the tiny cubbies.

Once you finally managed to finagle the door shut on your backpack, you made a beeline for the supply room. Typically, your first task of any shoot was acquisition of about a million pounds of baby wipes and lube, though you wondered if they would be needed today, given the scene with Bibimi you’d just witnessed.

You checked the film schedule posted in the staff entry to find the allotted set room. Then you made your way down the twisting maze halls carpeted with ancient olefin to the set for You Cumplete Me, the obnoxious working title Kaminari had come up with for this particular Valentine’s Day project.

The room was set up like some generic apartment, a large bed with a wire-framed headboard dominating the majority of the space. A cherry wood nightstand cluttered with fake knick knacks stood diligently at the bedside, and two fake windows with their curtains drawn shut overlooked the whole affair, red dressings fluttering slightly in the breeze from a fan.

Most of the production staff was already inside the room, the cameramen and director huddled together in the corner, whispering nervously. You spotted Mina, the wardrobe coordinator and makeup artist, fussing with her phone in the other corner, her various products and brushes spread out across a plastic folding table, looking put out.

“You know if we’re going to be able to sub anyone in for Bibimi?” you asked as you approached her, flopping down in one of the chairs set up at her makeshift dressing table. You arrayed your armful of lube and plastic packs of wipes at the corner so as not to disturb her arrangement.

Mina’s eyes flicked up to yours and she grinned, the upturn of her mouth accented with perfectly-applied hot pink lipstick.

“Komori’s called like ten other actresses so far and can’t get anyone,” Mina answered. “And Shiozaki and Kendo are in-studio but both just got off another shoot so we contractually can’t use them. I think Yaomomo is ready to start shaking people down.”

You winced. Yaoyorozu never lost her cool, but the pressure must be mounting. You knew marketing materials had already been put out on the studio’s website, specifically promising the return of the studio’s highest-grossing star—Bakugou Katsuki—opposite Bibimi.

While Bibimi might be the highest paid actress, Bakugou was the real draw of UA Productions. UA churned out projects that were largely targeted towards less traditional markets—largely women—porn that was often of higher production value, higher quality scripting, and careful coordination showcasing enthusiasm and consent. It also subsequently employed more than its fair share of beautiful men.

And Bakugou Katsuki crowned that pile of performers. Though foul-mouthed and often irascible, he was undeniably breathtaking to behold, both on screen and in person. He was the typical blend of tall, strong, and well-muscled that most UA actors were. But he moved with a singular precision and intention that drove fans wild, and came equipped with bed-rumpled blond hair, mile-long lashes, a surly, pouty mouth, and a facial symmetry that Euclid himself would have wept over.

He was also nearing the end of his doctoral and would not be filming for much longer, you were given to understand. So the studio stood to lose a significant amount of audience trust and money, should this production fall through.

As if on cue, Bakugou Katsuki himself stomped through the doorway. The expression on his face told you he was already well-aware of what was happening with Bibimi, and he was getting annoyed with the hold up. He set a direct line for you and Mina, mouth twisted in dissatisfaction.

Your ears promptly went hot, the way they always did when Bakugou was in your line of vision.

You’d unfortunately had something of a crush on him from the minute you’d become a production assistant at UA, your third year of college. Funds were tight and your masters program loomed large in front of you, its meager stipend like a slap in the face. You’d needed something else flexible, and you’d found UA through the friend of a friend—its proximity to the university, and ever changing schedule of ongoing productions offering the perfect amount of flexibility for your situation.

Bakugou had been there that first day as Yaoyorozu gave you the tour, too. He’d been tucked up on the couch of the waiting room as you passed through, blonde hair rumpled, someone’s lip gloss still smeared at the corner of his jaw. He looked like a soft, relaxed mess—clothes askew like he’d pulled them back on after a shoot and immediately migrated to the couch—though his scarlet eyes tracked intently across the page of an enormous engineering text spread across his thighs. His long fingers twirled a pen absently, tapping against a notebook peeking out from just under the textbook, headphones jammed over his ears.

He did not look up as you made your way inside, but your stomach had flared to life with a sudden flutter of butterflies. You were startled by the pretty set of his mouth, the long lashes that swept over his cheeks as he read, the flex of those long, beautiful fingers on his pen. You had never seen a person so perfect in real life, and the effect was dumbing.

“That’s Bakugou, one of our performers,” Yaoyorozu had told you, leading you through the room. She did not stop to introduce you. “He’s working on a PhD in chemical engineering, and performs once every couple of months for us. He’s—erm—not quite friendly, so we’ll skip the introduction today.”

You’d followed her, nodding obediently, leaving Bakugou behind. You’d dutifully concluded your tour and signed all the paperwork, and met several other members of the staff. It was only when you’d been released from your onboarding obligations that you saw Bakugou again, as you ran out into the parking lot to start your car.

It was raining out, a torrential downpour much worse than when you’d arrived that came down in thick, pelting sheets. Visibility was bad enough that you almost missed the tuft of blonde hair across the parking lot, ducking under the awning of the nearby bus stop.

You knew the route headed back towards your university, and subsequently your apartment, and it dawned on you that Bakugou’s would most likely be attaining his cited PhD at your same college. You felt your mouth twist, impressed. PhD tracks were notoriously difficult to attain at Musutafu University—no wonder Bakugou needed a job that was, for lack of better phrasing, quick and dirty. He probably was drowning in post-grad labs and dissertation materials.

The memory of those long fingers tapping at the edge of his text suddenly flickered again in your brain, and something possessed you as you started up your engine. Before you knew what you were doing, you had pulled your car around into the bus stop bay, leaning out to call out to him.

“Hey—Bakugou, right?” you said, watching as scarlet eyes found yours, narrowing suspiciously. His pretty mouth lifted in an immediate, reflexive snarl, and those broad shoulders squared off, like he was getting ready for trouble.

You cut in, quickly explaining yourself when you realized he had no context for the rando hanging out of their car window at him. “I’m Yaoyorozu’s new production staff. Just joined today. Are you headed towards Musutafu U and do you want a ride?”

A blonde eyebrow lifted. “You’re with UA?” he asked. His voice was a kind of low growl, not unlike the thunder suddenly echoing overhead, and the sound shot through you like a bolt of lightning.

“I—yeah. Just signed the paperwork this afternoon.”

Several spatters of rain dampened your cheeks where you had your head poked out of the window, and Bakugou’s eyes tracked them closely as he leaned in. “Then let’s get one thing straight right off the bat—I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You recoiled, horrified at the conclusion he’d immediately brought himself to. “No! That’s not what I—I didn’t mean like—! I just thought because it’s raining out, you might want—”

“I want you to fuck right off, is what I want,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms over his chest. He made a show of leaning back against the glass wall of the bus stop, its interior papered over with moldering ads. It was a clear dismissal.

You blinked at him stupidly for a moment, mind reeling that your gesture had been received so poorly. But then you realized he hadn’t seen you, in your trek through the staff room during your afternoon tour. You’d only just seen him, and you hadn’t spoken to him besides. Despite your immediate interest in and respect for him, he knew nothing about you.

And he was a pornstar, come to think of it. He probably had had a fair number of creeps proposition him out of the blue. Enough that he was suspicious now, as you might have been, were you in his position.

Your cheeks heated, suddenly ashamed. You nodded, gritting your teeth as you ducked back inside your car.

“Right, fucking off, as requested,” you said, turning your blinker on to move back out into the road. “Sorry to scare you. See you, um—see you at work sometime.”

“Oi—I ain’t fuckin’ scared,” you heard him growl, but then you were turning back out into the street. You rolled your window back up as you sped up, resisting the urge to look back at Bakugou in the rearview.

What a humiliating first impression that had been.

You'd fretted about it for another week before your first official day at UA, and for several weeks more when you didn’t immediately run into Bakugou. When you’d finally met him properly, however, Bakugou acted like he’d never even seen you before in his life, and you somewhat gratefully followed his lead. He treated you like anyone else, with the same kind of universal severity he turned on the other production staff. You discovered very quickly that he was impatient, brusque, no-nonsense. He stalked onto every set with all the latent energy of a nuclear missile strike, and never softened until after the shoot was over.

His general attitude, and your humiliating first encounter should have been enough to turn you off of him. But the occasional glimpse of him after a shoot—rumpled, relaxed, open in a way he normally wasn’t, in the way that you'd first seen him—was unfortunately enough to keep those initial butterflies aflutter.

The fact that he was smart—and annoyingly adept in the bedroom, considering the number of reshoots his costars often needed after they accidently came too early—did not help matters.

“Where the fuck is Yaoyorozu?” he demanded of you and Mina, as he approached you in the set room now.

You met his scarlet gaze, holding very still under his regard.

“She was negotiating with Bibimi just now when I came in,” you told him, cheeks heating as his eyes flicked over you. He had a very direct way of evaluating people, and rarely missed a detail. You hoped your makeup wasn’t smudged from where you’d had your head propped up in your hand, valiantly resisting falling asleep in your earlier lecture.

“Bibimi’s a waste of fuckin’ time,” Bakugou growled.

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t very well act opposite his own hand, so someone was going to have to fill in.

“Well Mina says we’re not having luck finding anyone else either so Bibimi is your best bet,” you told him.

Bakugou looked down his perfect nose at you. “Anyone in this damn studio could do better than she does.”

You felt your eyebrows raise. Bibimi was popular with a variety of audiences for her exaggeratedly dollish features—you doubted just anyone could fill in for her and look as good. You said as much to Bakugou, and he scoffed.

“‘S not about looking good, it’s about showing that you’re feeling good,” he said plainly, igniting a wave of fire across your cheeks. The flames worsened when he crossed his arms over his chest and you had occasion to notice he was in nothing but a workout tank, his bare biceps flexing enticingly in the studio lighting.

You were thankfully spared from having to form a coherent response by Yaoyorozu stepping into the room. She was tailed by Komori, and wore a troubled expression. She waved an elegant hand that encompassed both your camp in the corner and the directors on the other side of the room.

“Bibimi is unfortunately out. And we cannot use Shiozaki or Kendo. I am afraid we may have to call off the shoot this afternoon,” she said.

“So get someone else in,” Bakugou said, with his usual brisk directness. He turned to face her. You caught the whiff of something light and clean on him as he did so, laundry detergent and recently-applied shampoo.

Yaoyorozu fixed him with an expectant look. “We’ve unfortunately worked our way through the roster of available performers. Unless you know someone else?”

Bakugou stared back at her evenly, arching a blonde brow. “There’re a bunch of extras already here, aren’t there?”

A little shock went through you. Extras. As in the…people in the room right now? Did he really mean the production staff?

Yaoyorozu blinked, apparently taken aback. Then her gaze slid thoughtfully between Komori, Mina, and you. Another little thrill raced through you, like you’d suddenly missed a step. Surely they both could not actually be considering that.

“I’m a hoe but I’m a loyal hoe,” Mina said from next to you, immediately putting up a rosy palm. “Eiji is my one and only, sorry babes.”

Yaoyorozu nodded. “Of course, I would not expect you to violate any commitments you already had to a significant other.”

“I am also seeing someone,” Komori volunteered, a shy little blush sweeping across her cheeks. You smiled a bit at her obvious regard for whoever it was—until you sensed a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly turning to you.

Your stomach dropped—less of a missed step then and more of a sudden push off a cliff.

Worst of all was the pair of scarlet eyes suddenly burning with undue regard in your direction. You stared straight at Yaoyorozu, unable to meet Bakugou’s gaze. You still felt like you might burn up under his scrutiny, like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“I—uh—” you said dumbly, floundering for the right set of words to explain yourself. “Uhh.”

“You seeing anybody?” Bakugou prodded, prompting a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks.

“Well—no—”

“You clean?” he asked.

Your face burned hotter. “Yes, if you must know—-but uh—”

“Then what?” he prompted.

“Is it that easy for you? To just switch partners like that?” you asked. You weren’t exactly a blushing virgin but you still had only slept with partners you had cared for. Bakugou had worked with you for years and never signaled anything beyond dismissal and semi-professionalism—so it wasn’t like he had that same level of interest in you, despite your enormous crush on him. How could he just switch, just like that?

Bakugou uncrossed his arms to settle his hands on slim hips instead, and he gave you another evaluating once over. “Something the matter with you?” he asked. You noticed he did not ask if you thought something was the matter with him. You wondered if your crush on him was that apparent.

“No,” you said defensively. “Just—I don’t know that I’d be any good on camera.”

“You’ve been in videos before,” Mina pointed out, tugging playfully on your belt loop. “You were in Bibimi’s Christmas special a couple years ago.”

“That was different,” you said, staring at her. “I was her evil coworker who sent her running into Tetsutetsu’s muscular arms. I didn’t have to get naked.”

“We can give you time to get prepared,” Yaoyorozu promised kindly. “If you wanted to um, clean up or trim—”

“It’s not that!” you said quickly, waving your arms. Your ears burned. “I just mean I would be shy.”

Bakugou watched you silently for another long moment, his full mouth pursed in thought. His gaze dragged down your body and then back up to your face, and you felt it like a physical touch.

“Then if you forgot you were on camera?” he asked, a rasp in his tone.

You blinked at him dumbly. “If I—forgot?”

“If I made you forget,” he said, flashing a sharp smirk. The arrogance looked so good on him, zinging through your veins like an electric current. Your cheeks and ears flared even hotter, until you thought you might actually be emitting smoke from them.

You tried to form words but seemed to have trouble shaping the proper ones with your tongue, making a series of choking noises before you managed. “There is no way you could—you’re not that good.”

Something hot flared to life behind Bakugou’s eyes, and his smirk curled even sharper. “We’ll see about that.”

“What if Bakugou helps you get over your nerves, and we just try it and see how you do.” Yaoyorozu prompted gently. “Is that something you would be willing to do? Of course we won’t pressure you.”

Your gaze jerked back to her as you startled. For just a second you’d sort of forgotten there was anyone in the room but Bakugou.

“I sort of doubt—but if you really need—I mean I could—try…” you fumbled out.

Yaoyorozu nodded gratefully, looking pleased again. “Alright, then let’s at least try it. Mina please find proper costuming and help get Y/N ready. I will draw up a short contract with the same terms we promise all our on camera talent for you to look over when you’re done.”

You nodded, a little dazed. Had you really just agreed to—?

But then Mina was laughing, grabbing you by the elbow and drawing you out of the room. She marched you towards the back of the studio building where she’d amassed a respectable wardrobe, racks upon racks of clothes. “Alright, this is going to be so fun! I love dressing new talent! It’s always fun to work out what’s going to work with your coloring and style on screen.”

The mention of you doing anything on screen had all the blood draining from your veins, but Mina didn’t seem to mind. She kept up a stream of happy, easy chatter as she pecked around in the racks like a chicken hunting a grasshopper. Eventually she emerged with a robe in a deep pink, slippery and silky and glistening faintly under the overheads.

“Okay so you’re supposed to be a loving couple celebrating your anniversary and looking for ways to spice things up,” she said. “So you’ll be waiting for him to come home, looking delicious in this little slip of a thing. He can unwrap you like a V-Day present!”

Her callback to the plot of the shoot suddenly made you realize there were way more things involved in the project than just being pawed at on screen—and you did not know any of Bibimi’s lines. How the hell were you supposed to deliver any kind of performance?

“Don’t worry about it, I assure you the gears are already churning in Momo’s big brain,” Mina said when you asked as much. She peeled you out of your sweater and jeans, and ushered you into the robe. Cheeks burning, you let her look you over to make sure you were properly groomed for the camera.

Then before you could get cold feet, she bundled you up and shepherded you back into the set room and set to work on you with her various pots of paint and ointments. She worked a couple things into your hair, applied something glossy and sticky to your mouth, and adjusted the fit of your robe to her liking until she pronounced you ready.

Yaoyorozu was already leaning over you by the time Mina released you, laying out a packet of sheets in front of you. She detailed the terms to you in the professional, clipped tone you’d heard her conduct business in before, and soon enough you were penning in your own name in a shaky hand. The strokes looked almost foreign on the page, and you felt a little more than lightheaded thinking about what you’d just signed yourself into.

“So—what am I supposed to do about Bibimi’s lines?” you asked, your voice coming out kind of dry and crackly.

“We’re going to improvise,” Yaoyorozu said. “Bakugou will guide you. Try to respond as best you can to what he says, along the framework of being a couple celebrating their anniversary. It’s most important to capture your intimacy, however, so we can always come back and reshoot any dialog as needed after. You can call him Katsuki, there are no aliases for this shoot.”

You nodded, feeling even more nervous now that all the prerequisites had been completed.

That left Komori waiting for you. She was apparently assuming the duties you’d abandoned by becoming the star of this absurd alternate dimension. She led you over to what had been meant to be Bibimi’s starting mark on the bed and helped you spread your pink robe out enticingly. You almost laughed as you helped her, feeling foolish and distinctly unsexy for the deliberateness of it all.

There was nothing less romantic than half a dozen other people in the room with you, cameras and hot lights trained on you like you were an escaped convict under a helicopter floodlight. You got the impression that it was going to be a monumental task to work up the nerve to even loosen the tie on your robe, nevermind remove it.

Except then Bakugou walked in.

He’d changed, sometime in the half hour or so Mina had had you in her clutches. He prowled into the room in a dark charcoal suit, the consummate businessman home from his generic businessman job.

He looked unfairly good in it too—the close cut of it highlighted how his broad shoulders slashed inwards into a trim waist, and his pants showcased the flex of a strong, hard thigh. He’d acquired a chunky wristwatch in a dark metal, and it glinted dully under the overhead lights.

He looked sleek and dangerous, even though you’d just seen him stomping around in sweatpants not thirty minutes prior. You felt your breath escape you in a whoosh, your heartbeat kicking up as he prowled closer.

“I’m home, angel,” he said, a smoky rasp curling on the end of his voice. Despite the pet name, he sounded enough like his usual self that you almost answered him in turn.

You vaguely remembered you were obliged to playact with him, and you summoned up your nerve. “Hi, Katsuki,” you said. You hoped your voice did not sound too shaky. “Happy Anniversary.”

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes dipped down to your robe, fastening to the spot where it gaped open suggestively over one thigh. Your skin buzzed like a hive of bees was trapped beneath it.

“This my present?” he asked, stalking closer. He snagged the tie of your robe in his long fingers, toying with it speculatively.

“It should be easy to open,” you joked, then almost cringed.

Sexy. You were supposed to be sexy, not goofy as hell. And what happened when he really did try to open it?

A small amount of panic crept up your spine again, seeping into your veins. You did not feel ready to be naked before all of the eyes in this room, nevermind the roving gaze of the internet. What had you been thinking, signing up for this?

Your hand came up defensively to tug the robe tie back out of Bakugou’s hand, only for it to be captured too. Bakugou tugged you up and to him, and your face broke out in another sweeping wave of flame as you felt the hard planes of him against you. He was so warm, and smelled so good up close and you could not even begin to know what to do or where to put your hands—

Before you could ask him what the heck he was doing, however, he brought your captured hand to his mouth. You almost leapt out of your skin when you felt the gentle press of his lips on the inside of your wrist, the careful flicker of a tongue. Those scarlet eyes slid over you knowingly, near enough that you could see tiny flecks of deep purple in them.

His other hand came up to take your chin, his thumb stroking over the side of your jaw. The feeling made you shiver slightly, and it must have been clearly visible because the corner of Bakugou's mouth lifted into a smirk against your wrist. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, every inch of your skin thrilling with the feeling of your longtime crush doing something this to you.

“Think I’m gonna enjoying opening you alright,” Bakugou intoned.

You struggled to remember what he was talking about, giving up almost immediately as his mouth trailed along the inside of your arm. It traced up and up and up, until he was hovering dangerously close to your face. His fingers tightened on your chin, tilting your face up to his.

And then he bent his head, and crushed his mouth to yours.

Immediately, everything else disappeared.

Kissing Bakugou was three thousand zillion times hotter than you could have ever even imagined. You’d sort of imagined that with an attitude like his, he would be all power and impatience. And the power was there, but leashed, somehow. His mouth was hot and shockingly sweet on yours, and his fingers cupped your face to his, holding you there like he planned to kiss you for hours yet.

Your head was spinning by the time he let your mouth free, and the dip of his blonde lashes as he looked you over was extraordinarily self-satisfied.

His hand on your chin went to your robe instead, pulling the collar wide so that he could lower his mouth inside instead, kissing over your throat. You seized fistfuls of his suit, clinging to him, as he mapped a hot path across your shoulder and collarbone, one of his hands coming up to up your chest.

You heard yourself let out a soft hiss as his thumb pressed over your nipple through the silky fabric. Bakugou sucked a careful bruise into the side of your neck as he did it again, letting out a barely audible snort when you jerked in his hold, unconsciously arching into his hand.

“So sensitive for me, angel,” he drawled as his other hand came up to carefully pinch your other nipple.

You heard yourself make a small, choked off noise like a whine, and you could feel Bakugou’s lips pull into an answering smirk against your throat. You didn’t think you had been quite this responsive to a partner before—but something about the careful, purposeful way he was touching you had your blood running quicker in your veins.

Bakugou’s thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles over your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to make you groan. He teased you again and again as his mouth traced higher on your neck.

Within minutes you were panting, a slow, syrupy pleasure dripping down into your core.

Bakugou tugged your robe wider, then bent his head. You felt the tickle of his hair against your collarbone, softer than you would have thought, as his mouth closed over the point of one nipple. The draw of his mouth had you arching up into him immediately, pleasure zinging through your veins.

“Oh my god,” you said, seizing a fistful of that blonde hair.

Bakugou’s tongue teased at the nipple, and you writhed in his hold. Then he did the same to your other one, and you thought you might die. He hadn’t even touched you yet and you already wanted to crawl out of your skin with impatience.

“Katsuki—please,” you heard yourself say, almost distantly. “Katsuki—oh!”

“Please what, angel?” he said into the skin of your chest, before laying his mouth back over your nipple and giving a sweet suck.

“Oh my god—please!” you said, stupidly. Not an answer to his question but you’d forgotten how to string words together, your brain-to-mouth connection running on autopilot.

“Gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” Bakugou said, and you heard the relish in it. Your face burned, and you yanked his hair a little more firmly. He just groaned, and then sucked you a little harder.

“Touch me! Please—Katsuki,” you panted out, hips flexing unconsciously with the pull of your nipple.

“Thought this was my gift, angel. I can’t enjoy it how I want?” he asked.

You considered his words muzzily, having no idea what he was talking about. Gift? What gift was he talking about?

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes flicked up to yours, and something in your expression must have told him you had no idea what he was on about. His mouth pulled up into a self-satisfied grin, and he leaned up to kiss you again.

You flattened yourself out against his chest, all but velcroing yourself to him. You wanted to feel every inch of that hard body against you, wanted to climb as far into him as you could. Something gratifyingly hard pressed against your stomach as you kissed him, and he grunted, locking you to him with a muscled arm across your back.

“Want me to touch you, angel?” he asked.

You nodded. A smile played across his lips.

“Get on the bed for me then, sweetheart.”

It took a minute for you to process but then you were scrambling to obey, scrabbling your way onto the bed, turning and watching as Bakugou stepped nearer.

He shed his jacket as he approached, yanking off his tie too and flinging it somewhere behind him. Then he crawled over you, his fingers seizing the ties of your robe as he did. He pulled it open gently, then yanked a little harder until the silk tie slid free.

His eyes picked over it speculatively, then flashed back up to you. A look of intent interest settled over his features.

“You ever been tied up before, angel?” he asked.

You shook your head, even as it swam with the implication. Your skin prickled, somehow growing even hotter. He didn’t mean to…?

“You gonna let me?” he asked.

You rather thought you would let him do anything he wanted with you. The question was barely out of his mouth before you were nodding hurriedly. A shocked laugh punched out of him, and he gathered up your wrists, scooting you backwards until they pressed against the headboard.

He looped the silk around your wrists, gathering it into a series of complicated knots. He moved with a purpose and precision, his movements sure and practiced. You tested the give of the ties when he sat back on his haunches, finding that they held firm, even when you put a little more muscle into it.

Bakugou’s gaze blazed over you, hot like coals. His eyes traced over your body, spread out under him now, your silk robe pooling at either side of you in a pink puddle.

He bent his head and kissed you again, until you were fuzzy with the feeling once more. Then he worked his way downwards, softly biting your shoulder, licking over one nipple, pressing deep kisses into your belly and then indent of your left hip.

A shock of pleasure raced through you when you realized where he was going with this, and you let out an involuntarily little gasp as he hooked your thighs over his broad shoulders.

“Katsuki,” you began, though you had no idea what you meant to follow it up with. Bakugou didn’t wait for you to finish, ducking his head and licking a hot stripe up the cleft of you.

Immediately you arched, thighs flexing under his hands. Your face heated when he laughed again, but any embarrassment was instantly forgotten when he licked over you again, slower and more deliberate this time.

“Oh my god,” you said again, biting off into a groan when his tongue dipped deeper between your folds, flicking up over your clit.

“Yeah, angel?” Bakugou asked, his voice a heady rasp. “You like that?” He layered another open mouthed kiss over you, slow and thorough, until you were arching up into his mouth again.

It would have been evident to anyone on earth how much you liked it from the noises you made, the way you kicked and squirmed with the movement of his mouth. He sucked your clit gently into his mouth, then laved over it firmly as he pressed his fingers to you, the pads of his index and middle slowly sinking into you.

Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when he gave another slow suck, the feeling almost too much. His fingers pressed deeper into you, easily slipping in with how comically wet you were for him. The gentle suction of his mouth made everything a million times better, everything a million times worse, as he carefully curled his fingers within you. He seemed to immediately find a spot within you that felt like he was touching your clit from the other side too, and the feeling was immediately far too much.

“Holy shit,” you heard yourself say, cutting off into an honest to god whine when his tongue swirled around your clit, just as he teased a finger along you from the inside too. “Katsuki—oh! Katsuki please! Please oh my god oh my god.”

Bakugou’s ministrations grew a fraction firmer, and you heard him groan too as he kissed you messily.

“So fucking hot for me, sweetheart. So sweet,” he said, then sucked again, a tiny bit harder this time. His fingers stroked you from the inside, a firm, deliberate rhythm that had you turning your face and muffling a keen into the meat of your arm.

Your hips flexed against his face, wild and uncontrolled, wanting less, more, not enough, too much, oh my god—

“Katsuki!” you cried, as you suddenly hit the crest of your pleasure. Your wrists pulled against their bonds, and the feeling of helpless restraint suddenly made everything feel a thousand times more intense. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, so that even the air of the room seemed too harsh on your skin. You screamed as you rode out your pleasure against Bakugou’s face.

He worked you through it diligently, licking and sucking until you collapsed back to the mattress, panting like you’d just run a marathon.

“Good, angel?” Bakugou asked.

You nodded breathlessly, turning your face to his when he crawled up your body to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on him was both embarrassing and thrilling, but Bakugou didn’t give you much leeway to consider it, kissing you into a stupid, pliant little puddle against the mattress.

You could feel him hard and hot against your hip as he did so, but he didn’t make any move to get inside you yet. Instead, his hands moved over you, slowly teasing you from satiation back into want. His fingers played with your nipples again, pinching them softly and rolling them. It felt like he'd rigged up some kind of wire, leading from your nipples right to your core, that lit the pilot flame of your interest again.

A couple minutes of diligent teasing, and easy, unhurried kisses had you wiggling under him again soon enough. It was only then, when you realized you were unconsciously rocking your hips against Bakugou’s, that he finally sat back to shuck off his shirt and pants.

He was so unfairly beautiful, bared in the bright light of the room. You’d known he was gorgeous, of course, but up close he was something else entirely. He was chiseled with thick muscle, his chest and arms hard and glowing faintly with perspiration. The light and the shadows of the room played over the divots of his muscles with a deliberate care, like he was a painting instead of a man, highlighting him in loving shades. A set of perfect abs trailed down into the hard jut of hip bones over his pelvis, and his cock was just as upsettingly gorgeous as the rest of him. It was thick and full and flush with his arousal, and he wasted no time crawling back between your thighs.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice had gone even more gravelly than usual, and it plucked at your core like a string.

“Please, Katsuki,” you said, your voice embarrassingly breathy. You couldn’t help yourself though, couldn’t be ashamed with the easy way your thighs fell apart for him. Your ankles hooked across his back, trying to pull him closer still.

He groaned and surged up over you to grab a condom off the nightstand. He quickly rolled it onto himself in one practiced movement, before immediately pressing himself into you.

He sank in mortifyingly easily, you already half out of your mind with want. He didn’t seem to mind, though—you heard the soft, sibilant hiss of his own pleasure as he filled you, and your robe tugged the skin of your shoulder as he fisted a hand in it, just beside your head.

“Been dying to fuck you, angel,” he said. “Thinking about how hot and tight and sweet you would be for me. Been thinking about it nonstop.”

You made a vague noise of agreement, moving your hips with his as he drew back and pressed inside of you again. The slide of him inside you was mind-numbingly good, the pressure against your stomach as he pressed back in almost sparking stars in your vision. The flex of his abs between your thighs as he found his pace was almost immediately too much for you, and you had to turn your face away. You tilted your face up to his, watching him as he watched you.

Bakugou seemed to read your expression easily, finding the angle and pace you liked incredibly quickly. He slid an arm under the small of your back to angle your hips up into him, yanking you up like you were nothing, and the show of easy strength had your toes flexing and curling against his back.

He kissed you again, catching the sounds of your pleasure in his mouth as he rocked into you. You moved against him, hips bucking, delirious with the feeling of him. Eventually he freed his arm from under you, pressing his thumb to your slit again with deadly precision.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned into his mouth, legs tightening on him as he played with your clit. The almost-too-gentle sensation of his thumb on your clit, coupled with the relentless drive of him inside you had your vision sparking and greying at the edges. His face swam in front of yours, and all of your limbs began to feel shivery, almost too weak to lift yourself into him the way you needed, to rock against him and find relief from the friction.

Bakugou continued to tease at you, carefully pinching and petting. His hips drove into you tirelessly, slapping the bottoms of your thighs, as you strained in your silk bonds, wanting to grab him, pull him even harder into you.

“Katsuki, please please please,” you heard yourself begging. You felt him smile against your mouth, tasted his reply more than heard it.

“You want me to let you cum, angel?” he asked, doing something with his fingers that made your breath catch in your lungs.

“Unhh, yes—please!” you cried, desperation coming over you in a white haze.

You had never—never—been so desperate for anything in your entire life. You didn’t know how Bakugou was doing it, why his touch felt like so much more than anything else you’d ever felt in your life. If he didn’t let you cum you were certain you were going to die, right here and right now.

“You gonna scream for me, sweetheart?” Bakugou asked, his voice raspier than you’d ever heard it. He grit the words out, like he too was on the edge of his own climax, barely staving it off.

“Anything, I will do anything,” you babbled senselessly. “Yes—going to scream for you—Katsuki!”

Bakugou’s gaze was hotter than you’d ever seen it, scarlet eyes clouded with pleasure, glowing like banked coals. “Then you can come for me, angel. Come on, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” you cried in answer, your feet planting themselves on the bed to jut your hips up hard. Bakugou’s thumb pressed hard against your clit, then, firm and merciless, and he fucked into you harder, his pace growing faster, furious.

Your second orgasm hit you like a truck, snapping your spine into alignment, locking all your limbs up as if in rigor mortis.

“Katsuki!” you wailed as you writhed against him, clenching and fluttering around him as you sobbed.

“Oh fuck,” you heard him say, and his hips stuttered. You realized he was coming too, fucking into you sloppily and disjointedly as he rode out his own pleasure. You arched and spasmed with him, clawing uselessly at the silk that bound you, twisting in blissful agony.

When you finally came back to yourself you found yourself slumped on the bed, Bakugou’s weight pinning you down into the mattress. His chest was slicked to yours with sweat, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of it against you as he caught his breath.

“That good, angel?” he asked, his voice heady with satisfaction.

You nodded, absently turning your face back up to his for a kiss. He granted it, kissing you almost possessively. He looked soft and rumpled, just the way you'd always liked him, and something in you purred with satisfaction at finally getting to have him like this for you.

Gradually, you became aware of other sounds in the room as you came down from your high. Quiet murmuring and the sounds of shuffling met your ears, the shutter click of a camera lens slicing through the atmosphere like a knife.

A sudden shock raced through you when you realized you and Bakugou were not alone—and you were on the set of a porn film, half a dozen eyes glued to you just over one of Bakugou’s thick shoulders.

A porn film. You had been shooting a porn film!

“And cut!” you heard the director’s voice ring out, like a bucket of water dumped over your head.

You tensed up beneath Bakugou, mind racing. Holy shit, he had actually managed to make you forget, exactly the way he'd promised.

You could tell Bakugou was thinking the same thing as he went to untie you, looking extremely satisfied with himself.

“Told you, angel,” he said, flashing something of a feral grin. You hated how good the self-conceit looked on him.

You went to draw your wrists back to yourself as he let them free. But Bakugou caught them instead, carefully massaging the skin there as if to make sure things were circulating properly. It was a startling note of unexpected care, as was the way he drew your robe closed around you again against the sudden chill of the room.

You found yourself saying wonderingly, “Wow. It was just that easy for you to switch partners like that.”

The thought somehow stung, even though you’d known going into this what you were getting yourself into. Somehow, the latent care and intention with which Bakugou had fucked you had addled your brain, made you think your connection had been something more. He had felt like he had feelings, beyond those mimed for the camera.

But here was evidence to the contrary, plain and simple. There literally was a camera.

Except then Bakugou looked down at you, a frown marring his pouty mouth. “Well yeah. ‘Course it was gonna be that easy when it’s you we’re talking about.”

You blinked at him, not understanding what he was saying. “Uh. When it’s—me?”

A crease came in between Bakugou’s blonde brows. “I said it, didn’t I? While we were fucking? Wanted to fuck you for a long time. Of course it was easy.”

Your stomach dropped, like a rug had just been yanked out from beneath you. “You—have? What? Since when?” you demanded.

Bakugou leveled you with an unimpressed stare. “Since the second time we met,” he said, and your mind flashed back to the way he’d seemed not to recognize you, that second time you'd spoken to him. “Once I realized you did work for UA and weren’t actually a little fucking creep trying to lure me into your car.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline. “Then—? For years? You cannot be serious. You never acted like we were anything other than coworkers!”

Bakugou scoffed. “We fucking were coworkers. And I told you, I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You blinked again, startled by the level of professionalism couched in the crassess of his statement. It made sense, you supposed, for a pornstar of Bakugou’s caliber to have put boundaries like that in place. Probably everyone in the world would just be dying for a shot at him.

“Wow,” you said, almost to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, wondered how it was going to be possible to behave professionally with Bakugou at all going forward. It was probably obvious to him how big your crush on him was, given that he’d known all along he could make you forget you were on camera. Given the way you reacted to him embarrassingly easily.

Except then Bakugou leaned forward, putting his face startlingly close to yours. “Emphasis on were, since this is my last shoot,” he said.

You stared at him, wondering if you were interpreting the implication correctly. There was no way he meant—?

“Uhhhh, meaning what, exactly?” you prompted, heart beating just a little bit quicker despite yourself.

Bakugou’s mouth turned up into a gorgeous smirk, and he ducked his head even closer, voice going softer.

“Meaning you’re going to get dressed and I’m going to take us to get something to eat,” he said, fingers playing at the edge of your robe. “And then you’re going to give me that ride home in your car after all. And we are going to do this all over again.”

Flames erupted across your face, sweeping across your cheeks. And you were up out of the bed before you even realized what you were doing, catching yourself on the bedside table as you stumbled.

Bakugou’s laugh chased out of the set room as you raced towards the wardrobe again. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, this time.

Not when your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. You smothered a smile as you ran down the hallway.

Much like Bakugou had just done to you—it looked like your hopes and dreams were finally lining themselves up and filling themselves in.