I've Been Thinking Of Nothing But Spollen Reader And Iida Sneaking Off During A Friend Get-together.

happy new yearsss here’s a post war dbhwks doodle

@isFairyclub on twitter ໒꒱ ⋆˚✩ .

Another vaguely Annihilation-themed stamp 🍂

nearly every time you get out of the shower, shouto somehow hears you uncap your lotion from across the house and suddenly manifests in the bathroom with you, pouting until you let him help put it on

can i borrow your notes?

katsuki bakugou x reader (college au)

texts throughout the semester with classmate!bakugou

notes: something about writing for katsuki is therapeutic for me. inspired by my chronic skipping days,,, i've since improved my bad habits

part two, you dirty birdies. go read this first to catch up! summary: A city-wide blackout leads to some questionable decisions on Eraserhead's part: for four nights in a row now, Aizawa Shouta has been watching you get yourself off. Is tonight the night he joins in? pairing: aizawa shouta x citizen!reader wc: 2.4k (oops) content warnings: SMUT mdni, dark content, stalker!aizawa, voyeurism, dubcon, power imbalance (pro hero/civilian, ya know), obsessive behavior, voice kink, dirty talk, blindfolds are involved, piv sex, oral f!receiving, spanking, dom/sub elements but not explicitly stated, aizawa's big dick, creampie, unprotected sex (do not do this!!! especially with strangers!!! this is fiction!!!)

Aizawa knows he shouldn’t go back.

It was already enough of a risk to hear your voice; that he's considering confirming his identity with you should have alarm bells blaring in his head.

But logic abandoned him hours ago.

Your message, come back tomorrow <3, blinks in his head. At this point, he’s just waiting for the city to fall asleep so he can slip out along the ledge and head straight to you.

Part of him is bizarrely nervous to replace the distance with reality, but the thought of never feeling your weight on top of him erases all arguments.

As soon as night falls, he winds his capture weapon around his neck and slides out into the dark.

All day long, you’ve been aching and hot, sliding your thighs together under the desk at work to relieve some of the pressure.

There’s no guarantee he’ll come back. You’ve told yourself this ever since you woke up gasping for breath, rocking your hips against a pillow.

It’s like he possessed you, you muse on the train ride home, the force of the train cars rattling your already frazzled head. You’ve never felt this way in your life, desire snapping and fizzing under your skin.

Your apartment looks exactly the same as when you left, straight down to the kicked-over coat stand you’d jostled on your way out the door. It’s all so maddeningly ordinary that it takes everything within you not to scream.

It’s almost like last night didn’t happen at all.

“No need to sigh like that, sweetheart.”

His voice comes from behind you. Fear zips up your spine like dynamite sparking, your stomach bottoming out in one fell swoop.

He’s here.

Something winds around your wrists and face, obscuring your vision and tugging your body back. You collide with someone who smells like cedar and books and black coffee.

You breathe in his scent as the fear melts to excitement, to anticipation.

He’s here.

“Miss me, sweet girl?”

You’d think huffing him in like a fucking croissant would be a dead giveaway.

“What’s with the blindfold?” you ask instead. Angling your head in various ways does nothing. He made sure you can’t make him out, only confirming your previous hunch. He’s a pro, and he sure as fuck doesn’t want anyone to know he’s sneaking into girls’ apartments and fucking them stupid.

“You’re smarter than that.”

His voice is even better in person; you can feel the rumble of it against your neck. He loosens his hold on the cloth binding your wrists. Your hands naturally settle on the broad expanse of his chest.

He says the next thing nice and soft, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You understand the out for what it is, but you’re willing to sacrifice your sight for a taste of what he offered you yesterday.

“I’d like to do some things,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. “I don’t know what you did to me, but if you don’t touch me in the next few seconds, I feel like I’ll pass out.”

You don’t even realize you’re grinding yourself on his thigh until his hand splays across your hip, stilling you. Flipping you around, he cages you against the door, teeth scraping down the side of your throat.

“You don’t know what I did to you?” He punctuates the ask by kicking your feet apart with the heel of his boot. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a keen high in your throat. “What about what you did to me? Feels like I’ve got you floating around my fucking bloodstream.”

With a growl, he scoops you up and pins you against the door with his hips, mouth bracketing over yours.

“Can’t get your pretty little noises out of my head,” he says against your lips, sounding like a man at a confessional. His hips jerk, the length of his erection pulsing between you. “Can’t stop thinking about that pretty picture you sent me.”

He laves at your collarbone with his tongue, hand resting in the hollow of your throat. The gentlest squeeze elicits your softest sigh. He grunts at the sound, thick fingers applying more pressure before falling to your waist and locking you in place. His breath skates over your cheek; you feel the rasp of stubble on your skin.

“Let me take you to bed, sweetheart.”

God, his voice makes your knees fucking buckle. His forearm is tight around your back, holding you close.

“Please.”

You don’t recognize that whine as your voice; you’ve never sounded this eager, never felt this aching pulse in your core the way you do now. You need him to mold your insides to the shape of him, to pin you down on the mattress and take you.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. You don’t know him, not really, but you like this aspect of his personality. He makes his want for you tangible, so sharp you can practically taste it in the air. It’s like he’d rather die than leave you unsatisfied, and honestly, you don’t think anyone’s made you feel like that.

You can’t help liking it.

He taps open the door to your room with the toe of his boot. Lips slanted over yours, his tongue presses behind your teeth, licking into your mouth in the filthiest kiss you’ve ever shared with someone. It’s a sloppy clash of teeth and tongues; your hands fist in his hair as he caresses his thumbs over the skin of your hips.

“Take your clothes off.”

You obey just as you did on the phone, the rush to do so shooting a wave of heat over your face.

“That’s my girl, fuckin’ eager for it, huh?” You wish you could see his face; you want to match the feral snarl you hear with an expression. He sounds like he’s enjoying it, standing in front of you fully clothed while your arousal drips down your fucking legs.

You cross your legs together and he laughs, the hot span of his hands splaying over your hips as he tugs you to him.

“I know you’re needy, baby; you’re already doin’ so good for me. You listen just a little longer and I’ll make sure this pretty little pussy of yours gets the treatment she deserves, okay?” He cups your cunt in the palm of his hand; immediately, you rock against him, the meat of his palm bunching over your clit. He spanks your ass sharply. “Get on the bed and spread your legs open.”

Your muscles are shaky; your thighs tremble as you settle on the bed. You’ve never wanted to be able to see more than right now, spread out and vulnerable underneath a stranger’s gaze.

Before doubt can blare in your head, you hear him, “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His knee dips the mattress; his hands pry your thighs apart obscenely.

“She’s prettier up close,” he says, and then sucks your clit into his mouth.

You buck your hips into his face. He holds you down with his other hand and sucks harder. The sound you make has pre-cum spurting from his cock.

He’ll fucking cum like this if he’s not careful, rutting his hips on the sheets with your thighs choking off his air supply.

Worse ways to go, all things considered.

“You’ve been pent-up for a while, hmm?” He turns his head to kiss at the soft skin of your inner thigh, slick shimmering in the moonlight. He almost wishes his stubble were longer so he could capture more of your scent.

You smell so fucking good; he inhales and runs his teeth up the inside of your thigh, biting and sucking, grinding your clit on his nose. You whimper and lock your hands on his hair, silently begging for more.

He runs the flat of his tongue over your clit before breaking away. His dick jumps at your growl of frustration.

“Let’s stretch you out on my fingers first, pretty girl. I wasn’t just talking myself up yesterday.” He coats his fingers in your arousal, inhales the musky sweet scent of you like a drug. “You’re gonna need a little prep before you can take me.”

He sinks two fingers in. Your cunt sucks him in, gummy walls immediately clamping down. He drops his forehead to yours, thinks wildly about ripping away the blindfold, of forcing you to hold his gaze while he makes your pussy gush on his hands.

“More,” you cry out, and he obliges, working three fingers in, twisting and pressing and stroking, listening to your small gasps, waiting for the breath in your voice to catch. "Sho, please—"

Aizawa bites down on his lower lip when your back bows, fingers scrabbling at his forearm, holding his hand in place as you rock back and forth on his fingers. One little pinch of your clit and you’re sobbing out his name.

He lopes an arm under you and pulls you to him. Your breath comes out in shuddery little gasps.

“All good, sweetheart?”

You nod against his neck, already nosing at his throat for a kiss.

He doesn’t know what possesses him.

“I’ll let you take off the blindfold if you get on your hands and knees.”

The noise you make is so embarrassingly eager you almost cringe.

You might see him.

You arrange yourself as he asks, wiggling your ass and arching your back. You gasp when he palms your hip, pulling you back against his clothed cock.

"Can I take it off now?" you try to ask as coy as you can, but you just sound like a fucked-out mess. He feels big. You saw the picture but it's nothing compared to feeling the ridge of his shaft pulsing along the cleft of your ass. You choke on a groan, undulating your hips in a desperate move to calm the ache in your lower belly.

He grunts behind you and palms the back of your head. “Eyes forward, or you aren’t getting fucked. Understand?”

You nod into the mattress, not trusting your own voice.

"Words, princess, didn't we talk about this last time?" His tone is between condescending and tender and it's making your insides turn to fucking goo.

"I understand."

"Good."

You hear the clink of buckles, the rustle of a zipper.

"I'll only keep my eyes forward if all your clothes come off, though."

You know you're pushing it, pushing him, but fuck, you need his skin on yours so you can sear him into your fucking brain.

You squeal at the crack of pain when his palm collides with your ass.

"Mouthy tonight, honey?" There's his hand again, collaring the back of your neck. You throw your hips back at him; he spanks you again. "Fuck, you know what you're doin', don't you? My little cocktease want her pussy stuffed that badly?"

No one's talked to you like this. No one's ever said exactly the sort of profane filth you've longed to hear.

"Yes," you sob out.

"The clothes come off then, you little brat."

When he settles behind you, the hot ridge of his dick slides between your folds and you jerk back into him. The blindfold falls away.

"Goddammit," he growls out, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. "Fuck, you're soaking wet, baby. Can already feel her trying to suck me in, isn't that right?" He palms your lower belly. "You're gonna feel me right fuckin' here. I'm gonna be so deep inside you you'll forget about everything but me, you understand?"

His cockhead tips into your fluttering hole. Fuck, he is big. You peer back between your tits at where he's disappearing into you. The girth and length of him makes your stomach bottom out.

His hand pushes down on your lower back, bowing your ass up.

"Don't run away, let me work my way in, huh? Make my pretty girl feel so fucking full." Another inch of him slots inside you. The stretch of it burns slightly, but the pain recedes when he rubs little circles on your clit. "Fuckkkk, baby, you have any idea how perfect this tight little pussy is? Feels like you're suckin' the life out of me."

The drag of his cock inside you makes your eyes cross. With every thrust, he rubs the head of his dick on your g spot, hand locked in a possessive clutch on your lower belly.

"Put your hand here, feel where I'm fucking you." With one hand on top of yours, he presses down hard. You buck, the sensation almost too much. "No one else is ever gonna have this pussy, you hear me? It's fucking mine, sweet girl, mine to fuck, mine to feast on, mine to fill up with cum—"

The heel of his hand grinds down on your clit and that's all it takes before your orgasm collapses your lungs and shorts out your brain. Everything detonates, star-bursts of pleasure exploding in your core until tears stream down your face.

His rhythm barely falters as he fucks you through it, mouth hot on the back of your neck. "Keep goin', princess, you can cum again, can't ya? One more time, just for me. There's my fuckin' girl, milk every fucking drop out of me, fuck—"

You can only imagine the milky ring of cum and arousal coating his cock as he wrenches another orgasm from your tired body. His dick pulses inside you, a guttural moan reverberating from his throat so deeply you practically feel it in your gut.

He stays inside you for a few more moments, both of you catching your breath. When he slips out, you groan at the loss.

"Be right back, sweet girl. Blindfold goes back on, too."

He laughs when you pout, cloth obscuring your vision once more.

When he comes back, he dips a warm cloth between your thighs, swabbing away the gooey mess. You're so sensitive you hiss out a sharp breath. He presses a glass of water into your hand. You gulp it down with gusto.

"I already blocked off where I came in from," he's saying, and you can't help but roll your eyes even if he can't see the motion. You wonder how he chalks up this whole excursion in his stupid pro hero head.

"Don’t want anyone else getting to me or something?"

He clears his throat. "Or something."

The scrape of your window sounds. "I'd start locking these if I were you."

You know he's gone when the cloth whips away from your face, the flutter of your gauzy white curtains the only proof he was there.

taglist: @cryingintheclubdhmu @abigolemess @rindarudoesshonen @simplyraeblue @ermmclovingit @deputyazor @lizzobeth @quinn0-0 @hotlosergirl17 @mother-hellsing

Leather and Lace

BikerBakugou x Ballet instructor

Part 4

(All photos from Pinterest)

You’d been grumbling to yourself as you balanced the bowl of water in your hand, swinging the door open with your other, in a rage you couldn’t quit place. As the wooden door flies open and you lean forward to place the bowl onto the porch Izukus cat had apparently claimed as home- a hand reaches out to grab the stupid Gatorade you’d tucked securely under your arm. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Bakugou, the black jeans and black sneakers you were eye level with were proof enough.

“Don’t you have illegal money you can spend on your own beverages?” You hadn’t quite settled from the shaking from your almost run in with the law, so seeing Bakugou with a smug look on his face made your anger worse. “Stop coming here, I don’t want t-.”

“I didn’t come here for the drink, just needed you to open the door.” You hadn’t even returned to your full height, but Bakugou was strolling past you and into your home that you hadn’t invited him into. “We need to talk.”

“Get the hell out-.” Your protests are cut short, and completely ignored when Bakugou places his phone to his ear and steps into your living room. “What the hell!?”

“I’m working on it, stop blowing my phone up.” You could see his shoulders tensing as a loud voice yells from his phone. Who ever he was speaking to, was not too happy and Bakugou clearly didn’t want to be speaking to them about it. “I told you it wasn’t her. Pull me from the roster and tell your damn investors to mind their business the only contract I’m signing is one that gets me far the hell away from you.”

Bakugou ends the call and shoves his phone into his front pocket, you didn’t know if you should continue trying to kick him out or question what the hell he’d been talking about. As the air stills around you and headlights pass through the living room Bakugou finally turns back to face you. The uncomfortable and tense moment he’d just experienced seeming to have passed before you’ve registered what was happening.

“You decorate this place yourself?” He asks, eyes roaming your colorfully decorated living room painfully. While his face twists in disgust seeing your choice in decor, you clear your throat to catch his attention. “Never mind, I can tell you did.”

“Why did you just let yourself into my home?” You weren’t expecting company and seeing the pile of dishes in your sink suddenly made you feel self conscious. “And can you leave now?”

The Gatorade he’d lied about wanting is set on your coffee table, being forgotten as Bakugou plops down onto your vibrantly yellow sofa. For someone who accused you of stalking him- he sure was making himself at home. You’d asked him to leave and instead he sat himself in your spot.

“Who else did you blab to?” A frustrated sigh escaped his parted lips, making you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. He came all the way here to ask that? That’s literally why they invented cellphones. “And what did they have to say?”

“You couldn’t have texted me? You have no issue texting me for a damn sports drink.” You’d already been in a weirdly angry mood before he showed up so his stupid reason for showing up was just the icing on the cake. “You need to leave.”

“I feel like it’s in your best interest I stay put.” Awfully arrogant. You scoff and cross your arms, sitting on the opposite side of the couch and glancing in his direction. He looked calm, but the twitch of his index finger resting on his thigh made you question if he was just pretending to be. “Someone mentioned you by name to me, heard about what happened with the cops.”

“Me?” No one had been around when Bakugou pulled up and got you out of there. Did Jiro tell someone else? She wouldn’t have, right? “I only told Jiro. All she told me was she was surprised you helped.”

“You understand that if you’d have stopped following me around this would have never happened, right?” His eyes stay trained on your bread shaped coasters while you fight the urge to scream. “Stop coming around and you should be fine.”

“You’re aware you showed up here, right? Maybe you should stop coming around.” The constant accusation that you’d been following him around was starting to make you boil with anger. “Let’s not forget, you continue to approach me. You continue to text me. I’m not sure what gave you the impression I’m obsessed with you, but I promise you it’s actually quite the opposite.”

Your feet tuck themselves below you, angling you to face the man who stared back at you with an angry expression. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was actually bothered you weren’t obsessed with him. He came here to talk about your name being brought up, so maybe he truly was obsessed.

“Look, whatever is going on will blow over eventually, I can guarantee I won’t be at another one of those races. Against my will or not.” You notice his finger that had been previously twitch now twists a black ring on his middle finger. Was he really this worried? Was it because he knew who your dad was? “Why are you worried anyway? Wouldn’t I be the one in trouble? You didn’t say they mentioned you by name.”

“If my suspicions are correct, you’re only being mentioned to attempt to drag me down when you fall.” What? Why would anyone assume he’d be the one helping you if you were in trouble over this? As far as literally everyone( including yourself) knew, you hardly even knew him. “You work at the dance place right?”

He had to have heard about it from Izuku, but you were still surprised he knew anything about you at all. Like previously mentioned, you hardly knew him and figured he hardly knew you either. Still, knowing he knew where you worked made you wonder if that day in the rain he’d only gone past you because he knew you’d be there. He seemed to have splashed you on purpose any way.

“Why does it matter?” You question instead. Figuring bringing up the rain incident would only piss both of you off more. “Looking for a job? I don’t think teaching little kids ballet would really suit y-.”

“I know someone who goes by there, I’ll have him keep an eye on you.” A hand runs through his hair, another sigh leaving his lips as he stands to his feet. “Stop letting raccoon eyes drag you out so much. It’s obvious you don’t enjoy it anyway.”

“Hold on- keep an eye on me?” You all but laugh, you weren’t a child who needed baby sat. Plus, if your name was brought up what could his friend do against the literal police? “Unless your buddies a cop I don’t see how he could be of much help.”

“Firstly, he’s not my buddy. He just owes me a few favors.” Looking up at him, you can’t help but feel a weird sense of relief. At least he seemed to want to keep you out of trouble. Even if it was trouble you never wanted to be a part of to begin with. “Secondly, he is a cop. Unfortunately for you though, I could care less if you got arrested.”

“Huh? Then why are you worried that someone knows my name?” He says nothing, watching you stand to your feet to follow him to the door. He came over to talk, yet he wasn’t giving you much information at all. “You’re sending me a baby sitter, that implies you care if I get arrested.”

His hand reaches for the doorknob, not commenting on what you’d said and ignoring you clear thirst for information. With little time to react and a thousand questions running through your mind, you reach forward and slide the lock before his fingertips can even come in contact with the metal. If he was going to show up, let himself in and then send someone to keep tabs on you- he could at least tell you why.

“I forgot, daddy probably never taught you to mind your business.”

His jab seemed to be spiteful, as if your relationship with your father had affected him somehow and throwing it in your face made him feel better about what ever it was that bothered him about it. Your eyebrows come together in confusion, not noticing him reaching around you to unlock the door and pull it open in one swift motion. The door comes in contact with your back, pushing you forward just enough to collide with his chest.

“Learn to stay out of things you know nothing about.” The embarrassment trailing up your neck reaches your face the moment he looks down at you. “It’s not the police I’m worried about, your dad would bail you out regardless of your lack of communication.”

“Then who are you worried about?” You couldn’t think of a reason he’d show up here if not for the police nearly catching you. You step back, tucking your hair behind your ears as you press further. “The police are the only people who’d be looking for me right? To try and link me to the racing or whatever, so-.”

“I don’t have time to explain this shit to you, so just carry on and stay the hell away so I can handle it without you showing up every time I leave my house.” Your eyes roll, watching as he steps onto the porch where, of course, Izukus cat laid happily. “Just take the damn cat in, he hates Dekus place. It’s not like you have company to worry about him anyway.”

You can’t help but feel annoyed as he reminds you that you don’t have company. He was probably just assuming, but hearing him acknowledge it was both embarrassing and infuriating. Your hand resting on the door begins to close it shut, not caring to properly tell this man goodbye.

“I guess your daddy never taught you to mind your business.”

———

-Parchy

———

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Just so blatantly evil when they took the headphone port out of the phones to force people into getting Bluetooth earbuds like we let them do that to us and no one was jailed or murdered for it? What is wrong with us

Part 4 of my EraserMight fake marriage AU! It’s almost time to face the mighty music. Midnight is not amused but hilarity will certainly ensue.

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random idea: the paparazzi take photos of Bakugou while he is naked in the courtyard of his mansion. The photos are viral all around the world, trends everywhere (imagine PopCrave tweeting about that, lol). The it tophic with the most viral tweet exceeds 600,000 likes since obviously what caught the most attention was the immense, almost inhuman Bakugou's cock size: almost 8 inches without even being hard. The only question everyone is asking is how the hell it will be while being hard.

But Bakugou is surprisingly chill about this, proud even. He logs into his Twitter account for the first time ever, which was created and managed by his public relations team (I don't know how it's called) and simply tweets:

"My wife owns that." The bastard even has it pinned on his profile. It doesn't take long for it to be his most liked tweet and with the time reach one million likes. Other weeks of trends about him...But also about his girl. She's lucky asf.

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ SHAMELESS KATSUKI ENJOYERRR!! happy chinese new year to anyone who celebrates it btw 💜💜

you storm into the living room, phone clutched in your hand, cheeks burning as you glare at your husband lounging on the couch, scrolling through his own phone like he didn’t just set the internet on fire over his soft, 8 inch dick.

“you—” you point at him accusingly, eyes wild. “you absolute fucking bastard.”

katsuki glances up from his phone, his expression is the definition of being so fucking smug. “what is it, sweetheart?”

“oh, i don't know, katsuki. maybe its the fact that the entire world just saw your dick, and instead of just, oh, i don’t know, taking legal action or being embarrassed, you tweeted—” you glance at your phone to quote him exactly, voice going pitches higher with each word. “‘my wife owns that.’ and pinned it.”

his lips twitch, but he keeps it cool. “and?"

you gape at him. “and?! katsuki, the world has seen you naked! and instead of being mad or contacting your pr team about this, you’re out here, tweeting this shit, like you’re proud of it!”

his smirk only widens. “tch, ‘cause i am proud.” he leans back, stretching, muscles flexing like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “not my fault the whole world can’t handle what you get every night.”

your brain short-circuits. “oh my god.”

you knew he was shameless, but this? this is a whole new level. and what makes it worse are the comments. thousands of people speculating, thirsting, straight-up praying to be in your place.

you whimper dramatically. “the comments, katsuki. the comments.”

he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “what about ‘em?”

“people keep saying i must be the luckiest woman alive,” you mutter, glancing at other tweets with an ungodly number of likes, like ”his wife must be the happiest woman on earth” or "the girl must’ve saved a nation in her past life", followed by an entire thread of inappropriate lewd theories (some were true).

katsuki snickers. “well, they ain’t wrong.”

you slap his arm, face on fire. “stop! have you really no shame?"

“none,” he grins before finally putting his phone down, sitting up, his arms resting on his knees. “why? you mad, sugar?”

“no! i mean—well, i should be! do you have any idea what people are saying about me?"

“yeah, they’re saying you’re lucky as fuck. and they’re right.”

you groan, rubbing your temples in frustration. “they’re also saying things like ‘she must be getting split in half every night’ or ‘"his wife must be in heaven every night'."

he throws his head back in a full laugh. “good. let ‘em know.”

you smack his arm. “katsuki!”

he chuckles and reaches for you, catching your wrist and tugging you down onto his lap with such ridiculous ease. “why’re you gettin’ so worked up, huh? it’s the truth.” his voice drops lower as he leans in. “and they don’t even know half of it.”

you groan, burying your face again in his chest. “i hate you.”

“nah,” he murmurs, nipping at your neck. “you know you love me, sugar.”

and damn it, you do. but you’ll never admit it right now—not when he's kissing you down your neck, pressing what the internet has been buzzing about against your damp panties. especially not when he’s being the most shameless, loving husband on the planet.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧