Just So Blatantly Evil When They Took The Headphone Port Out Of The Phones To Force People Into Getting

DOA !

feat: izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, touya todoroki, keigo takami, tomura shigaraki

warnings / cache notes: quirkless au for izuku's, other than that all are canon timeline! one sided pining, miscommunication, mentions of death / dying, alcohol consumption, all around angst (what else did u expect... it's me and it's fall out boy. whoops.) jjk version here!

m.list // fob m.list

CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO - IZUKU MIDORIYA — She took me down and said / "Boys like you are overrated, so save your breath" / Loaded words and loaded friends / Are loaded guns to our heads / 'Cause every pane of glass that your pebbles tap / Negates the pains I went through to avoid you / And every little pat on the shoulder for attention / Fails to mention I still hate you

izuku was a nice guy. maybe a bit too nice-- it always confused you. because all through high school he was the sweetest thing-- blushing, stuttering, a little ditzy sometimes and a new level of awkward that you weren't sure was even possible-- but the guy currently tossing pebbles at your window? how is he the same guy that literally almost passed out when you bumped into his shoulder in the 9th grade? this had been happening for weeks. the curly haired boy would show up at the home you rented with another friend of yours and toss little pebbles from the garden in front of your house against your window. and when you finally did open the window, the conversation would dry out a little too quickly for his liking, and you'd dismiss him in that fake sweet tone of yours. izuku doesn't know why he's chasing after you. he knows you were never interested in him more than a silly little high school crush. you both were well in your twenties by now, him with an office job and you with your teaching job. you two reached out a year or so after graduation and caught up, making izuku realize that he had shoved some intense feelings to the back of his psyche, and you were doing great with your newly rewarded promotion at your job. why was he still clinging to this one sided pining? it should've shifted to the next stage by now-- he should atleast dislike you, hate you even. even if you never get to hear the confession he's been rehearsing since that first lunch together months ago, even if you continue to deny him a chance of even hearing him out-- he should hate you. a lot. and yet he doesn't. because at his heart, izuku was a nice guy. too nice.

7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN (ATAVAN HALEN) - KATSUKI BAKUGOU — I keep telling myself / I keep telling myself / I'm not the desperate type / Sitting out dances on the wall / Trying to forget everything that isn't you / I'm not going home alone / 'Cause I don't do too well on my own

one thing you learned about katsuki was that he was an honest drunk. a brash and shameless honest drunk, but still honest. you don't always go out for drinks with him and the crew-- you don't care too much for the bar scene and you can never keep up with the boys (denki and kirishima always peer pressure you) but sometimes you tag along and you manage to have a good time. tonight, the number of people still awake has dwindled down drastically. sero was slumped forward against the table, denki was asleep leaning with his back against the wall with kirishima also asleep on his shoulder. only you and katsuki were awake. awake is put loosely, since the blonde keeps blinking slowly at you, rocking just the slightest bit where he sits and leaning into his arm propped up on the table. you've mirrored his position, only half as drunk as he was-- your eyes are lazily tracing the scars along his face and exposed skin of his arms. you don't even know what you two were talking about. at this point, you were sure you were mumbling nonsense, but it didn't matter. katsuki watched you like you were the most interesting thing in existence, drunken starry eyes idly tracked your every move. his cheeks were a nice rosy color-- either from the alcohol or how you were very obviously and shamelessly checking him out right in front of him. "'m gonna go home soon," you slur your words, your free hand traces the circle of condensation that your glass leaves when you move it. katsuki watches your finger for just a moment too long before his eyes snap up to yours. "don't," he mumbles, but you hear him just fine. like your ears have a specific tuning for his particular timbre. you lean in the slightest bit and pretend to not hear how katsuki's breath hitches. "have patrol tomorrow," you manage to get out while you hold his gaze. drunk katsuki also pouts. "don't leave me," if you were sober, you would've been shocked at how sincere and tender his voice sounded. "please?" you rarely ever hear him use that word. "'suki-" the alcohol doesn't allow you to say his full name, but he latches onto the portion that he hears and scoots the slightest bit closer towards you. in this intimate distance, you can see the glaze in his eyes, a carnelian warmth the spreads to your cheeks and down your spine. for once in your life you can see the vulnerablility clear in his eyes. katsuki is not a desperate guy, atleast when he's sober. you can hear the clear want in his voice when he speaks again, inching closer to close the distance, his nose bumping gently into yours. "don't make me go home alone." katsuki is a very honest drunk.

BISHOPS KNIFE TRICK - TOUYA TODOROKI — These are the last blues we're ever gonna have / Let's see how deep we get / The glow of the cities below lead us back / To the places that we never should have left / The last blues we're ever gonna have / Let's see how deep we'll get / The glow of the cities below lead us back / To the places that we never should have left

"wish we could've spent my last night alive alone," touya mutters as he leans back onto open palms, the concrete a numb chill against his skin. his eyes are focused forward, and so are yours. you don't pay any mind to the security guard who is standing just a little ways off to the side, gun drawn but ready to aim at the man next to you at a moments notice. you know there's no need for the weapon, but to them-- the commission, the public; the whole country-- they need it. they are the ones who don't trust him. you only hum in response, curling more into the warmth of his side and continue to watch the sky as it changed colors. you've given yourself to touya years ago. complete devotion, unwavering love-- support while he recovered after the war and help during his time in rehab. you've given him so much, only for it all to be ripped apart and scrubbed clean with a single piece of paper. if he were the protagonist of this story, he would've gotten a happy ending. he would've been able to complete his time in rehab and come out a different man, one who was willing to love his family and be able to live a normal life with the love he claimed for himself. but touya todoroki was not the protagonist. he was the villain, a villain who caused immeasurable damage and caused chaos and pain-- and villains always get bad endings. you had hoped that touya's good behavior would've been rewarded. every time you were granted visitation time he promised you he would give you the life he always wanted to give you-- he would give you that and more. he hadn't always been the best at giving, but rehab was making it possible for him. touya's good behavior was rewarded with an execution date. a measly two simple lines for any last requests-- (it was the only time he was sent to solitary, he bitched up a storm about making sure he got what he wrote on that paper) and a list with boxes for him to check which meal he would like to have before he died. and he gave you what he had always wanted to give you in one day. all of him, his soul, mind-- he couldn't give you his body since that would be taken by his family to be buried unfortunately, but they would never get his last thoughts or memories from him. those were yours. those were always you. you gave yourself to touya years ago. in return, he gave you his last day alive.

SOPHOMORE SLUMP OR COMEBACK OF THE YEAR - KEIGO TAKAMI — 'Cause I'll keep singing this lie / I'll keep singing this lie / Are we growing up or just going down? / It's just a matter of time until we're all found out / Take our tears and put them on ice / 'Cause I swear I'd burn this city down to show you the light

late. again. to be fair, keigo don't do it on purpose. he's a busy man, things slip from his mind. and yes, it's shitty that he forgets about certain things when it pertains to you-- but you knew what you were signing up for when the two of you started dating. you knew what was going to happen when he rose through the rankings and gained the number three spot so early, and then got to number two all of a sudden. you knew that. there's a harsh mix of emotions swirling in your gut. the straw in your drink has been chewed to the point where you could no longer drink out of it. the leather material you've been sitting on for the past forty-five minutes has grown uncomfortably warm. keigo, no-- hawks-- had gotten too cozy with telling you little white lies. you know him too well to see right through the mask he puts on to 'protect' you, the act-- as you would call it-- and you were wondering what was going to be your last straw. sitting here, by yourself at the cafe you met him at-- waiting for him. it was supposed to be a lunch date, he promised you he'd make it there even though you knew it was a lie. you knew it was a lie and you're still sitting in the same spot, and still waiting. you've already wasted enough time waiting for him, why not just a couple more pathetic minutes wiping away tears? why not waste just a few more moments wishing you would've grown up before meeting him? because if you had, you would not have made such a good home for yourself at rock bottom.

27 - TOMURA SHIGARAKI — Are all the good times getting gone? / They come and go and come and go and come and go / I've got a lot of friends who are stars / But some are just black holes / My mind is a safe / And if I keep it then we all get rich / My body is an orphanage / We take everyone in

when tomura spaces out, everyone just doesn't mention it. especially as of late, he's been zoning out and barely there-- at the league's bar more often than not with a glass of whiskey that he does not take a drink out of. he leaves it out on the bar most of the time and doesn't clean it-- kurogiri cleans up after him. like always. it's been rough since you left. the group struggled heavily; even if some didn't want to admit it. it's been taking twice longer than normal to perk up in the mornings when it was usually you who got him up with the coffee he likes, toga is more quiet than usual, and dabi doesn't buy cigarettes as often as he used to due to not having to share them with you. re-destro hasn't been reaching out as often. it's not like tomura minds it-- he's been wanting the space. and most meetings have been going the same; tomura shows up, usually with another member of the league-- and leaves with no progress on either end. it's not until tomura shows up with compress one day that re-destro snaps. going off about how something needed to change, something needed to happen-- he was fed up with how slow tomura had been acting the past few months. tomura and compress listened silently, almost like children getting scolded for having their hand in the cookie jar until your name is brought up. compress felt like he was watching in slow motion as tomura tensed, rising to his feet with a finger pointed scathingly towards the ginger. tomura's eyes flashed something dangerous-- something deadly. he looked like he was about five seconds from jumping the table and grabbing re-destro by the throat. compress reached a hand out to the fabric of tomura's pants-- but tomura was seething. "keep their name out of your mouth." tomura jerked away from compress' touch. he took the first few short steps before pausing again, his eyes still keenly trained on the man in front of him. "don't ever," his voice was practically spitting venom, "talk about them again. your mouth is nowhere near worthy enough to speak it." tomura's eyes were wild-- bright and on alert. like a feral animal being caged against it's will, choosing to fight instead of flee. this time, he was choosing to fight. whenever it came to you, he always backed down. ran from the situation that was bluntly put in front of him. denied it through and through until he couldn't lift his head from lack of sleep or drinking too much. the entire time he blamed you. the black hole of the group. sucking all the motivation and spirit the second you left. no, you were just a planet stuck in orbit; finally breaking free. tomura was the black hole.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

Now for the real fun! While I have the main beats of the fight planned, Bakugou's other quirks aren't set in stone, so I'm welcoming suggestions.

First - Previous - Next

ANDIE POOKIE! I have a question that's been occupying my brain but I can't think of a solid answer to!

If the reader and Shouto were to ever have a serious argument about something what would it be :0

I really can't think of a scenario cuz Shouto is usually so kind, understanding, empathetic and chill >:(

Ooooh good question and I think I may have an answer!! I think probably the most feasible things are 1) Reader putting themselves in danger, or 2) misalignment on some aspect of their relationship.

A couple months ago when I was on my shit about Shouto being a Grade-A, All Natural, Grass-Fed, FDA-Certified Starer™, someone sent me an ask about Shouto staring at Reader across a party after an argument. I have most of a corresponding drabble written, but it took me forever to think of a reason why they might have a fight!! I eventually went the relationship misalignment route, with Shouto and Reader fighting about money.

Specifically, Reader does not want to merge finances due to personal insecurity. Shouto knows he belongs to Reader heart and soul and there is no risk of him leaving the relationship ever. He sees it as the most natural thing in the world that their next step would be to be one in all things, finances included, so Reader's hesitance is sort of an affront, like, do they not see this relationship the way he does?? so he spends the evening sort of brooding and watching our Reader with a laser focus. But Reader has a Past™ and their hesitance is less about their commitment to the relationship and more about overcoming their own need to protect themselves and mitigate risks; they just need to make that final jump.

I like this kind of disagreement because the heart of it is about how much two people love one another and can come to trust one another, rather than it truly being about personal differences. And I think it fits Shouto pretty well, because it's still in-line with how thoughtful and caring and bone deep good he is!!

Anywayyyy those are my initial thoughts lol. I hope this is somewhat helpful!!

Poor Present Mic is havin' a rough time in the dating scene... especially when his crush is so close and clueless!

my boss thinks you’re cute

feat: hawks / keigo takami

warnings / cache notes: language

req📌: ❌

m.list

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

Happy Birthday Shoto Todoroki 🧊🔥- January 11th || My Hero Academia

sex pollen troubles - ft. k. bakugou

summary: prohero!Bakugou gets hit with a sex quirk. too bad his roommate hates him—right?

wc: 1.8k

pairing: prohero!Katstuki Bakugou x roommate!reader

content warnings: MDNI, Bakogou has a roommate because his therapist tells him to, fem!reader is an investigative journalist, gratuitous use of Ace (hello gilmore girls fans) idiot Katsuki, pining Katsuki, fingerless gloves make an appearance sorry not sorry, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names like baby, pretty girl, princess, breeding but only if you squint

a/n: word vomited this out in less than 24 hrs

He’s praying you don’t pick up.

“Bakugou?” You sound annoyed, a little suspicious even.

He never calls you.

“Ace.” You hate that nickname, but the thought of saying your actual name in the desperate growl that is his voice right now makes his head spin. “I need - fuck - are you home right now?”

Sex quirks are a dime a dozen these days. He’s been hit with a few before, simple one that are usually pretty easy to shake. (He still hates the premature ejaculate memory, though, coming home with his boxers stiff and an image of you spread out on his bed playing like a film in his head. He hadn't been able to look you in the eyes for weeks.)

He’s never been hit with one as strong as this. The second the mist hit his nostrils he was huffing up the scent of vanilla and citrus and strong black coffee, just the way you like it, before he realized what was happening, the villain ripping down the street in the opposite direction while arousal hit him like a truck.

Bakugou's practically doubled over talking to you now, the ache in his dick throbbing in time with his fucking heartbeat.

“Yeah, I’m home.” Even annoyed you sound like heaven. “What’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

He barks out a laugh, and before he knows it, he's telling you the truth. “Got hit with a sex quirk. A big one.”

Your breath bitches slightly on the other line. He’s pretty sure his cock jumps at the sound.

“And I - " need you right fucking now - “fuck - I can’t call anyone else.”

It has to be you. He’s got women he could call, sure, anyone who might want to get into a pro hero’s pants, but it has to be you for a reason he doesn’t want to look at too closely.

You’re silent for a beat, before you say, “Send me a pin. I’ll come get you.”

He hated you at first. Always talking his ear off about every fucking thing, bringing up articles that remind you of cases you're covering—it was like living with Deku dialed up to 11.

But what he hated even worse was when you stopped talking. When you realized he wasn’t actually gonna come around and be nice to you, when you figured out, oh fuck, he’s actually just an angry prick, and left him alone.

One day he could count on constant chatter when he was back from patrol, the next, nothing at all. You even switched up your schedule so he barely saw you, a fact he didn’t tell his court-ordered therapist because he was supposed to be getting better at being around other people, not worse.

He hates remembering this now with his dick hard as steel and weeping from the tip like he’s fucking 15. The alley is secluded, thank fuck, so no one can see him shaking and groaning, forearms braced on the wall in front of him, head hanging down like a panting dog. He can barely move; every brush of his pants against his erection like a live wire to the brain.

By the time you pull up—five minutes, forty six seconds later, he counted—he’s so frayed and tense that the minute he sees your face, he shouts, “Took you fucking long enough."

Your face shutters closed the way it always does around him, and he wants to fucking die.

“Fuck, Ace, I’m sorry - it’s just, I’m fucking miserable right now - "

“Why did you call me, Katsuki?”

It’s a mistake to look you in the eye. His restraint is a razor’s edge at this point, and seeing your beautiful face is too much. You've always been pretty, but the light shining on your soft hair is convincing him he can write fucking poetry all of a sudden.

“You know why,” he grits out.

You step forward, vanilla and citrus and coffee flooding his nose.

“No, I don’t. You act like you fucking hate me half the time and ignore me the rest.” You scrape a hand across your face in frustration. “And then you call me sounding like that. Why wouldn't I be confused?"

“I want you.” It’s out of his mouth in a flash, and he knows it’s the right thing to say by the way your shoulders relax. “I’m a fucking asshole, I know it. I’m not good at feelings, baby, I'm sorry, but I want you so fucking bad it’s like I could break my teeth over it. It has to be you, Ace, fuck, I’m sorry, it can’t be anyone else - "

You shut him up your mouth, your lips locking into his as both of your noses bump against each other. He doesn’t care; he just needs you as close to him as he can get you. It’s better than anything he imagined, finally touching you, finally giving in to the attraction that’s dogged him ever since you walked into his life.

You taste like coffee and a little bit of that strawberry lip gloss he loves so much. He licks into the seam of your mouth and relishes the shiver that goes through your body.

“Like that, baby?” He breaks away, nosing at your jaw, nipping at the juncture of your throat. That makes you gasp. “You smell so fucking good here.” He jerks his hips, hisses through his teeth as his cock jumps in his pants, pulsing with need.

“Let me,” he hears you say, and you’re tugging his pants open to get your hand around him. The second your fingers wrap around him his eyes roll up in his head. He could cum just from this, he realizes.

“Of course you’d have a pretty dick,” you say with a look of annoyance, and he’s not entirely sure what to say to that besides puff up his chest. You laugh, and it’s almost fond, and goddammit he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything else -

With a growl, he pulls your hand away and backs you up against the wall, peppering kisses down your neck. The whines he’s pulling from your mouth is making everything in his life worth it. He’d fight a thousand fucking villains if it meant this, fingering the seam of your panties under your little skirt as you cry out for more.

“Wear this for me?”

“Like fucking hell I did,” you retort.

“Sure thing, princess.” He runs the pad of two fingers over the soaking wet seam of your panties. A feral grin passes over his face as your thighs tremble and press together. “This just happened to you all on your own?”

He roughly pulls your panties to the side to gather up the slick at your entrance, pushing your hips apart and settling himself between them.

“You’ve gotta come first, pretty girl.” You like when he calls you pet names; he’s been watching the way your skin breaks down out in goosebumps each time. It’s a like a drug being this close to you, making you feel this good. “The second I’m inside ya I’m gonna blow my fucking load so be good and come for me, yeah?”

The rough material of his fingerless gloves rubs against your clit as he stuffs two fingers in your pussy. Your little hole sucks him in greedily as you whine and buck against him.

“Harder, Kats, please - you won’t fucking break me - "

He adds another finger to stretch you out, keeping his palm rocking against your pubic bone with every grind. You’re fluttering around his fingers, whimpers echoing off the walls in the alley.

“That’s it, baby, there you go. Fuck, yeah, you like me stuffing this pretty pussy full?” You dig your nails into his scalp as you hold onto him for dear life, whimpers ratcheting up to moans and cut-off screams as he starts to feel your cunt clamp down hard on him.

You moan his name against his neck as you cum. “Just needed to think about me stuffing you full?” He can’t help but smirk, which quickly turns into a hissing groan when your hand finds him again and positions him right at your core.

“I could say the same for you,” you smirk, rolling your hips and coating the head of his cock in the slick of your orgasm. He chokes on his spit, bracing one forearm on the wall behind you, his free hand stilling your hips in place.

“Lift me up,” you pout.

“Didn’t know you were bossy.”

“Didn’t think you would like it,” you shoot back, rolling down onto his cock and taking an inch of him inside you. “This position’s better, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, you devil woman.” He can barely think. “Baby, I don’t - god fucking damn it - I don’t have any - "

“I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Same. Clean, too, I mean.” He’s rambling. He never rambles. “I’ve got my check-up stats in my phone if you’d like to see them.”

You laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his entire life.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes him aback, but he’s been dying to know what you taste like since he met you, honestly.

“Yeah, pretty girl. You can kiss me.” He nips at your mouth and laughs at your pout when he pulls away. “Let me get all the way inside ya though first, huh?”

He feeds you his dick inch by inch, clenching his teeth at the way you squirm and plead for more. You’re slippery and warm, your cunt making obscene squelching noises with every rock of his hips.

With one final thrust, he’s seated up to the hilt, balls slapping against the meat of your thighs and ass.

“So fucking perfect,” he moans in your ear. “All for me - just for me, isn’t that right, Ace?”

Your head jerks up and down in affirmation.

“Say it, pretty girl. Say you’re fucking mine. Tell me how much you like my dick getting this pussy nice and tight. Bet I can get her to scream again, huh?”

He pinches your clit between two fingers. You jerk in his arms.

“Close, princess? Like it a little mean?”

He rocks his his up so he’s dragging the head of his cock across your g spot, over and over. Your eyes roll back in your head and your breathing gets shallower, shorter.

“Please please don’t fucking stop, ohmygodohmygod feels so fucking good, Kats- "

Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice and all rhythm flies out the window. He grabs the meat of your hips and fucks up into you roughly, shooting thick ropes of cum against your cervix.

The creamy sticky ring at the base of his cock when he pulls out is probably the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

He looks up at you, sees the appreciative gleam in your eye. You're turned on by that, too.

“Can we do this again when we’re home?” he asks. “Maybe after I’ve made you dinner?”

The smile you return is like the sun. “We better.”

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched against him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic

PHASES OF THE MOON art by Thiago Corrêa

Mha texts where reader reposts like sorta sad songs but it just turns out as a misunderstanding. Hope that made sense😅😅

mha boys reaction to sad song reposts

> i tried to match the songs to their "personality" as best as possible...sorry if it's not😓

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