Might As Well Call This Man A Trampoline With The Way I Would Be Bouncing On It

pairing: suna x f!reader

warnings: angst, toxic!suna, suggestive themes(?), destruction of property, glass breaking, manipulation

summary: suna knew that he was doing something wrong, but he refused to acknowledge it. therefore, you slowly dropped five major hints for him, hoping that he would notice them and take action to fix your broken relationship.

status: complete

taglist status: closed! fcygh is over!

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢

chapters

part one: the ghost of your laughter

part two: lingering touches

part three: limited interactions

part four: sleeping alone

part five: rin became rintarou; then it became suna

Spades

Dabi x reader Part Two of Russian Roulette 6.6k words Noncon, Stalking, Kidnapping, praise kink, fear kink, possessive Dabi

Dabi can't seem to forget about you, and he doesn't understand why. The very thought of you angers and confuses him, though soon his irritation with you morphs into something more dangerous. You have no idea how much further your life is about to become entangled with his own.

Dabi doesn’t know why he comes back after the last time, or why he continues to watch you. In his mind, he already got what he wanted. Your fear, your submission, was laid out so deliciously in front of him for the taking. 

He should have felt satisfied. He did at first, he supposes. And yet, he finds himself coming back, continuing to watch you. The thoughts of you still dominate his thoughts, consuming him, and distracting him from his goals. 

Soon enough he climbs in through your window yet again, while you're at work. You didn’t go to the police or the heroes after he broke in last time, probably out of fear he muses, but you were at least smart enough to place new locks throughout the place. That of course didn’t work, the lock on the window melting easily under the heat of Dabi’s hand. Whether or not you notice this, he doesn’t care. What would you even do to stop him?

He snoops around through your home as much as he pleases, again not caring in the slightest if you notice anything out of place. He’s curious as to what he can find out about you, though to what end he doesn’t quite understand. 

Eventually, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, the wooden frame creaking under him, the only sound resonating in the room. He looks around at the four walls of your bedroom, taking mental notes of your decorating choices, and your sparse furniture.

He still doesn’t know what to make of you, to his growing frustration.

Leaning back against the soft covers and pillows, he sighs, almost agitatedly. He brings a hand up to the pillow near his head, thumbing the soft, silky flange edge of it. Bringing the pillow to his face, he inhales deeply, taking in your scent. The smell brings back the memory of how soft your skin felt against his, the delightful and fearful noises you made underneath him. His cock twitches in his pants at the mental image, getting hard as he reminisces.  

He debates doing something about the growing tightness in his pants before simply saying, ”Fuck it.” As he deftly undoes his pants and palms his erection. The thought of how you would react to him touching himself in your bed, to the depravity of the act he’s committing while you’re not home, is what really gets him going. 

The thought of you possibly walking in, seeing the villain in your room, and the fear that would be in your eyes, has him groaning as a thick bead of precum runs down the head of his cock. He thumbs the bead, running his hand over the slit as he hisses in pleasure, his mind racing. 

He continues to thrust up into his hand fervently at the thought of you, how warm you felt around him, how addicting your fear and submission were. He thinks about taking you again, what he’d do next time. The ideas run through his head as he gets closer and closer to the edge. 

Dabi thinks of your soft body and your pupils blown wide with a mix of fear and pleasure, as he closes his eyes and pretends it's you he’s thrusting up into right now, imagining how you would clench around his cock. The sounds of your moans replay over and over in his mind. He imagines you begging for him, begging for him to fuck you, for him to not fuck you. 

Within minutes, he’s spilling all over his hand as he reaches his climax. 

He tucks himself messily back inside his pants, still not feeling satisfied. If anything, he’s feeling even more frustrated, even more angry. He can’t afford to have distractions like this, and he doesn’t like having some insignificant person consume his mind like this. He’s already gotten what he wanted from you, so why is he here? 

Shigaraki and the rest of the League have started to take notice of the fact that his mind has been elsewhere as of late, and they’ve noticed his increasing absences as well, though they couldn’t have any ideas as to why. If only they knew.

He realizes he’s still gripping your pillow with one hand as he grits his teeth in frustration. He heats his hand, scorching and burning the fabric edge of the pillow, the smell of burnt cotton wafting through the air. Let you see this, see the evidence of his presence in your home. He hopes you notice, hoping it ignites more fear in you. It’s what you deserve for the increasingly suffocating hold you have over his mind.

Standing up lazily, he redoes his belt. He should be getting back soon, additionally, you’ll be home soon. As much as he would love to take his frustrations out on you right now, he needs to come up with some sort of plan. Something to quell his burning thoughts. Ideas swim around in his head as thinks of what to do next. 

Someone has been in your home. You know Dabi has been watching you still, and the melted lock and scorched pillow make it apparent that he’s been inside as well. Your stomach turns and you shudder as you examine the burnt fabric. He was on your bed if the ruffled and messy duvet cover was any indication. 

Fear rolls over you, making your vision blur and your body tremble as you stand there at the edge of your bed, holding the pillow. You don’t know why you didn’t go to the authorities after he broke in that first time, maybe from fear of retribution or maybe a naively placed hope he would leave you be. You now realize that optimism was false, as your breathing starts to quicken. 

You don’t understand what he wants with you, why does he continue to haunt every corner of your life? He’s in every shadow caught out of the corner of your eye, in every slightly out-of-place object around your home, every unknown number that calls. All innocuous things before, now fill you with anxiety and doubt. 

What does he plan to do to you, it’s obvious he hasn’t forgotten about you, nor is he seemingly keen on leaving you alone. 

You don’t think he’s going to kill you, considering how he didn’t when he had the chance. But then again, maybe he’s toying with you, drawing out as much fear as he can before finishing you off. You don’t know what to expect and it makes your head spin. 

Supposing you can’t do anything to stop him, you drop the pillow back to the bed, sighing tiredly. You could go to the police, you think to yourself. Maybe that’s what you should do, what any sane person would do in this situation. Maybe the heroes could help. You stop that train of thought quickly though, no he would know if you did something like that, and it would surely only serve to further piss him off.

You have no other option than to continue living your life as if you don’t have a villain shadowing your every move. It's a terrifying and oppressive weight on your shoulders. 

Still, yet, you can’t help how your pulse quickens and your thighs press together when you remember that night he woke you. The memory of how he fucked you well and good into your sofa can’t seem to leave your mind. On more than one occasion since then, you’ve found yourself waking up in a sweat, wetness forming between your legs from the dreams replaying the event. When you wake like this you can’t help but wonder if he’s watching you at that moment, if he’s somewhere in your home. You’re often tempted to reach down between your legs and relieve the tension but the idea of his piercing eyes on you stops you from doing so.

It frustrates you to no end, how he invades your mind, his ominous presence constantly weighing on you, even when he couldn’t possibly be watching you. 

In the weeks following, you’ve done your own research into Dabi, reading every news article and watching every news story about the infamous villain. You know he’s possibly tied to a string of murders throughout the area, crime scenes reduced to ash, bodies so badly burnt that dental records are needed to identify the victims. You find yourself reduced to nausea at these stories. 

Your own immunity to fire doesn’t give you any feelings of ease or safety, if anything it makes you feel as if you have a prominent target on your back now. After all, that’s why he first sought you out right? Because you didn’t burn to death when you first encountered him. You shudder remembering the fury he showed as his face twisted into a snarl at that moment when he couldn’t reduce you to cinders like he so obviously wanted to. His anger felt all-consuming, you’ve never seen anything like it before then. You don’t think simply standing up to him at that moment was the crux of his anger, no, while it did certainly anger him, he was pissed because of your quirk. Your very existence was an act of defiance to him. At least that was your latest hypothesis for why he continues to stalk you. 

You don’t even bother to change the smelted lock on the window, if he wants in he’ll just break it again, and then you’ll have evidence of another intrusion, and you don’t think your psyche can handle it. 

Instead, you continue to go about your life as if you’re ignorant to his presence. You keep your head low and act as if nothing is wrong, not doing anything to draw more attention to yourself, and hopefully, nothing to worsen the situation. You continue to catch small signs of his presence, you know he hasn’t left you alone or forgotten about you. 

He hasn’t gone out of his way to approach you again, though, and after a few weeks, you start to wonder if you’re being paranoid. Maybe he has finally left you alone and everything that you think is evidence of his presence is your own fear and anxiety messing with your head. 

No, you remind yourself, he was definitely in your home, that melted lock and burnt pillow were more than enough evidence of that. 

You find yourself going back and forth on this, whether or not he’s really still watching you or whether you're going crazy. Part of you hopes it’s just your anxiety and fear, but another part of you doesn’t like the idea of all this just being in your head. Until one day, you have the undeniable proof he’s still present. 

You’re at work when he makes contact again. You work at some small grocery store in a less favorable part of town. The story is small and kind of shabby, and the produce is overpriced for how subpar quality it is. Not to mention, you think you’ve seen mice in the back before, not that the manager seems to care. You don’t particularly like this job but it pays the bills at the very least.

A new order comes in that day, and you soon find yourself behind the store, hauling crates from the truck with one of the few other employees scheduled that day. He’s a new hire, only having started here a few weeks ago. He’s been nice enough, if not...too nice at times. His overt friendly attitude has veered toward flirtatiousness recently, and you don’t know how to feel about it. Maybe if you didn’t have so much on your mind as of late, you would enjoy the positive attention. 

He’s hardworking at least, and he doesn’t cross the line into making you feel uncomfortable. You do think that regardless, he’d make a good friend. 

You attempt to pick up a particularly heavy crate of produce, straining to lift it. 

“Hey, lemme get that, I got it.” Your coworker says, taking the load from you. His hands linger on yours as he grabs it. “Don’t strain yourself.” He says with a wink.

You can’t help but huff a laugh as you thank him. He carries the crate into the back portion of the store, leaving you alone in the alleyway. You go to grab the next box that needs to be taken inside, hoping this one will be easier to carry. Before you can though, your phone vibrates in your pocket. 

Pulling it out to see what it is, your face pales and you almost drop your phone entirely when you see the message across your screen.

[Unknown number]

I don’t like the way he looks at you. Don’t let him touch you again.

There’s no doubt in your mind at all who this is from. Is he watching you right now? Your eyes dart around the area looking for any heavily scarred arsonists who could be looking at you. These alleys seem empty, with not a soul in sight. He must be watching you though, what else could he be referring to? Your heart thumps in your chest so hard you can feel it in your ears. 

Before you can spiral into a panic, your coworker comes back out, ready to grab some more loads. He seems to notice your frightened expression soon enough. 

“Hey is everything alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.” His eyes seemed filled with genuine concern.

You stammer, looking for the right words, you know you can't explain your situation, so instead you’ll have to come up with some excuse. He places a firm hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture, as he asks again if you’re okay.

Aware of the fact that Dabi must be watching right now, his message still replaying in your mind, you remove his hand with your own and attempt to play it off. 

“Oh yeah I’m fine, a rat ran out over my feet as I lifted a box, gave me a real scare.” You say with a humorless chuckle. You don’t know how convincing it may seem but it's all you can come up with right now. 

Luckily, he seems to buy it. “Oh ew, yeah they seem to be frequent flyers whenever we get new orders, huh? The owner doesn’t care about the quality of the places he’s ordering from.” 

He picks up the box in front of you and speaks again, “I can get these last few boxes if you wanna go inside, it’s a slow day and you could use the break.” 

Still shaken up, you agree. As you head inside, your phone buzzes yet again. You check it again with a trembling hand, already knowing who it probably is. 

[Unknown number]

I’ll kill him if he puts his hand on you like that again. I don’t share what’s mine, doll.

If there was any doubt before as to who was texting you, it’s gone now. This is Dabi, without question. The idea that he knows where you work, that he somehow got your number, makes you shiver in fear. He really hadn’t left you alone at all. Your breath quickens as it feels like you can’t get enough oxygen, your throat constricting. 

Your heart beats heavily in your chest, what does he want with you? It was bad enough before, but now he seems to have some notion that he has a claim on you. That no one else could touch you, or make a move on you. This instills both a sense of fear and anger in you. 

In a sudden moment of audacious boldness, you pull up the keyboard on your phone and type back a short message. 

I’m not yours. You don’t own me.

You immediately regret it the moment after you hit ‘send’. You can’t take it back now, and you might only piss him off with your words. You shouldn’t even be engaging with him, he’s one of the most wanted terrorists in Japan, for god's sake. 

Within seconds, your phone vibrates again as he responds to you.

Oh really? We’ll see about that

Dread twists in your gut and your hairs stand on end as you read his reply. What does he mean by that? What is he planning? He’s obviously going to do something if his text is any indication. You regret replying to him at all, you fear you’ve only made things worse by doing so. If there’s one thing you’ve realized about Dabi, it’s that he doesn’t like resistance or anything challenging him.

You choose not to reply again, instead putting away your phone, and distracting your racing mind with work. You feel helpless to do anything to change your current predicament, all you can do is try not to focus on it, otherwise, you might start panicking. You silently pray that everything will turn out okay.

Dabi has been watching you still yet, even at times watching you at work when he could. His obsessive thoughts about you haven’t gone anywhere, you still consume his mind entirely. He doesn’t know why and he doesn’t quite know what he wants to do with you yet. You still frustrate him ceaselessly. He started to think maybe he hated you, for how you’re ever present in his thoughts, but then he saw how your irritating coworker looked at you, how he seemed to take every opportunity he could to touch you. He felt an entirely new form of anger rising in him. 

Whether he continues to toy with you, whether he fucks you again, or whether he decides to kill you, you're his and his alone. He doesn’t know when he started to mentally think of you as ‘his’ but he has and he’ll be damned if someone else will touch what’s rightfully his. The urge to kill the coworker is overwhelmingly strong at the present moment. 

He takes out his current burner phone and sends you a cryptic message as he watches you from the shadows of the twisting alleyways. You’ll probably be wondering how he got your number, once you realize who sent the message. It was all too easy to sneak go through your phone while you slept just a few feet away, as he committed all your most personal information to memory. Your peacefully sleeping face looked so cute and innocent to his presence. 

Judging by the spooked look on your face, you immediately know it was him who sent the text. You look around the alley, searching for any sign of your stalker. You won’t spot him of course, Dabi has had years to learn how to blend into the shadows, the hidden nooks and crannies of winding alleys and dilapidated buildings. 

That annoying pest of a man comes out again, even puts his hand on your shoulder, and Dabi sees red. It takes everything in him to not burn him alive right then. He knows that he needs to act patiently. It won’t do him well to rush things, and he thinks killing someone in front of you might give you the final push to run straight to the authorities, and that would only complicate things further with you. He can kill that annoying man later he supposes. 

He is pleased with how quickly you remove his hand from your shoulder, though. Good, he likes when you do what you’re told. You’re a lot more endearing when you listen without contesting him. 

He sends you another text after he sees you walking inside, wishing he could watch your face as you read it. He still finds your fear absolutely delightful. He’s spent many nights at this point rutting into his hand as he closes his eyes and imagines your frightful expressions. He’s surprised though when his phone chimes as you reply to him, not expecting you to reply at all. 

I’m not yours. You don’t own me.

A scowl forms on his face as a displeased expression forms. He furrows his eyebrows as he considers your words. Of course you’re his, even if you don’t want to be. You were his from the moment you failed to die by his quirk, even if he didn’t think of you as his at the time. Your text irritates him yet again, you have the nerve to preoccupy his thoughts constantly and then to try and deny him. Oh no, that simply won’t do. He’ll show you who you belong to, and he’ll make it really clear so there won’t be any more mistakes or misunderstandings about the matter.  

His hands shake in aggravation as he sends you another response, before pocketing his phone. He lits a cigarette as he walks away, hoping to calm his irate mood. Plans are already starting to come together in his head. 

The rest of your day passes in a haze, as you try to distract yourself from the overwhelming anxiety and fear that’s plaguing your mind. Work is monotonous enough to serve to keep your thoughts preoccupied. You don’t want to focus on any of the things going on in your life right now. You feel as if you’ll break down if you let your fear take hold at this moment.

After work, once you get home, you find something to do around the house, completing every and any chore you can think of, anything to keep you busy. This keeps you distracted well into the evening. 

 Sleep overcomes you easily that night, you’re exhausted and desperate to turn your brain off. 

Your sleep is dreamless and uneventful until you slowly start to come to the sensation of something hot and wet moving between your legs. Consciousness comes to you slowly as you lift your heavy eyelids, and you start to realize you’re not dreaming as you feel hair brushing up against your inner thighs. Your blurry eyes try to focus in the darkened room as you make out the figure in front of you. The first thing you see is a head full of soft black hair as you feel another long wet drag against your cunt. 

You let out a sharp gasp as your hips jolt. Strong hands go to grip you, holding you in place, as Dabi lifts his head to meet your gaze, his eyes piercing straight through you from where he sits between your legs. 

“So you’re awake now? Took you long enough, baby.” He speaks in that same rough voice you remember and he then flattens his tongue against you, taking another long, firm drag. You bite back a noise as you begin to squirm. His hands grip you tighter, keeping you firmly on his face. You can see now that he took your shorts off while you slept, your underwear hooked around one ankle now. He appears to have also taken his own jacket off. 

“W-why?” You’re not sure what question you’re even asking, but in your still hazy state, it's all you seem to be able to manage. 

He lifts his head again, his eyes filled with lust at the moment, and something devious as well. 

“You said weren’t mine, that you don’t belong to me. I’m here to prove you wrong.” He nips at the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he speaks, pulling another noise past your lips. You try to push away from him, but he quickly pins your hips down as he gives you a dangerous look. 

“I won’t hesitate to chain you to this bed if you don’t behave. Do you want that?” He asks darkly, and you fervently shake your head. “Good, I thought so.” 

He moves his mouth back down, working his tongue over your clit as you slowly lose your mind. You can’t help the noises you make as your legs start to tremble in his grasp. He seems to know exactly how to move his tongue against you, the wet squelching of his mouth against you as he eats you out, and your quiet moans are the only noises in the room. 

The pleasure starts to grow, and as you feel the heat building up in your gut, you can’t but grind your hips against him. Your fingers twitch as you look for something to grasp onto and you can’t seem to stop yourself before gripping his hair. Luckily he doesn’t seem to mind, groaning low against your clit as you pull on his hair. His dark hair is surprisingly soft in your hands and every time you yank it, he lets out another low noise. 

Sparks of white start to flash behind your eyelids, as you near your climax. You’re fully grinding against him now, riding his face in earnest as your noises become more desperate. You’re so close and he seems to know it. 

He continues his ministrations for a moment longer, bringing you to the very edge, but before you can come, he pulls away abruptly. 

You feel as if you could cry, your frustrations are obvious, and your cunt aches from the sudden lack of attention. 

“Please, please, I was so close!” You find yourself begging despite your own sense of pride. Your voice is shaky as you whine. You don’t want this, not really, but his mouth felt so good against you. You feel conflicted and torn.

Dabi presses his lips to your inner leg again. “Mhm, as much as I love the sound of you begging like that, I don’t think I’m gonna let you come yet.” He pulls back, smirking at how your lip trembles and the desperation in your eyes.

“That was just to warm you up some, I want you to do something for me first, baby.” 

You look up at him apprehensively as you sniffle. ”...What?” You’re nervous as to what he wants or what he plans to do. If he simply wanted to fuck you, he would. After the thing with the gun last time, you can only imagine what else he would do. 

He grips your waist, pulling you up into a sitting position wordlessly as he sits back on his haunches. Even sitting up, you still have to look up to meet his eyes, his presence still intimidating and frightening as ever. He seems to have a constant dark aura about him.

He looks at you for a moment, leaning back more as he speaks.

“Take off my belt.” It’s a simple yet commanding sentence, his voice husky and low, his tone very obviously leaving no room for debate. It’s not a request, it’s an order.

Not wanting to see what he’ll do if you refuse, you reach for his belt with shaking hands, undoing it quickly as he watches you from above with that intense gaze of his. 

Soon enough, you’re sliding the belt off of him, letting it drop to the bed. Before you can look to him to see what wants you to do now, he speaks.

“Undo my pants next.” You meet his eyes, which are now heavily lidded with desire. You think you know where this is going if your intuition is correct. As you unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down, you can see that he’s straining against his boxers, a spot already forming from precum. 

One of his strong hands goes to grip your hair, as the other reaches to pull his cock free. He’s large and girthy, and the same piercings you remember from last time gleam in the low lighting. 

He pulls you down close to his crotch, forcing you to arch your back for him. A thumb comes to pull at your bottom lip, going to swipe across the tip of your tongue. 

"You ready to open that pretty mouth for me, baby?" He speaks in a low almost murmur as he hooks a finger in your mouth. “I said before that you were a natural cockwhore, I wanna test that out now.” 

His hand pulls you closer to him, the hand on your jaw letting go to hold his cock, the hand in your hair staying firmly put. He brings the tip of it up to your lips. You want to refuse on principle but he’s obviously not going to take no for an answer. He smears precum across your lips, before firmly tapping your cheek.

 “And don’t even think about biting, I’ll snap your pretty little neck so fast.” He looks at you with an intensity that has your breath nearly catching in your throat, and his eyes bore down into yours. You frown slightly, you weren’t that stupid to piss off the murderer situated above you. 

“I wasn’t going to,” You speak in a quiet but firm voice, your own boldness surprising you as you continue, “I was actually thinking what kind of freak gets his dick pierced.” 

Dabi barks out a sudden and rough laugh at your words. “Yeah I’m a sick freak, but you already knew that about me, doll.” The hand in your hair tightens considerably as he presses the head of his cock to your lips again, his voice dropping into something dangerous. “Now suck.” 

You decide against making any other smart remarks, instead opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out experimentally, giving the tip a small lick. 

“Just like that, baby.” He says in a throaty voice as he pushes the head of his cock past your lips, forcing you to open wider. His precum is salty on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around him tight. Your hands go to the tops of his thighs to steady yourself, as you take another inch of his length into your mouth. Both his hands tangle into your hair as he uses his hold on you to thrust into you slowly, letting you get accustomed to his size. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” He groans above you, and his praise has your stomach fluttering. You start to work your tongue on the underside of his shaft, the metal piercings giving it such an unusual feeling, and you begin to suck in earnest as he throws his head back. “Oh, you’re so fucking good, so good for me.” 

He starts to thrust into your mouth more roughly, the tip of his cock poking the back of your throat as you try not to gag. 

“Shhh, shhh, just breath, relax your throat.” One of his hands goes to massage the side of your jaw as he coaxes you into taking more, forcing his full length down your throat. You can’t breathe, but before you can truly panic he pulls back momentarily, giving you a second to inhale through your nose.

Then, he thrusts back in pulling your face flush with his groin, your nose burying in his curly pubes, which you now notice are white, unlike the dark hair on his head. He holds you there for a few moments before the lack of oxygen starts to make your vision blur. 

He continues to fuck your throat like this, forcing you to relax and take it as he moans lowly. You can tell he’s starting to get close as he picks up the pace, fucking your face faster and letting out a litany of swears jumbled with more praise. 

The hands on your face start to heat up against your skin and you can see as small sparks of blue flames start to dance up his wrists, the smell of smoke increasing. The small flames start to encompass your head as he holds you tightly, but they do nothing but roll across your skin harmlessly. 

You hollow your cheeks as best you can, swallowing around his cock as he exclaims, “Fuck, fuck I’m coming!” As he pushes his cock into your throat as far as it’ll go, forcing you to swallow every bit. He holds you in place for several moments as you take every salty pump, as your eyes start to water. 

After he’s spent, he pulls out with a pop, drool is now running down your chin, your throat sore and battered. 

He tilts your chin up, meeting your tear-filled eyes. His expression is still filled with desire, his eyes looking hazy from his orgasm. “Oh, you did so good baby, look at you, swallowed every single drop.” His thumb runs across your bottom lip and you see his cock twitch in interest again. Of course he wouldn’t be done with you yet. 

Dabi pulls you up from where had you bent down, pulling you closer to him. You begin to struggle against him yet again, and he’s quick to pull your hair, hard. 

“I told ya I would chain you to this bed if you didn’t behave, do I need to pull out the cuffs?” You’re not surprised he brought handcuffs, not in the least bit, but you don’t want him using them on you, so you quickly quit struggling at the threat. 

Dabi would like very much actually to use the cuffs, but he likes when you’re being obedient for him. He’ll have plenty of time to use them later anyways. Just the mental image of you tied up under him is enough to start getting him hard again. 

“Let's take this shirt off, baby.” He says in that gravelly voice as he pulls the fabric up over your head, leaving you exposed. Your hands immediately go to cover your chest but he quickly grips your wrists, using his hold on you to press you down into the mattress. He leans into your prone body, his teeth nipping at the skin right below your ear. 

“Besides, you didn’t get to come earlier, it’s your turn now.” One of his hands goes to grip your hips, the other going to his cock as he presses it against your clit, rubbing it up and down your slick folds, the metallic piercings along the shaft rubbing against you pleasurably. 

He continues this motion until you start letting out small moans, even as you try to hide your noises. After a minute of this, he guides the engorged head of his cock to your hole, nearly pressing in. He lavishes your neck with bites, sucking bruises into the skin, as he slowly presses forward into you. You clench around him and he groans.

“Relax, baby, relax. ‘S not gonna hurt, I’ll make you feel good.” He thrusts forward another inch, and as he slowly begins to fuck the small passage your body has granted him, you whimper out. 

He slowly begins to fuck you open, with each forward movement of his hips he pushes in another inch, until he has almost his entire cock moving in and out at a languid pace. Already having come earlier, he seems content to take his time with you, humping into you lazily. He keeps his body pressed close to yours and the hand that isn’t gripping your hip comes to wrap around your head, keeping you tightly pressed to him. 

You let out gasping moans as those piercings rub against your innermost wall. “Dabi..”

“Fuck, keep saying my name just like that.” His cock thumps against your womb now as he moves his hips more deeply. “You’re mine, doll, you’re all mine. You belong to me.” He says it like a chant, a prayer. Words continue to fall from his lips like flames as he grinds his hips into you.

“N-no, no.” You don’t like this claim of ownership over you, you don’t want him to see you as someone to possess, but you struggle to get the words out between your breathless moans and whimpers. He chuckles quietly at your protests, as he presses his mouth to your jawline, panting into your ear as he speaks again.

“No? You really don’t understand, huh?” His hips are slapping against yours now, the bed creaking under you two with every movement. You’re pressed chest to chest as he looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with something terrifying and wild. Whatever obsession he had with initially, it’s warped into something dangerous. “You were made to be mine, feel how perfectly my cock fits inside you?” He punctuations his sentence with a rough thrust, causing you to let out a high-pitched keening noise. “Even your quirk is another sign you were made for me. You belong to me.” 

The strong arms around you heat up as he fucks you into the mattress, the headboard knocking against the wall. He pushes in closer to you, pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. His teeth clank against yours and he bites your lips, nearly hard enough to draw blood. It’s a rough and possessive kiss, and he doesn’t let up until your head starts to spin, seeming to want to steal the very air from your lungs. He’ll take everything you have and more, because he truly believes you made give him everything, even your own self.

 He makes a circular motion with his hips, the tip of his cock rolling over your cervix. “Only I can fuck you like this, only I can make you feel this good. You know you like this.” 

A particular thrust has you crying out as you shake under him, and he makes it his mission to hit that exact same spot with every movement. “You feel so good when you clench on my cock like that. Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.” 

Electricity races up your spine with every roll of his hips, and you can’t help but cling to him. He reaches down between the two of you and begins to rub at the spot that’ll push you over the edge. “Come on my cock, baby, come for me.” He all but growls in your ear. Within moments you found yourself orgasming hard, as he continues to fuck you through it. He curses as you clench around him and with several battering thrusts, he pushes in as deep as he can, pumping you full of his cum. “Fucking take it, take my cum. That’s it, baby.” His cock twitches inside you as he releases, collapsing on top of you. 

He continues to lie on top of you for a few moments, his arms holding you tight as his softening cock slips out. After a minute he pulls himself up, looking down at your sweaty and exhausted body, your tired expression. “Wait here.” He says simply, getting up and redoing his pants. He exits your bedroom, feet padding on down the hall as he disappears. 

He returns a few minutes later, with a warm rag, and a glass of water. He cleans you up wordlessly before making you sit up despite how sore your body is, and hands you the glass, along with some pills.

You eye the capsules suspiciously, as you turn to him and frown. “What’s this?”  

He rolls his eyes at your apprehensiveness. ”It’s not poison, it’s so ya don’t get pregnant. I’ve snooped enough to know you’re not on any birth control.” 

Still frowning, you hesitate. He didn’t seem to care last time whether or not he got you knocked up. He seems to sense your wariness and grows impatient. 

 “Just take the damn pills already, if I wanted to kill you I could do a lot better than some fake medicine.” You suppose that’s true. Not wanting to anger him, you swallow the pills, downing the water afterward. He watches you closely as you do so, making sure you actually swallow them. 

“Good, now get some rest.” You feel yourself getting a lot sleepier than you initially felt, your eyes growing heavy. Within minutes you’re out. 

Dabi redresses you nimbly, making sure you’re truly knocked out before lifting you up into his arms. What a sweet thing, you were still so naive and trusting. He starts to carry you towards the door. You were his and you weren’t ever getting away from him. 

A/N: Sooo part three mayhaps? Thanks for reading!

p-perhaps they’re at a ball in Hero’s honor. In civie identities? Hero and Villain meet, Hero notices something about Villain seems familiar, but they write it off thinking Villain is perhaps a coworker or someone they’ve saved before. The two of them have a lot in common, they begin to hit it off. Hero is about to ask Villain if they want to go out for a drink some time when they notice something EXTREMELY telling of who Villain is. Hero begins acting very guarded around Villain, and Villain seems hurt, as they don’t know why Hero could be acting like that.

Guess who’s backkkk

Guarded

“Why won’t you talk to me.”

If the hero had still been completely clueless they would’ve noticed and cared for the other’s use of tone.

Stern but in a concerned manner, something Hero shrugged off, unaffected by the villain’s manipulation. Or at least, what they thought was.

“Why do you care?” Hero asked, monotone voice as they tried to stay calm. Pretending their nemesis wasn’t standing a mere few feet from them was harder than it looked.

The villain huffed, keeping their voice low as they spoke, not wanting to alert any of the other guests that surrounded them. “Because a minute ago we were on cloud nine and now you’re completely ignoring me.”

Hero didn’t respond, afraid that they just might snap at the villain or maybe burst into tears the second they opened their mouth.

Villains shoulders dropped, suddenly not so menacing anymore. “Or at least, I thought we were on cloud nine.”

Another pause, because Hero didn’t have it in them to make the situation any worse.

They fidgeted as discreetly as they could with the hem of their coat, but Villain was a vigilant bastard and the action surely didn’t go unnoticed. They took a deep breath to calm themselves before they downed the rest of their fancy drink.

Nothing worth savouring when your mouth tasted like acid.

The alcohol didn’t do anything to fix that.

“Look, if you don’t feel the same way then that’s okay, I just…”

Hero finally turned to face the one they had fought so many times over. Recognizing every tell about them now as they wondered how they could’ve been so clueless before.

The scar on their cheek, from a nick Hero had gotten through their mask with a blade. Their familiar, piercing green eyes, just not as dark as before. The consistency in which they cleared their throat and tapped their cheek when in deep thought.

It was all so obvious.

So obvious it hurt. It hurt that their heart still couldn’t let go and it hurt that their head didn’t even want to make the choice to leave.

“I just thought we had something…”

You made me feel like we had something.

Was left unspoken.

Words not Villain nor Hero wanted to speak, even if it was the cold hearted truth.

In reality, Hero felt the same way. Villain made them feel special, even if only for a few hours of the night, but they truly felt connected. Bonded—if they dared.

But it wouldn’t work, it couldn’t work. Not with their history, not with their past. No matter how good it felt now, one of them would have to deceive the other in the end.

Forbidden love. Hero couldn’t stand it.

“We can’t be together. It wasn’t meant to be.”

For the first time in Hero’s life they saw disappointment flash across the villain’s face. Then with a small smile and a heavy breath, Villain took the first steps away.

┕ ᴏʟᴅ ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋꜱ

Arranged marriages are still a thing. Unfortunately, with the overflow of new heroes, you had to be the best of the best to shine, but with personal problems in the way things got harder, so your family sold you in order to keep living the luxurious life they always had. Now you’re married to the number 4 hero, and meeting an old flame might ignite something explosive.

⇢ chapter one

⇢ chapter two

⇢ chapter three

⇢ chapter four

⇢ chapter five

⇢ chapter six

⇢ chapter seven

⇢ chapter eight

more coming soon...

devil's glare || katsuki b.

pairing: demon!bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 8.7k+

mentions: modern au where there are supernatural beings hiding amongst the population, no pronouns mentioned i think!, tho there might be implied fem reader idk, pining & lots of it, fluff, kinda spicy/suggestive near the end, innuendos galore, human reader, salt circles keep out demons if u didnt know tht

a/n: idk why but i felt like boo boo the fool while making the banner LMAO this wasn't supposed to be this long but i couldn't help myself. special thank u to @/reddriot, @/cellotonins, & my homies in the jjgc for helping me w ideas and giving encouragement!! ly<3 hope u guys enjoy!!

✧˖° bakugou katsuki is a powerful demon that you have the pleasure of dating. but when he pisses you off one day, you decide to get back at him in a pretty petty way: drawing a salt circle around you to force him to apologize.

"Hey! Whatcha up to?"

You glanced up, your eyes landing on the familiar slim figure of Mina as she stood a few meters away from you. You gave her a wave, your body nestled comfortably in the green beanbag chair you had in your cozy little living room.

"Hey!" you greeted her as you sat up slightly and adjusted your laptop on your thighs. "How'd you get in here? I thought I'd locked the door?"

"Spare key, remember?" She grinned sharply at you, holding up a pink hand that had a tiny silver key pinched between her thumb and index fingers. Of course. You rolled your eyes, flapping a hand at her so she could tell you why she was breaking into your house on a Saturday evening. "Soooo.... I thought we could hang, but I see you’re a bit preoccupied."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow at her from behind your laptop screen.

"Gee, let me guess." She hummed as she tapped her chin before looking pointedly down at the wooden floor. You followed her gaze. "Maybe the fucking salt circle you have around you?"

You sighed. "Yeah, I’m kinda pissed at Katsuki. I don't want him coming anywhere near me, is all. For now."

She pouted at you, her arms crossing themselves over her chest. "But the salt circle also keeps me out, you know."

You cocked your head to the side and squinted at her—her and her pink skin and pretty dark sclera. "I thought you were a shapeshifter?"

"Yeah, but I'm also part succubus," she said as she puffed her cheeks out like she was a toddler and not a fucking supernatural being, pointing to the yellow horns that stuck out from her pink hair. You only shrugged at her.

"Sorry Mina, but I'm not getting rid of the salt circle," you told her apologetically. You were very comfortable and safe inside of it, thank you very much. You wouldn't jeopardize that, even for her.

"How long have you been like this anyways?" she asked, leaning her body against the opening to the living room that led down to the front door. "And are you... okay?"

Your expression softened at her concern. "I'm fine, honestly! Just a bit peeved at him, but he's a brat, y'know? Maybe the salt circle will teach him a lesson." You glanced at the analog clock that hung up on the wall to your right, just above the T.V. "I've been here a few hours now." That was a lie. You've been like this for the entire day, waiting for when Katsuki would eventually make his way back home. You were patient, if not stubborn.

"Riiight," she rolled her golden coins for eyes at you, "and where's Katsuki?"

You shrugged. "Beats me. The last time I saw him was this morning."

"So he doesn't know you did," she waved her hand at the floor, "this?"

"Nope! We had a bit of a…” you paused, searching for the right word, “...disagreement, and then he went off to do… whatever he does."

"Actually I saw him like, an hour ago with Eiji," she told you, standing up straight to rock back and forth on her heels. A dimple formed on her cheek as she curled her lips to the side. "He might be on his way back here, I dunno."

"Oh," you blinked at her, then ran a hand through your hair, "he might be, yeah. He usually comes back home around this time."

"Yup, yup!" She gave you a thumbs up only for her expression to suddenly twist into a sad pout. "So I’m guessing no hangout night?" She made a sadder face that drew a small laugh from you.

You gave her an apologetic look and sank back into your beanbag, propping your feet up on the small coffee table you had positioned in front of the couch. You’d made the circle large enough that it contained a decent amount of space in addition to the table and couch. "Aw, I’m sorry. Maybe some other day?"

"Boo, fine!" She let out a dramatic sigh, raising the back of her hand to her pink forehead. “When will I ever have you to myself instead of stinky Katsuki, my love?” You rolled your eyes in good nature, giggling at her antics. She shot you a grin, her skin shifting into a light brown shade as she gave you a little salute. She turned on her heels to skip her way out of the front door, lest she get caught up in the raging hellfire that was Bakugou Katsuki. "Call me if you need anything! Laterz!"

"Bye!" you called out wryly, a bit amused at her coming to see you for what was literally five minutes. You felt a bit bad, but well, you had other things to deal with.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you felt that signature ripple through the air that made the hairs on your arms raise—the one that always told you he was near. The temperature in the room got slightly warmer and you sighed, returning your focus to your laptop. You could see, from the corner of your eye, the way the shadows of your home seemed to be drawn towards the corner of the living room that was the darkest, right outside of the salt circle. You huffed. He was so dramatic.

You ignored him as he stepped out from the darkness, all tanned muscle and sharp, sharp claws. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, to your annoyance, his sculpted torso with all its rough scars on full display. Leathery, burgundy wings unfurled from his back, stretching outwards before curling neatly above him. Burning crimson eyes scanned his surroundings, his mouth opening in a fanged snarl as they eventually latched onto your form.

"The fuck is this?" Katsuki hissed as he stalked up to the circle and glared down at it as though it had personally offended him, his mother, and his father all at once.

"What?" you asked innocently, your gaze trained on your laptop instead of him. He let out another snarl at your lack of attention. "The salt circle?"

"No, the fuckin' T.V.—yes the fuckin' salt circle!"

"It's to keep you away from me," you informed him cheerfully, removing your feet from the table so you could stretch them out on the floor. You looked up at him when he made an angry noise. He started prowling around the circle, likely looking for any gaps in its circumference. He wasn't going to find any—you were very efficient when making it. Though, he certainly looked quite scary, stalking around you like that. Thank god you made the circle kind of big—he couldn't reach you at all, even if he wanted to try.

"You're pissed," he grumbled. He came to a stop somewhere near the T.V., his long, ruby red tail flicking back and forth behind him.

"No shit." You frowned at him, setting your laptop on the table so you could cross your arms at him from atop your throne of a beanbag.

He growled at you, an intimidating thing that came from the deepest part of his chest. You only tightened your position, glaring at him as he glared back with enough heat to rival the sun.

"'M not fuckin' messing around," he snarled, making himself appear bigger as he opened his wings a bit more. The black horns on his head cast shadows across his face in a way that made his eyes glow brighter. Like gleaming red giants in the night sky. "Get rid of the fucking circle."

"I'm not either," you huffed back, adamant on your position. "You need to stop putting my shit on the shelves I can’t reach!!! It’s annoying!!"

"You’re overreactin’," Katsuki said gruffly, hands curling and uncurling at his sides. Smoke puffed from his palms, little clouds of grey that dissipated in the air. “S’not my problem you’re tiny.”

"Am I?" you replied in irritation. "Speaking of that—making fun of how small I am in comparison to you is annoying as hell too!!"

He huffed and bared his canines at you. "Jus’ get outta the damn circle." He wasn’t acknowledging what you were saying!! The nerve he had.

"No." You frowned at him. He shot you a grumpy pout and started prowling around again, steps so heavy you could nearly feel them echoing through the floor.

You eyed him warily, leaning back slightly. "Are you going to stop teasing me? And apologize?" The way he scoffed and directed his glare off to the side told you what his response would be. You harrumphed and turned back to your laptop, pulling it back onto your lap. "Then I'm staying in here, whether you like it or not."

He growled some more. "Babe." You ignored him, tapping away at your keyboard. "Babe. You're bein' fucking dumb."

"Insulting me isn't gonna get you anywhere, Katsuki," you remarked dryly. He glowered at you.

"This is fuckin' stupid," he sniped at you. When you didn't say anything he swore loudly and shot his hands forward, aiming them at the salt circle. His knees bent slightly as he took on a fighting stance. "I'll jus’ blast this shit away! No way it's stronger than me—"

You snapped your head up, seeing the way his palms glowed a hot orange. Oh, he was being serious. You shouted at him, "Bakugou Katsuki if you blast a fucking hole in my floor I'll draw a salt circle around the whole house!!"

"I'll fix it." He grinned sharply, wildly, hands igniting in a blazing tangerine color that was a bright white at the center of his palms. You had just enough time to throw your hands over your head before a small explosion erupted throughout the living room. Your ears rang in the aftermath, your breaths bated.

You made a surprised sound, peeking your head from your arms to see the smoke that had swirled around you. Only, it was blocked by something, not able to enter into your space. You stood up and placed your hands on your hips as the smoke parted to reveal a scowling Katsuki. And a still intact salt circle.

You raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "That just made me even more unlikely to come out, you know that right?"

Katsuki only snarled, hands still popping with tiny explosions. The scent of burnt caramel permeated through the air. "Whatever. Y'can't stay in there forever."

"Watch me," you retorted, the glint of a challenge shining in your eyes.

---

Katsuki wouldn’t leave you alone.

He was always lurking at the very edge of the salt circle, glaring at you so intensely you would’ve been dead ten times over if he had any power to kill with his eyes alone. You knew he was doing something trippy with his powers, forcing the shadows to cling to him to make himself look even scarier. He stayed in his more demonic-looking form, too—both you and him knew he could look normal if he wanted. If he was trying to intimidate you into submission, it wasn't working.

You bid your time, doing your best to ignore him and his dark presence at the corner of your vision. You watched a show on your laptop and snacked away at the takeout you were smart enough to order while he’d been out of the house.

Maybe you were being petty, maybe you were being mean, but well, he deserved to get knocked down a few pegs. The way he sometimes looked down at you—raising his stupidly perfect eyebrows—just got on your nerves. And when he purposely put your cooking supplies on the top shelves so you’d be forced to ask him for help… He knew what he was doing! He never allowed you to climb on top of the cupboards or on a chair either, always swooping in at the right time to snatch you by the waist and set you on the ground like you were a child and not a fully-grown adult. It was annoying! And also kind of… demeaning? Intentional or not.

You knew Katsuki. You knew his pride would prevent him from properly apologizing to you, especially since you were acting so pettily by not allowing him anywhere near you. He was stubborn, if not petulant, and this was what led him to sit outside your circle, pouting heavily at you with puffed cheeks. You were playing a game to see who would last longer, with the consequence being touch-starvation. And by god, you were determined to win.

A few hours passed like this, with him not moving from his seated position to your left. He had an arm propped on one of his knees that was bent up close to his chest. The way he hid his lower face behind it made the depth of his stare infinitely more piercing. He was clearly trying to burn the side of your head off, with how intense he was being. Luckily for you, you were basically immune, having known him for so long. You glanced over at him, the distance between the two of you, then sat up on your beanbag chair. It was getting pretty late and you were slightly sore from sitting in the same spot for so long.

You placed your laptop neatly on the table and stood up, stretching your arms and back out. It drew a deep sigh from you, and you rubbed at your hip before you turned to walk the five steps it took to get to Katsuki. You stopped just before the salt line and looked down at him. Then you waited, an expectant look on your face.

He glowered and shifted his long legs around so he could slowly stand up. Your head followed the motion, watching as he rolled his thick shoulders and stood at his full, towering height. His shadow drowned you, his burgundy wings extending out so it could curl above you in a threatening manner. You looked at him, ignoring the way he purposely flexed his pecs and cracked his neck. That wasn’t going to work on you.

So there you stood, pretty little you, dressed in fuzzy socks, sweats, and a shirt with a little bunny on it, staring up at this bristling, scowling demon as though he didn’t look like he was about to murder you with all the strength in his arms.

Katsuki snarled and his large hand shot out as though to grab you now that you were literal inches away from him. But something stopped him, something that made a vein pop out on his forehead. The muscles in his arm strained, but he couldn’t reach you. Couldn’t touch you. And you simply smirked.

“Giving up yet?” you asked him slyly, crossing your arms.

“Fuck you, human,” he bit back harshly as he drew back his hand. His voice was deep and raspy, nearly sending a shiver scuttling down your spine. His tail flicked irritably behind him. “Ya gotta get outta there eventually. Don’t y’have human needs you need to take care of before sleepin’?”

“What, like brushing my teeth and stuff?” You rolled your eyes and took a step back from him. He growled at you once you did, eyes unwavering as he continued to glare at you. “I can skip a night, if I have to, demon.”

His chin wrinkled as he pouted. “S’not proper hygiene.”

“Yeah, but I’m not leaving the circle,” you replied cheerfully as you walked over to your laptop to shut it down. You took a drink of water from one of the bottles you had on the table, swished it around your mouth a bit, then sat down on the couch so you could lay yourself along it to sleep on for the night.

You made yourself comfy on your side, bunching one of the couch pillows under your head and arms. Like this, you were facing Katsuki as he stood at the same spot you’d left him. He slouched forward, tucking his clawed hands into the pockets of the black sweats you’d bought him a while ago.

“You know, all you have to do is apologize,” you reminded him. You curled your legs up closer to your chest. “Isn’t that hard.”

Katuski looked like he was chewing on his tongue for a moment, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkled a bit. You waited to see what he would do, but something shifted in his expression and he only huffed loudly. He turned on his heel and stormed away in the direction of your bedroom, his feet stomping away at the floor.

You only rolled your eyes at his attitude, nestling further into the couch.

---

Something smelled good.

You woke up to it, your eyes still closed as you inhaled deeply. It was familiar and you found yourself peeking an eye open slightly in curiosity. You hadn’t taken off the lights in the living room last night—the light switch was outside of the circle—so you had to blink a few times to allow your retinas to adjust. You sat up slowly, rolling your neck and shoulders to get rid of the stiffness that came with sleeping on a couch for nine hours. You squinted then raised your eyes to look at Katsuki, who was standing beyond the salt circle with a plate in his hands and your tiny apron wrapped around his equally tiny waist.

“Morning,” you told him sleepily, one of your hands combing through your hair in an attempt to fix it.

“Made breakfast,” was his short reply, nodding his head at the plate in his hand. He lowered it slightly so you could see it was your favorite. You raised an eyebrow.

“Did you now,” you hummed as you leaned forward to grab your phone from the table to check the time. It was almost nine in the morning. You yawned and stretched your arms up in the air. You didn’t know if it was a demon thing or a Katsuki thing, but he was ridiculously good at cooking and he knew it. You were strong, however. It would take more than a home cooked breakfast to get you to crack. “You resorting to bribery?”

He scoffed loudly. “If it’ll get you to leave the fuckin’ circle.”

You smiled at him but didn’t get up from the couch, only slouching into the cushions further. You switched your attention to your phone, back to ignoring Katsuki for the time being. You had to bite your lower lip when he growled and sat down on the floor, still holding the comically small plate in his huge hands.

You knew you would be able to last much longer than him. But you had a bit of a problem—something you could only solve if you got a bit of outside help. You navigated to the messages app on your phone and opened up the chat you had with Mina.

hey, can i ask you for a favor, you texted her. You only had to wait a few minutes before the little typing bubble on her end popped up.

sure thing bestie. what’s up? kacchan bothering u? >:((

can you and eiji distract him for an hour or smth? i hv to pee like… rly badly LOL. This wasn’t something you’d thought out very well, apparently.

LMAOOOOO YEA SURE KSDHFKSJ go piss girl!!!

my bladder and i thank you and him very much <33

You let out a breath of air and rested your head back on the cushion. While it wasn’t an immediate problem for you, you knew it would be eventually. If Mina and Eijirou could get Katsuki out of the house for a bit it could allow you to freshen up in the bathroom, maybe take a speedy shower. You scrolled idly on your phone for a bit, physically forcing yourself to not look up when you heard his phone let out a ding. And then another. And another. Damn, what was Mina doing?

You heard him grumble under his breath for a few minutes. Then, he stood up and paced to the kitchen. You pretended to read something as he came back into the living room while pulling on a black shirt with a skull on it. His wings and horns were gone, and when you peeked at his eyes they were no longer glowing that bright crimson color they always were when he was around you or his friends.

“Be back,” he mumbled, not looking up at you as you waved a hand at him as a farewell. He stomped his way over to the front door and pulled it open, then disappeared into the outside world. The temperature in the house dropped slightly with his departure. You waited a few minutes after the door closed, holding your breath and straining your ears to see if you could still hear him. Then, you exhaled and jumped up. You jogged over to the salt circle and hopped across it, making a beeline for the bathroom.

It didn’t take you long to brush your teeth and take a quick shower. You had to keep in mind that you had limited time to really do anything. You shuffled around in your bedroom, your towel wrapped around your body as you picked through your clothes. Should you go for something casual again or something… cuter? Maybe dressing up a bit would make him more likely to fold. You hummed as you pulled out a nice shirt and skirt, then shifted in your sock drawer to pull out a pair of thigh highs. Oh yeah. You usually saved those bad boys for dates—Katsuki absolutely loved how you looked in them, you knew that. Not that he would admit that to your face.

You snickered as you pulled on your outfit and sprayed some perfume he also liked. Maybe a bit of lip gloss while you were at it. A cute hairstyle. Was this going overboard? Oh well!

Once you were done, you exited the room and headed for the kitchen. Your expression softened as you saw the dishes drying on the little rack you had for them. You pulled open the fridge and took out the plate of food he had neatly saran-wrapped. The mere act of him cooking this for you had something tugging at your heart. Even if it was to lure you out of the circle, you still appreciated it.

You spent a bit eating what he’d made, keeping an eye on the time all the while. You should still have about twenty minutes before he would return—assuming Mina was going by the exact hour like you’d told her. You polished off the plate and washed it before you tucked it on the dish rack. After heading to your room to fix up your face again, you steadily made your way back over to the living room.

But just as you approached the opening that led to it, you heard the front door open—felt the temperature increase once more.

You froze, snapping your head to the entrance to see Katsuki standing there, fifteen minutes earlier than you’d expected. His crimson eyes immediately locked onto your form, his hand still gripping onto the doorknob of the open door. You blinked at him, the way he tensed his shoulders under his shirt. You could see the way his burning eyes moved from your clothed feet, lingered around the exposed parts of your thighs above your socks, hovered around your torso and shoulders, stared at your shiny lips, before they eventually landed on your eyes. A beat passed. Then another.

You lunged for the salt circle, arms extended out before you as you ducked into a roll over the line of salt. A yelp left your lips as you felt the graze of his claws on your back. He snarled something as you landed on the floor on your ass, your heart racing a hundred miles an hour at the close call you just had. You brought a hand up to your chest and let out a deep breath of air before you twisted yourself around on the ground to look at him.

“You little fuckin’ minx,” Katsuki snarled, his body tensed at the edge of the salt circle as he bared his fangs at you. There was a ripping sound, his wings erupting from his back through his shirt as his horns sprouted on his head. His eyes sparked to life again, both of his hands pressed against that invisible shield you had to protect you. His tail whipped in a frenzy behind him. “Fuckin’ cheater.”

“Welcome home, handsome,” you greeted him with a mischievous grin, heaving yourself to your feet so you could brush your clothes off and properly face him.

“Y’got Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair to distract me on purpose,” he hissed out as a response, his eyes narrowing at you.

You shrugged at him and turned around to plop down on your beanbag again. “I dunno, did I?” Then, as an afterthought, you added, “Breakfast was great, by the way.”

He only growled at you some more—an angry thing that made goosebumps break out on your skin. You wisely elected to ignore him, snatching your phone from the couch to peek at your notifications. There was one from Mina, sent to you about ten minutes ago:

he figured us out!!! he’s on his way rn bestie run!!

If only you’d actually taken your phone with you. Then you wouldn’t have had to parkour your way into the circle.

Small explosions erupted from Katsuki’s palms, sparks flying into the air above them. His voice was low, dangerous, when he spoke. “Get. Out.”

“Apologize,” you said in turn, giving him a pointed look. When all he did was scowl at you, you shrugged and set your phone to the side so you could grab your laptop. “Then no.”

Katsuki kept a closer eye on you after that.

In retaliation to your change in clothes, you found that he’d stripped down to his briefs to reveal this thick fucking thighs and calves. You wouldn’t have realized if he hadn’t thrown his fucking shirt at you, nailing you right in the face in a way that made you jump. Then, once he realized he could throw things at you, he did the same thing with his sweats, hitting you in the face once more as you spluttered and looked over at him.

He only gave you a pointed stare as he crossed his arms under his pecs and leaned against one of the living room walls with his wings folded behind him. He was goddamn attractive—he knew that, you knew that, he knew that you knew that... You were determined to not let that affect you, however, rolling your eyes at his actions. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before; he couldn’t crack you like that.

You didn’t know how he wasn’t bored just standing there, watching you. At least you were able to keep yourself busy by doing work on your laptop or watching a show. But him? All he did was stare at you. It made you a bit self-conscious, but you couldn’t really do anything about it, could you?

At one point in the afternoon, he pushed himself off the wall and disappeared elsewhere in the house. You only spared him a glance, part of you wondering what he was up to this time. You got your answer when you heard a faucet turn on from the bathroom. Was he going to shower? You returned your focus to your laptop only to look up again when you heard him walk back into the living room ten minutes later. You immediately looked back at your laptop, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your staring.

“Ran a bath with those dumb salts you like,” Katsuki grumbled, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. Somehow that was worse than him parading around in his briefs.

“Yeah?” you responded in what you hoped was an aloof manner. Enticing you with a bath was not going to work either—even with the implication that he would join you for once. “Have fun.”

He lingered a bit, as though to see if you would cave. But when you didn’t and merely hit play again on the episode you were on, he scowled and stomped away. You had to suppress a smile as you listened to him curse to himself in the bathroom. Maybe after all of this you’ll treat him to something for all the suffering you were causing. Maybe.

You almost didn’t notice when he wandered back into the living room after his bath, one of his hands rubbing at his damp hair with a towel while the other typed away at his phone. He’d finally pulled back on some sweats, though his chest glistened with droplets of water that ran down the inclines of his chest and abdomen. You snorted a little to yourself, then paused when the doorbell suddenly rang.

You looked at the front door, then at Katsuki. “Are you expecting anyone?” When he shook his head no, you glanced at your phone to check if you had any notifications. You didn’t. You looked back at him to see he had reverted back to his more human-looking form. “Can you go check?”

He only raised an eyebrow at you, pocketing his phone. “No. You check.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Katsuki. Go check the door.”

“No.”

You sighed—you knew what he was doing here. Before you could open your mouth to argue with him, however, the door opened on its own. Both your heads snapped towards it to see who’d entered. It was Mina again, to your confusion, gripping that little silver key in her fingers as she paraded in with a few other people. You recognized the familiar red hair of Eijirou, along with the bright yellow of Denki and deep black of Hanta. They waved at you cheerfully as they walked over.

“What… are you guys doing here?” you asked in surprise, setting your laptop to the side so you could stand up and walk to the edge of the salt circle. They were all normal-looking, though as soon as the front door clicked shut, their appearances shifted to their more natural ones.

“A certain pink shifter let slip what you were doing with Kacchan over here,” Denki said slyly, his black tail lazily waving behind him. He took one long look at the salt circle, then over at the constipated expression on Katsuki’s face, before he broke out in rambunctious laughter. One of Katsuki’s eyes twitched, his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

“We thought you could use a bit of company!” Mina snickered, one of her fingers innocently twirling a strand of her pink hair. “Maybe some encouragement!”

“I almost didn’t believe it,” Hanta choked out through his cackles, kneeling against the ground as he banged his fist against it. He raised himself up to wipe a tear from his eye, a wide shit-eating grin on his face. “Holy shit, Kacchan you really did this to yourself, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki grunted and his arms moved to cross themselves over his bare chest, the towel thrown over one of his shoulders. He glared at his friends, but they only ignored him, laughing harder at his expression.

“Man, all you gotta do is apologize!” Eijirou told him through his own sharp grin, the wolf ears on his head twitching slightly as his friends cackled around him. “It’s not that hard!”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” you huffed, a smile on your face. Katsuki only gave you the stink eye. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“We—” Denki coughed into his fist, his cheeks red from cry-laughing. “We d-didn’t just come here to laugh, you know.”

“Yeah,” Hanta added in, picking his lanky figure up from the ground to give you a fanged smile. “We came bearing gifts.”

You raised an eyebrow at them. “Gifts?”

It was then that you realized Eijirou was holding a small, paper bag. Hanta and Denki both reached into it when Eijirou held out to them. You looked at them curiously, then let out a pfft when they each pulled out a carton of salt and a small water gun, respectively. Katsuki let out a snarl when he saw the carton of salt in Hanta’s hand.

“Hell yeah!” You grinned widely as Hanta did a dramatic wave with his free hand and brandished the salt at you.

“Hell no!” Katsuki rasped, swiping a clawed hand at Hanta who let out a yelp and leaped over the line of salt on the ground to join you in your circle. “Soy Sauce Face, I swear to All Might I'll shove garlic so far down your throat you’ll be shittin’ cloves for weeks. Get back here.”

“Man, how are you gonna do that from aaaallll the way over there?” Hanta grinned as he walked closer to you to throw an arm around your shoulders. You let out a laugh when he tugged you close to his side. “Sorry Kacchan but this is my lover now.”

Katsuki let out an animalistic sound, his hands pressing against the force that prevented him from crossing the salt circle. You only gave him a smile and watched as Hanta walked over to another part of the salt circle. He popped open the little nozzle on the carton and promptly turned it upside down. The salt spilled from it like a white, crystalline waterfall to add on to what was already on the floor. This was going to be a bitch to clean up.

“You know,” Mina giggled as she watched Hanta walk around the inside of the circle’s circumference, “I don’t think that's how that works.”

“It’s not but I appreciate the attempt,” you added amusedly, stepping away to give Hanta more room to thicken the circle.

“Stop that, right the fuck now,” Katsuki hissed as he attempted to grab Hanta as he walked by. He failed, of course. You almost felt bad for him.

“Or what?” Hanta snickered. “Gonna cry?”

“Piss your pants?” Mina cackled, then let out a small scream when Katsuki directed his glare at her. She stepped behind Denki, who was twirling the water gun in his hand, a wide smirk stretching across his face.

“Maybe shit and cu— WAHADHDFJG!” Denki yelped as Katsuki lunged towards him, snarling furiously. He pointed the water gun at Katsuki and pulled on the trigger to squirt whatever was inside it at the ash-blond. You snapped your head towards them when Katsuki let out a pained hiss and backed away from Denki as he clutched at his face.

“What’s in that?!” Your eyes widened, stepping closer to the edge of the circle so you could peer at Katsuki. He growled lowly as he looked up, the skin on his cheek an irritated pink. His wings extended out, crimson eyes practically glowing as he glared at Denki, who only raised his hands up in surrender.

“What the fuck, Discount Pikachu?!” Katsuki almost roared out, his hair bristling and his hands flexing angrily. “Is that fuckin’ holy water?!”

“It’s diluted!!!” Denki screamed as Katsuki pounced at him again, somehow managing to evade the irate demon. He ran around the circle to try to avoid Katsuki chasing after him with a dangerous growl. “It won’t hurt that much!!” You frowned at his words.

“How the hell did you even get that?!” you asked, your lips pulling to the side in a grimace.

“He asked Shouto for help blessing it,” Eijirou told you and you let out an ohh. Shouto was part angel, so that made sense.

“I told him not to bring it!!” Mina called out, her and Eijirou retreating closer to the front door in case they needed to make a mad dash out of it.

“Bro didn’t listen,” Eijirou said with a shrug, “Whatever Katsuki does is deserved.”

“Rude!!” Denki yelped again when Katsuki got a bit too close to him and sprayed the demon again across the chest this time. You hadn’t noticed before, but his skin made a slight sizzling sound when the holy water came in contact with it. Katsuki hissed but continued his stomping around the circle to try to grab Denki. Yeah, you didn’t think diluted holy water was going to stop him anytime soon.

“But aren’t you an incubus, Denki?” you asked confusedly, spinning in a little circle to watch said incubus run around. “Won’t the water hurt you too?”

“I got gloves on, it's fine!!”

“Done!” Hanta suddenly announced. You turned to look at him as he tossed the salt carton to the side and brushed his palms off. He gave you a wink and a bow. “Your circle has been reinforced!”

“Thanks,” you said dryly, then spun back around once Denki let out a small shriek. You hid a small smile behind your hand as Katsuki towered over Denki with a sadistic-looking grin on his face. You prayed for the incubus when you saw Katsuki had somehow managed to snatch up the water gun. He pointed it at Denki’s face, right between his golden eyes that crossed to look at it.

“Fucker,” Katsuki snarled through gritted teeth. He then leaned down closer to Denki’s face. “Run.”

“Aaaand that’s our cue to leave!” Hanta said cheerfully as Denki yelped and ducked away from Katsuki spraying the water gun at him. The incubus cursed and made a mad dash for the front door.

“Abort!! Abort!!” he yelled, waving his hands to get Mina to open the door for him. “Crazy demon on the loose!!”

“Get the fuck back here!!!”

“Bye!!” Mina called out to you as she opened the door to let Denki through, followed by a raging Katsuki who’d shifted to his normal form the moment before he left the house. “Keep us updated on this whole situation!”

“Stay strong!” Eijirou encouraged you, flexing one of his arms to emphasize his point. The wolf ears on his head disappeared, his teeth changing to look less sharp and more normal. “Don’t let him bully you into conceding!!”

“Good luck, soldier!” Hanta added, giving you a wave as he slouched his way to the front door as well, the fangs in his mouth shortening. You chuckled and gave them a farewell, watching as they disappeared onto the streets and headed in the direction of Denki’s faint screaming.

For a moment, a very quiet moment, you were alone. A faint smile lingered on your face as you looked around, sighing at the thick circle of salt around you and the discarded carton at the side. You walked over to pick it up and set it on your little coffee table, then wondered if you’d have enough time to use the bathroom. You might as well. So you jogged over to the bathroom to freshen up at lightning speed. If you inhaled too deeply, you could smell the aftermath of Katsuki’s bath—the caramel scent that hovered in the air. You shook your head and washed your hands, then headed back to the living room to plop down on your beanbag and wait for Katsuki’s eventual return once he got tired of beating up his friend.

Lo and behold, not even ten minutes later he came stalking back through the front door, grumbling under his breath about this and that. You looked over at him, expression softening, once he stormed his way into the living room and crossed his arms.

And the way he pouted at you, lines of irritated pink spanning across his torso and face from the holy water, nearly made you cave at that exact instance.

“I hope you didn’t mess Denki up too much,” you commented lightly, sinking down further into your beanbag.

Katsuki let out a low growl and pulled the water gun from his pocket to toss onto the floor. He stared pointedly at you, a deep huff escaping his lips. “Ya gonna leave or what?” Typical of him to ignore your statements. You nearly rolled your eyes at him.

When all you did was give him an expectant look and a raised eyebrow, he snarled, his fists clenching. The hair on his head bristled and his tail snapped to the side. He was starting to get even more irritated, you could tell. “I swear once ya get outta that damn circle, babe, ’m gonna fuck you up.”

“Oh?” You leaned towards him, tilting your head. You had to bite back a smile. “Is that a threat?”

A scowl spread across his face and you would rather die than admit that your heart rate spiked at his following words. “‘S a goddamn promise.”

---

It was getting harder and harder to ignore Katsuki as the time ticked by.

You’d been doing so well earlier, content with ignoring him and watching your show. But he seemed to have caught on to your shift in mood. You didn’t know how. You just couldn’t stop thinking of what he threatened to do to you—what he promised—and now you were slightly out of it, thanks to him. He knew, he fucking knew, that the way you kept zoning out was because of him. And he used that to his goddamn advantage for the next few hours. You had to plug in your earbuds to try to ignore him.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you in that dangerously low voice. The one that made something stir in the pit of your stomach. Your jaw tensed. He only used that particular nickname when he was up to no good. “Oi. Look at me.” You refused to. “Look at me, right now.” Nope, not going to happen, no matter how hot he sounded.

Something shot you in the face.

You spluttered, wiping a hand across your face at the water that had nailed you right in the forehead. Your eyes darted over to Katsuki, a grumpy frown sliding onto your face when you saw him holding that stupid water gun he’d stolen from Denki. He smirked at you as he leaned against one of the living room walls, sitting down on the ground in a way where one of his legs was bent near his chest and the other was splayed on the floor. He still had those pink lines across his face and chest. You wondered when they would fade away, only to jump when he shot you again with the water gun.

“Katsuki!” you seethed, using your fingers to wipe the water from your cheek. “Stop that! You’ll get my laptop wet!!”

He only smirked wider, crueler, and sprayed you again. You grumbled and rubbed your eyes. Diluted holy water kind of stung. “Look at you,” he snickered, “gettin’ all wet ‘cause of me, hah?”

“Katsuki!” you shouted, appalled at his choice of words. Something twisted in your stomach, heat spreading across your cheeks. “That’s not gonna make me leave!”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head and moved the gun so he could shoot water at your thighs. You glared at him, using a hand to wipe the droplets away. “Ya gotta eventually, babe. And once you do,” his teeth bared at you, sharp, “‘M gonna drag that pretty ass to the bedroom and rip that little skirt—”

“Katsuki!!”

“—right off those pretty legs and stick my fing—”

“No!!” You exclaimed, your face burning up as you snatched an empty water bottle from the table and chucked it at him. He lifted a lazy hand and batted it away, his smirk widening at your scandalized expression. “Bakugou Katsuki if you say another word—”

“You’ll what?” he drawled, leaning his head back against the wall. Crimson eyes pierced through you, reading you like you were an open book. “‘Cause I guarantee I’ll do worse.”

You clamped your mouth shut and fumed at him. You hated the way he could make you flustered with just his words. You let out a hmph and turned away from him, raising the volume up on your laptop so you didn’t have to listen to him anymore.

And it worked, for about an hour or so. You couldn’t hear him, couldn’t really entirely see him as he sat outside the circle. He sprayed you a few more times with the water gun, but you just ignored him some more and he eventually stopped. You were able to calm down and reel in your emotions, getting ensnared in the plot of the episode you were watching. You were aware of Katsuki pacing around outside the circle, and when you finally lowered the volume down once more, you could hear him cursing and growling. He was frustrated, terribly so, but you only sat there and waited.

Then the doorbell rang. Again.

You looked up with raised eyebrows, watching as Katsuki grumbled and slouched his way over to the front door. He wasn’t shifting to his human form, so you assumed it was someone he had called over himself. Sure enough, once he opened the door, you were greeted by the nervous figure of Izuku, to your surprise.

“Deku,” Katsuki grunted, stepping to the side to let said man in. “‘Bout fuckin’ time.” Izuku slid into the house and stammered out a greeting to the demon, before he walked over to the living room to greet you.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” you asked him confusedly, setting your laptop on the table so you could stand up warily. Your eyes glanced from Izuku’s apologetic expression to Katsuki’s grumpy one. Something in your stomach sank slightly. This couldn’t be good for you.

“Well! Kacchan told me about, uh, what you were doing,” he scratched his freckled cheek as he glanced at the ash-blond, “and um, well, he kinda… kinda threatened? Me? To get rid of the circle. So! I uh, had to come over.” Your eyes widened and you glared at Katsuki for a moment—the bastard had the gall to smirk slightly at you—before you looked at Izuku who was shuffling closer to the circle. Part of you wondered how desperate Katsuki had been to have resorted to asking Izuku for help, even if they were on somewhat good terms now.

“Izuku, no, please don’t,” you nearly begged him, tensing your legs when he came to a stop near the circle and knelt down. “This is between Katsuki and I, you don’t need to—”

“Ah, I’m really sorry,” Izuku only grimaced at you, his green eyes darting over to Katsuki again before he looked up at you. “I’m really, really sorry. But I ah, I owe Kacchan a favor and um, I really can’t say no to him, either way. I’m sorry.”

“Izuku,” you tried one more time, then pouted when he touched two fingers to the salt circle. You took a couple steps back, your body tensing as Izuku’s fingertips glowed a light turquoise. The color spread to the entire circumference of the circle, and before you knew it, it had disappeared. Vanished, in a flash. Fuck.

Izuku stood up and gave you another apologetic look. You tensed up, eyes locked onto Katsuki who stared back at you dangerously. Warningly. “I’ll um, just head out. Bye! And sorry, again.”

You and Katsuki just continued to stare at each other as Izuku made his way back to the front door. You bent your legs, watching as Katsuki’s wings slowly extended out to make himself larger, his hands sharpening into claws. He bent forward, a wicked smirk on his face. There was nothing separating the two of you now. You swallowed thickly. His tail flicked side to side slowly.

The front door opened, then shut. A beat passed.

You shrieked as Katsuki lunged towards you, ducking down under him as he sailed over you. He snarled something, but you couldn’t hear what exactly it was over the sound of your racing heart. You rolled out of the way as he lunged for you again, his face twisted into a furious scowl.

“Babe, c’mere!” he roared out, swiping a hand at you that you narrowly dodged by leaping to the left. The temperature in the room spiked, the hairs on your arms stood up. And you turned on your heels and made a mad dash for your bedroom, trying to escape the sharp grip of Katsuki.

But well, he was a demon. And you were not.

A hot hand latched onto your arm. You yelped as you were tugged back and around. Katsuki twirled you so that you were facing him and both his hands clamped down on your arms. You were forced to look up at his frowning face as he loomed over you, drowning you in his form, his scent, once more. You let out a huff.

“I’m still mad at you,” you said flatly as you turned your head and stuck your nose up at him. He growled, something you felt through his chest as his hands moved so that he could lower himself down further and wrap his arms around your waist, pressing you against him. He nudged at the side of your head with his own. You continued to ignore him, stubbornly staring out at the side instead of at him.

“Hey,” he nudged you again, “hey, look at me.”

“No,” you replied sternly, turning your head further when he started to nose at your cheek. You were limp in his hold, not reciprocating his affections as he bopped your head with his own and dragged his nose down the side of your face, your neck. You had to suppress a shiver at the feel of his hot breath along your exposed skin. “I said no Katsuki!”

He grumbled and pressed a light kiss at the base of your neck. You leaned away, as much as you could, anyways. He let out a deep sigh. “Okay, ‘m sorry.” You peeked an eye open at him.

“For?”

“For movin’ your shit,” he replied shortly, pressing another kiss to the side of your neck, before he bit down lightly at your skin. You sighed quietly, and once he let go, you turned your head so you could look at him properly, one of your eyebrows raised.

“And?” you pressed on expectantly. Katsuki let out a huff.

“And makin’ fun of your height,” he added on begrudgingly, arms tightening around you. There was a moment where you just watched him, squinting your eyes slightly. He waited for your response, that signature pout soon forming on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” You wiggled your arms out from his hold and reached up to hold his face. He leaned further into your touch, closing his eyes when your thumbs ran over the pink marks still on his cheeks. “Aww, poor baby. You missed me that much, hm?”

“‘M not a baby,” he mumbled out as you raised yourself up so you could press a gentle kiss to his right cheek. Then to his left. You could see the tips of his ears turn pink. “Don’t y’ever do that shit again, got it?”

“Mmhm.” You hummed as you squished his face together between your palms and leaned away so you could look at him. Katsuki opened his eyes to look at you, and the drunk look he had made your heart squeeze in your chest. You raised yourself back up to press a soft kiss to his chapped lips, smiling into them when he held you closer. Tighter. If only the world knew that big bad demon Katsuki fell apart with a single touch from you.

When you pulled apart, you had but a moment’s notice before you felt yourself being picked up. You let out a small yelp, feeling yourself get tossed over one of Katsuki’s thick shoulders. You gripped onto his wings for dear life, feeling them flex under your touch.

“Katsuki, what are you doing?!” you muffled out, your face pressed to his bare back. When he responded, you could practically hear the sharp grin in his voice, one of his hands raising to give you a firm slap on the ass. Your face burned, gut bottoming out in anticipation.

“Made a promise, didn’t I?”

The morning came and there is an impossible amount of smoke and Fog covering gaza. People still can't check on each other even if they were a few meters away. The amount of killed Palestinians has increased above never before. Children dismembered, mothers saying goodbye before burying their children. People who have no idea if their loved ones are alive or dead. Hospitals cannot help, they're out of every energy source and quite frankly, doctors. The bombing hasn't stopped if you were wondering, so people can't just walk on the streets and search for their loved ones. A paramedic broke down after pulling out a little girl from underneath the rubble. Refugee camps have gotten bombed, so the people who survived the first bombing of their house, probably weren't so lucky this time.

And israeli army spokesperson just released a statement falsely claiming that Hamas has a headquarters under a main hospital in gaza. (Al-Shifaa hospital). This is an attempt to justify bombing a hospital, where over 30,000 people are seeking care. This hospital is located 16 meters above sea level, making it impossible to built tunnels under it. Highest area in gaza is 105 meters.

PAID WITH AFFECTION ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, no quirk au, cuddling services and cuddle buddies, todoroki shouto is an overworked EMT, reader is a cuddle buddy, fluff, strangers to ‘is it ethical to have a crush on your cuddle buddy??!!’ god knows

wc: 1.7k

As an EMT, it was natural that Shouto be conscious of all the things around him — more so than most. After all, the job required quick thinking, keen eyes, a clear head and practiced hands. But for reasons he can’t touch upon, having you stand idly in his genkan wearing a pair of house slippers and an easy smile has his mind repeating a tedious loop, recalling every single coffee ring stain, stray sock, crease and crumb in his apartment with microscopic detail.

“Come in,” he says, lowering his head into a modest bow by way of habit. His voice is mercifully steady. You’re warm, so inviting that it disarms him. “I… I apologise for any mess. My friends requested you with the intention of surprising me”.

“They did leave a note at the end of the application to warn me,” the corner of your mouth lifts further, and you’re looking at him as if you’ve known him far longer than five minutes. Those kind eyes soften and wrinkle, “It was sweet of them to do this for you. But I do want to remind you that you can end our session at any point. I won’t mind”.

Shouto hears your voice, though the words roll over him in a gentle wave. His thoughts are muddied with fatigue, drifting elsewhere. You’ve moved closer but kept appropriate distance, head tilted in both curiosity and concern. Dipping to meet his gaze bids you to peer through your eyelashes, unintentionally demure as you call out to him.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with—?”

“I trust them,” he quietly interrupts. A moment of patient silence passes as he collects himself, tongue peeking to wet his bottom lip, to cushion the words before they leave his mouth. “They wouldn’t do this if they thought I’d be uncomfortable”.

“Still,” you pause, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “You have an hour slot with me. Feel free to kick me out at any point”.

Red and white stands fall loose when he nods, resting over the bridge of his nose. Your eyes crinkle, gleaming with far off endearment at his obvious dishevelment. His hair is flat to one side, the impression of his couch cushion pressed pink into his right cheek; pant leg ridden up his calf, the other pooled around his ankles, his once white shirt had stretched in the dryer and now hung below the waist.

There’s the urge to apologise again and explain it away, but he wondered if it would offend you. After all, this was your job — or one of two, according to Midoriya. He’d been far more forthcoming about the whole thing. Shouto wasn’t supposed to find out, but Ochako is not as good at keeping her voice down as she thinks she is.

And Shouto is far nosier than they give him credit for. Slightly obsessive, he admits. If something is out of place, or it doesn’t make sense to him, he will pick at the problem until it bleeds.

Though he wouldn’t call this a problem. Atleast, not yet. The pads of your fingers skim gently over his wrist, squeezing his palm to retain his attention—

This could be the beginning of a big problem.

“This okay?” you apply more pressure and he swallows, overturning his hand so your fingers slide against the shallow of his palm. His heart line is light, curved like a half moon. “Shouto?”

“Sorry,” he tries to conceal a grimace. “I’m not usually like this. It has been a long week”.

“A long month from what I hear,” you add sombrely. Another reassuring squeeze. “But that’s what I’m here to help with”.

Shouto worried his inner lip between his teeth. “I’m not really… sure how these things are supposed to work,” he admits, disliking the uncertainty of it, not knowing how to find his footing.

“Well. How about I go over the fine print?” you hold him properly, knuckles entwined, the heel of your hand tucks against his life line. He can’t quite remember the last time he was shown such… casual affection.

Patients held him all the time — the younger ones, usually. Gripping his forearms, counting his fingers, braiding the colours in his hair. His friends were touchy, but his introverted tendencies often meant boundaries were assumed rather than asked for.

This is different. It feels as if he has missed a step climbing the stairs.

“Erotic or sexual behaviour is not permitted for the client nor the cuddler,” you continue, taking his silence as permission. “No use of tongue or teeth, no touching of genitals or intimate areas. And no nudity”.

“Right,” he rasps. Sex might be less unnerving than this.

“Your body will sometimes react to stimuli on its own. I understand that that alone is not a sign of consent or violation of the rules,” heat thrums under the skin of his cheeks as you level him with a kind look. “Just make sure to talk to me if anything is wrong, okay?”

“That’s a lot of rules for something as simple as cuddling”.

“Guess so. But they’re to keep us both safe,” you step closer. Something swoops in his belly, and his fingers twitch reflexively in your grasp. “We don’t need to jump right into it, either. We can sit and talk, if you like”.

God. The world is awash with colour, all because you’re in it. A sweet stranger. Todoroki Shouto, the loneliest man in the UA emergency unit. What his friends must think of him. He has reached a new low if they’d felt the need to hire someone to hug him.

Midoriya’s gentle voice reached his ears. Apologetic, but without the apology. Sorry that he wasn’t sorry. “I know it’s unorthodox, but you should give it a try, Shou. I mean, cuddles are great for your health!”

To which Ochako had added, “Yeah, Todoroki! Set an example!”

Conceding to his best friends wishes, the pair of you walk over to the couch. The cushions are wide enough for two bodies to lie comfortably. They yield under your shared weight, an embrace in itself. He couldn’t count the many nights spent sleeping here instead of his bed.

Your thighs are pressed together, body heat seeping through the fabric of his sweatpants. You’ve kept your hands locked together where they rest in your lap. Cautiously, he runs his thumb over your knuckles and finds no discomfort, only happiness at his reciprocation.

“Do you do this a lot?” he blurts, followed by a wince. “I mean—”

“I’ve been doing this for half a year,” you tell him amusedly. “Even so, I don't have many clients. I’m a little picky, and most of them only need a session or two if they’re going through something”.

Picky. That tidbit makes him happier than he thinks it should. “I’m glad I passed your vetting process, then,” he says.

“So am I,” you return. Your body shifts to give him your full attention. Eyes, chest, knees turning. A hand smooths over his wrist again, right to the crook of his elbow. “Your friends told me how hard you’ve been working. I’m happy to do this for you”.

Whatever this will be. Is he supposed to lean into you naturally and wrap his own arms around you? Would it be inappropriate to rest his head on your chest? He glances to your lap, a thread of longing woven through his heart as it flutters. It looks comfortable there. The thought pulls on his fatigue until it covers him like a blanket.

Unbeknownst to him, you have followed his line of sight to the spot where your bodies connect. His posture droops, shoulders falling forward. Your smile softens with realisation. “Shall we start off by having you rest in my lap?”

Shouto blinks away the haze, eyes imperceptibly wider. “Is that alright?”

You hum your assent. The sound is low, melodic, a hint of fondness. A beautiful stranger in his home, so at home; something about that relaxes him.

Shouto is anything but graceful when he flops onto your thighs, body draping along the sofa. He mutters a bashful apology that you wave away with a laugh, steadying his head while you recline into the back cushions.

Your thighs are plush, indelibly soft. They’re yours. You smell a little familiar; it prods unhelpfully at an old memory. A faceless silhouette he passed in the street, maybe an old patient. You must use the same scent, he thinks. That reel of film is soon overwritten with images of you, body curled above him as you reach for the throw draped over the back of the couch.

“Sleep, Shouto,” you murmur. “I’ll wake you when the session is over”.

His drawn out sigh of relief feels warm against your abdomen. The tension lessons with every minute that passes, dwindling into contentment as the rigidity seeps from his bones. Sinew becomes wet sand, heavy in his limbs, the muscles in his face falling slack so that his lips part. The corner of his mouth is wet.

Your fingers thread into his hair. They’re tender at his scalp, nails lightly scratching at the roots, combing front to back. A shiver runs through him when you reach the nape of his neck, curling the soft short strands around your fingertip.

Shouto finds himself fighting sleep despite your instruction. His consciousness wanes, reaching the surface for breath before he’s submerged again. He wanted to be awake for this, just a while longer.

That’s the last thing he recalls before the chime of your alarm. He startled in place and shied away from the noise, tucking himself into your stomach without much thought, realising his actions only as you began to shake with laughter. To a sleep addled Shouto, it might be the most pleasant thing he has ever heard.

“I take it you slept well?” you teased.

Shouto takes in the span of his ceiling. The sun has started to set, shadows stretching across the room. Simultaneously, five minutes and five years had passed in the span of a single nap.

That might be the best he has slept all year. And he concludes, perhaps, his brain-to-mouth filter still has yet to reconnect. Midoriya can answer for it later.

“Would it be unethical of me to book your entire calendar?”

You stare blankly at where his hand was just seconds ago, gaze zeroing on the engagement ring and white gold band. His warmth is still on your skin. But his love for you apparently has been long gone

Pairing: Todoroki Shoto x Reader

Warnings: Has mature content, mentions of cheating and divorce

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

can we have another yandere bakugou bully? i have nothing unique maybe the common on where he likes to bully the girl severely all throughout highschool and then when they are abt to graduate that’s where he kidnap. If u want to add smut it’s okay but i don’t really mind i kinda just like the fear when u write like that little scared feeling THATS ITTTTT OMG I LOVE UR FICSSSSS

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, jealousy, stalking, obsession to the extreme, manipulation, blackmail, sexual harassment  angst, bullying, trauma, threats, death/near death of a third character, slut shaming

BAD GUY

How long had she known Bakugo? 

All her life. 

That was the short answer. 

He’s made himself known. Without fail, without break, without mercy. 

Childhood friends? 

Neighbours... 

That’s what she’d say.

As though there was nothing more to it. Like he wasn't a stain on her life. A stain no amount of bleach or vinegar-and-soda or peroxide-and-dish-soap could ever hope to remove.

Come to think of it, he was more like a scar than a stain. Or really, more like an open wound refusing to heal.

Which was why it felt like a rusty blade being twisted in her gut when she opened the door to find him the one who’d rung her apartment’s bell.

“I guess... what I’ve been trying to say- what I wanted to say... was... I’m sorry.” 

He’d been scratching the back of his neck throughout the entirety of what jumbled, struggled, sorry excuse for an apology he’d forced from somewhere unknown in the hard clump of ember he had for a heart.

Something which unsurprisingly made for an insulting effort to erase what effects he’d had on her childhood.

One staggering sentence after the other of frustrating confessions, wishes gone to waste, things he hadn't meant, things he would have done differently if only he were fourteen years younger, and he could start again right when his quirk manifested before he turned into a self-righteous narcissistic prick of human waste. One dedicated to making everyone revere him by fearing him.

“For everything.” 

He put his hands in his pockets, but she could still see how they twitched inside the hoodie and bet they were weeping with sweat, adamant about starting fires.

“For all the years I put you through hell.” 

He was taller now, she noted. While calculating how she’d have to call the police if she were to stand a chance of making him leave if he decided to do what he always did and make himself comfortable.

He was bigger as well. Probably thanks to UA, making him look like a true right and shining Hero... but all she could see was how it was as though he’d swelled like some blister or bruise, like some boil ready to pop and leak its nasty contents all over her life. 

“Well?” He urged, ripping her from her heavy train of thought.

She blinked. 

“Well, what?” She bit out. Still holding the door. Ready to close it if he were to try and step inside.

“Do you accept the apology?” He asked, leaning forward. Where, on pure survival instinct, she immediately drew back. While the gap between the door and frame became slimmer as she pulled it like a shield in front of her.

Her brows dipped. Eyes not daring to close. Not allowing him a single second of rest under her justified judgment.

“No.” She barked, only barely managing to avoid the scoff that wanted to follow, yet surprising herself with the strength her voice carried.

“W-what-” He started, but she wasn't feeling particularly eager to listen to any more of his dumb excuses or half-hearted regrets or too little-too-late so-called apologies.

“You fuck with me for eighteen years...”

It was strange looking directly into his vermillion eyes, watching him be the one to shrink away, him be the one to switch his footing, tense like a shamed pet under his owner's harsh, scolding voice. It almost wouldn't even have surprised her if he'd whimpered just a little with how round his eyes were, looking just like a kicked pup. 

“And you think some half-assed apology is just suddenly going to make everything okay?”

“W-” He tried, his gaze shifting to look down at his feet.

“No.” She stopped him.

Opening the door to its original cavity. She struck a dominant pose even though he was a full head taller, her eyes narrowing in something that could only resemble disgust. 

“You’re the reason I went through all of middle-school scared and alone.”

His ears drew back meekly. Feeling small under what look she was giving him. 

“I left classes early in fear of meeting you in the halls. I made sure to look around the corners before walking down them. I ate lunch in the bathroom and listened from behind the door in case you were out there waiting.” She confessed, her eyes still maintaining contact with his, firmer the more he shrunk away. “I ran home unless you hadn't already caught me, I cried myself to sleep, I lied to my parents every single fucking day because I was afraid that if they got involved with your parents, you’d have to face the wrath of your mom, and I didn't want that for you.” 

With water welling in her eyes now, she looked to the ceiling. Taking a breath, she clenched her jaw and almost chuckled at the absurdity of it. Not caring how Bakugo’s eyes seemed to widen even more. 

“I was afraid to play on our block ‘cause I knew you would come out and make me regret it.” 

She bit her lip, looking at the guy that would yank her hair to pull her inside his locker, leaving her there for entire periods.

Make her listen as he beat Deku up in the hall, his friends like goons on his side, laughing as Izuku snivelled. 

“People were afraid to be seen with me.” 

Knuckles were white and hot from how hard she clenched her fist at her side, the other gripping the door with nails marring the wood. 

“Not because I’m quirkless, but because of you.” 

Her hard gaze met him like daggers. Plunged right between his ribs into that thing that seemed to only beat faster the more she spoke. 

“You had me think that was my fault.”

A tear slipped its confinement and went dripping down her cheek, a thin stream following it.

Her breath shuddered on intake. 

“You made me think- you made think being quirkless was- was -a curse -a crime -a fucking abomination.”

Her shoulders grazed as she looked down to the ground and let more tears fall while Katsuki stood there frigid and so very rightfully uncomfortable. 

“You made me feel like I didn’t deserve to breathe.”

He opened his mouth but quickly swallowed it as he realized he would only be repeating what dumb unsatisfactory words he’d given her before. 

“You made me hate myself.” 

She couldn't possibly hate herself more than she hated him, he thought. 

“And if it wasn’t for Izuku... I wouldn’t be here.”

His thoughts flashed back to seeing her help the green-haired geek up off the floor each time he grew bored picking on him. After the halls had filled with enough smoke, it’d stain the walls grey, the scent of burning sugar a lingering reminder of who there runs the school.

“Still, you had the nerve to go about making him feel worthless too.”

She would shove him aside at once when he’d unlock his locker. She'd push at him to let her drop to her knees and tend to the green-eyed fucker who’d had the breath knocked from him. The twerp wheezing like a pathetic runt on the dirty school floors. So shamelessly unaware of how lucky he was to have someone like her tend to him.

Katsuki cleared his throat.

“I’ve talked to him too. We’re... working it out. Just tell me what I need to-” 

“I’ll accept your apology when I stop waking up in the middle of the night because I think I feel you breathing down my neck.” She cut him off again. “When I stop looking over my shoulder because I think I hear you coming. When I stop hearing your voice in my head telling me that I’m useless, that I'm worth nothing, that I'm better off dead.” 

Her eyes sized him up. Or, rather, took in his seemingly beaten state. Finding somewhat pleasure in the fact that there was at least one thing she could deny him. 

“Until then, all you need to do is leave me alone.”

At that, she shut the door and locked it.

Her back pressed against the wood almost immediately as she drooped like drying paint. Sliding down to the ground, she listened while bating her breath for the retreating steps of the boy on the opposite side. Fearing that her speech hadn't slapped him hard enough for him to go home and lick his wounds.

Katsuki stood there for a moment, and years seemed to pass.

Hood lifted over his head, his body slouched with the terrible looming weight that pressed down upon him. Feeling so fucking tired and worn and defeated as he lifted his boot to saunter back down the stairs and make his way home.

A home, which was now not right across the street like it was back when they were kids, but a whole car ride away. Seemingly lives away. A beaten track of heavy regrets and loud, blinding, bitter disappointments.

All to be blamed on him.

~~~

It had been quiet lately.

A few comments were hurled at Deku here and there. Though they were dismissible in their dynamic as rivals.

But, as surprising as it was to admit, Bakugo had kept to her wish.

Where, overlooking those times she could feel his red stare lingering on her and searing notches into her neck, he had left her alone.

He would even give her a smile when their eyes locked gaze. Nothing like those blood-dripping battle grins but soft toothless quirks playing at the corner of his lips. Pleasant and weirdly hopeful, as though she’d come over and talk to him. Like they were friends.

Suppose she should believe Izuku when he told her Kachan was better. That he’d actually gone and grown up. That the hero course was succeeding in grooming him to become a fine hero, with the merit someone talented as him should have. That even they had a fighting chance at moving on, going back to how they’d push each other on the swing set back when they were four. 

She doubted it. 

She bet he’d be strung in his rightful and true colors not before long. Just red on red in red. Slipping right back into his ugly habits of making the world his playground and the people his toys.

This was just an act.

Those smiles he gave her were nothing but bait. Nothing but lies that would ensnare her in yet another decade of living under his boot.

But time is a funny thing. Where as much as you try fighting it, it always passes.

And paranoia is a difficult plant to grow during droughts.

And with months flying by, summer break being sweetly perfect for once, she’d soon enough discarded the notion that it was a trail bound to error or the calm before the storm.

In fact... she’d more or less let it fade like normal memories should. The open wound that used to be Bakugou’s sinister grin keeping her company at night had stopped bleeding.

And in the healing and pleasant quiet, she’d allowed herself to... let loose a little.

Or perhaps she’d just forgotten to be cautious when she was swept up in those ocean-blue eyes and that diamond-bright smile.

Maybe the warm, fuzzy feeling purring inside her gut was worth forgetting and even forgiving Bakugou in favor of getting lost to something else, someone else. Something a little warmer than hatred and a burning way more welcoming than what explosions Bakugou could offer her.

.

Meanwhile... Bakugou was going insane. 

He’d been wrong. 

He thought quitting his torment on her would be easier than with Deku, but Deku proved to be the least of his worries. In some form or way... they were actually getting closer. Going back to their roots and almost amounting to something he could only call brotherhood.

But with her...

It seemed he was only drifting farther and farther away.

He saw her hold hands with some blue-eyed fuck at lunch the other day. Heard her laugh, which pushed him with such force, thrusting him back in time. Retrieving some faint yet precious memory of her and him drying in the sun after bathing in the quarry on a warm summer’s day, back when no one and nothing could be more important than hearing that sound.

A laugh so light. So fluttering and blooming and beautiful. Followed by a snort that stuck in her nose.

It was enough to make his eyes shimmer and his ears burn while hanging onto every sound, trying to ingrain it, memorise it. Trying to ink down how it made him feel. 

He made the mistake of finding her face in the crowd of what table she was seated at. Her small frame held inside the arms of the jerk she was pulled inside the lap of. A bright smile on both their faces, so bright he almost didn't even recognise her. 

But it was her.

It shouldn't have surprised him.

He’d already seen the pictures on social media when going about his normal routine of checking up on all her different forums. Already fully aware of how the bastard was some summer fling she was the poor victim of. 

He should have been prepared for it, but fuck....

It had hurt.

It had been loud and violent and jagged, like falling down a cliffside, yet so deathly silent as he sat safely in his room.

Kirishima and Denki were about halfway through their third or perhaps even fourth spliff. Laughing like clueless fucking morons without a shred or lick of issues and consequences. Having always just been nothing but laughs and smiles.

Fucking hell... He envied them so much sometimes. To be that dim. To be that careless and big-hearted and good-natured and... 

It doesn't really matter. 

Jealousy gets him nowhere.

He’s him, and they’re them, and fantasy is just that.

He knows this, and still, he finds himself fantasising about her smiling at him and giggling with him. Sitting in his lap. Whispering sweet little mischievous nothings in his ear and kissing him and talking to him and touching him and loving him.

He was so fucking frigid lately. So uncontrollably bothered and provoked and uncomfortable.

He’d even asked Deku who the fucker was. Had him spill all her dirty little secrets. How she’d been seeing the blue-eye fuck for a short while. How she thought he was really sweet and kind. How he made her happy. 

And the more he let himself think about it, let it fester like acid bubbling and foaming on his heart, the more blinding the pain became. 

And so following the pain, like it always does and always had with Bakugou...

Came rage.

She’d betrayed him. Broken his good will. 

He should have known...

Give a bitch some lee-way with her leash, and she'll take a fucking mile.

He’d been so fucking good. So fucking perfect...

Leaving her be, allowing her friends, letting her prance about in her short school skirt without any comment, not even as much a curt whistle.

And this is how she chooses to repay him?!

Fucking with some fucking fucker right in front of him?

Right in his fucking face?

Fuck, he wanted to bash his brains out. Wanted to burn him from the inside out, watch his stupid blue eyes melt like runny rotten eggs.

He snapped the cafeteria chopsticks as easily as one would a toothpick in one hand. His eyes twitched while his nostrils flared, burning the wooden splinters in his white-knuckled fist as he watched them flirt.

Her in her thigh-high socks and tight white shirt, rubbing down against his slacks. Where he bet something was struggling to stay down. Stay hidden inside the fucker’s boxers.

But looking at his face and that bright, innocent smile shining as though he wasn't a disgusting man with ulterior motives, he could see why she chose the guy... instead of him.

.

He couldn't defend why he had him pushed into the wall behind the gym.

He could try and fool himself and the scared boy by saying he had responsibilities as her eldest friend. Alike a brother has responsibilities for his sister.

But that would be the dirtiest fucking lie.

Bakugou had no right, and he knew that, he really did. He felt it in his hands as they balled up the collar to the guy’s uniform. Had the poor sucker lifted off his feet with his bright baby-blue eyes freaking out when levelled by his own deadly red stare. 

It wasn't done due to something noble like responsibility.

It was done out of pure toxic white-hot raging jealousy.

“Bakugou, man, what the fuck-” The guy tried, but the hero-course student was like a bull that saw red. Seething as he snarled into the poor boy’s face.

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

His knuckles whitened in their death-grip. Steaming with heat. Singing the fabric it clutched.

The poor boy kicked against the wall. Trying his best to reach down to the ground with the tips of his toes.

“Calm down- the fuck you talking about?” He screeched. His voice an unstable choked pathetic thing as he cowered in panic by the heat simmering close to his neck and the maroon slits that had him pinned.

“Quirkless.” Bakugou answered curtly. “Keep your fucking paws to yourself, shit-stain.”

“Quirkless?”

Split-second confusion narrowed into reliazation at the remembrance of what little information she’d given him about what strange relationship transpired between her and the loud hero-course student. 

“You mean-” He started, but was once again pulled and slammed into the brick wall behind him. Knocking his head with a wince.

“Just stay away from her!” Bakugo barked again.

“Me?” The boy objected. Though, not really in any position to further anger the fire-wielder. “What about you? You’re the one she can't stand.”

Bakugo swallowed. Stopping.

“She said what?”

His grip loosened a pinch. Allowing the guy to drop down the wall to stand on his own. Though he still remained close.

His head hung slightly. Looking at his shoes. Put-out and thoroughly ticked off.

Dangerously so.

Nose flaring as he felt his eyes sting. Wanting to break something.

Preferably bones.

Meanwhile, blue eyes widened in realisation.

“Man... you... you like her, don't you?” He asked, or rather accused. His ears drawing back and hands rising in defence.

“Shut up.” Katsuki voice grumbled from a place the other kid couldn't see. Only the wild ash-blonde bush of hair that seemed to shake with either seething rage or a building sob.

He made the mistake of thinking it was the latter.

“You’re too late, dude... years too late.” He scoffed. Unsure if whether his disbelief outweighed outrage or amusement. 

“I said-”

Bakugo lifted his head again. This time seemingly radiating with heat as sickeningly overwhelming as the scent of burning sugar. 

“Shut the fuck up!”

Though with the threat of being charred into a crisp, the boy still hadn't the smarts to know when to quit.

“Should have thought about that before treating her like shit." He mocked. "She will never forgive you, Bakugou.” 

Katsuki’s vision went blank at that, and the poor bright-eyed boy couldn't see anything but prickly spots of white in an otherwise sea of black.

Having had his head banged against the wall for one final time as he slumped down in a pathetic sack at Katsuki’s feet. 

“Beating me up won't help your case.” He coughed. Groaning in pain.

A crisp chirp was heard and Bakugou snatched the phone that had slipped from the guy’s pocket.

Reading the label of a sweet nickname which made his stomach churn and head burn.

The text doing little to ease his building fuming boiling rage. 

“She invited you to her apartment, did she? Tch- To watch Netflix.”

He put his fat military boot to the guys throat. Keeping it there with building pressure. Squeezing the air from his windpipe. Grinding him into the coarse bricks. Disregarding the weak hands that clutched to the fabric of his pant-leg desperately. 

“If the little slut wants cock, she shouldn't be asking someone like you.” He sneered. Typing something back.

“Sick-fuck, leave her alo-” 

The sweat boiling against his palm simmered in heatwaves, melting the phone before he finally ignited. Bits of glass and metal flying everywhere. Nicking his skin. Before he dropped the thing to the ground.

Unrecognizable. 

A good reference to what the boy at the end of his foot would look like once Bakugou was through with him.

.

He could hear every little thump of his heart in his head.

Pumping in the tips of his fingers. Hot and numbing.

Tongue heavy in his throat as his jaw strained. Teeth grit in his mouth.

Fist clenching at his sides. Stained with crimson.

Eyes blood-shot as they focused on placing one foot in front of the other. Counting the steps while lifting his legs.

Boots sounding heavy and substantial in their echo as he climbed the stairs to where she waited ever so unknowingly.

Ever so excitedly. With a heart hammering quite similarly to how his was pounding. For much of the same reason.

Yet hers with an entirely different person in mind.

A person that was currently struggling to breath behind the gymnasium.

He bet she was getting ready with every virginal anxious thought running on replay in her head.

If she was sexy and sultry and smooth enough? Yet, not too much, because then she'd seem like a slut. But perfectly cute and shy and girly. Timid but lustful, precious yet wanton.

She was probably practicing batting her eyelashes and pouting and biting her lips. And how she would run her hands on his skin. How she would touch, when and what to touch. What to say, what not to say. How she was going to say it. What tone of voice. Like a whisper or a moan or a needy little whine.

Wondering if she smelled good. If he liked her perfume or if it was too pungent. Maybe he doesn't like her signature scent of fresh apples.

Pondering whether her hair was nice or not. If her skin was smooth enough. If her outfit was the right choice or if she should make a quick last second change.

She's probably hid her plushies. Taken down some childish anime posters she didn't want embarrassing her. Changed the sheets. Cleaned up the kitchen, cleared out the bathroom. Tidied up so he wouldn't know what a complete clutter-head she is.

She was probably getting all hot and bothered waiting for that blue-eyed shit-stain.

Rubbing her thighs together. Letting her hand dance down between them as she lost herself to the softness of the mattress. Letting the cool air nip at her fiery hot skin, kissing her blushed red cheeks. Eyes drifting to a close. Slight soft smile on her face. Legs spread on top of the sheets.

He bet she had lighted candles. Bet she had pre-picked a handful of movies. The soundtrack to what she would be losing her virginity to. Bet she had bought sweets, and cider, maybe even wine.

Bet she was planning to make the night perfect.

Too bad he was going to ruin it.

Just like he was going to ruin her.

Just like he had been ruining everything else for the past eighteen years of their life.

Just like he was going to continue ruining her until the day they die. 

He banged on the door. Or rather, tapped a playful tune he thought would be similar to something the guy he’d bashed into a pulp not even half an hour ago would do. Something similar to what the girl behind the door was waiting to hear.

He heard her pad across the floor. Quick gleeful feet hopping to the entrance to swing it open with a great big goofy smile on her face.

Only to stop dead in her tracks.

Bakugou was taller. Bigger compared to what lean frame she was expecting.

Her eyes levelling at his chest, where she was expecting to see a familiar friendly face. Familiar pretty blue eyes.

Gaze rising to find him towering at the threshold to her home instead.

His sharp eyes looking every drop worth of red. 

“Happy to see me?” 

He pushed himself inside. Her along with him. Ever so rightfully in his stride. Stomping, like the floor beneath belonged to him. Like everything belonged to him.

“What are you doing here, Bakugou?”

Her tone was the same it always was when she addressed him. Annoyed and ugly. Like he was just another jerk. Just another face. Just another problem. 

“I heard you were serving up your virginity...”

Her face grimaced. 

“So... I came to have first take.”

Only now did she notice the blood.

Though not dripping from his fists anymore. The thickest parts were still glossy in texture. Still fresh. Whereas all else had turned sticky. Coating him like a second skin.

Her face shed its disgusted features and drained. Paled, chilled and tightened.

Scrutinising eyes turning wide like skies. Little flecks of shimmer flickering like starlight within the glossy pools.

Her mouth parted and hung open to let a gasp out as she eyed the blood-splatter on his jacket. Gaze glitching as she struggled to take in the maroon colour of his fists.

“Whu- what did you do? What did you do to him?”

She shook. Hands raising to level with her chest. Forming some type of feeble shield as she stepped away from the menacing man.

Bakugo simply followed. His dominant footing naturally succeeding hers. The space between them shortening quickly.

“Worried about your lapdog?” He laughed.

Stalking forward. He trapped her further into the apartment. Watching her petrified moves clumsily try and keep the distance.

“Don't think about it too much.”

“Get out, Bakugou. I'll call the cops.” She tried sounding strong even as she whimpered.

That made him crack a smile. And by All Might did it feel like it was the first time in such a very long time that he could finally breathe again.

“Why so hostile?” He barked out with another laugh. A growl like thunder behind that wide sharpened grin. “We’re friends, aren't we?”

His red-eyes gleaming. Just like they did all throughout primary-school. Just like they do when he’s about to beat the shit out of someone. Just like how they do when he can taste that addictive bitingly sweet flavour of victory on his tongue. 

“Besides...”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her like he was admiring something. 

“You’ll never make it to the phone in time.”

She should have run towards the bathroom instead.

Granted, that’s why he’d made the comment.

Make her think that the phone was of importance. Where it laid blank and black on her bed. The exact destination he wanted her.

It was of no use to her smashed against the wall.

Nor was she ever in reach of it anyway. Not with Bakugo and his blood-stained hands keeping her down.

“I've wanted you our entire fucking lives.” He seethed.

Strong dedicated hands curled around her wrists. Pressing her down into the mattress. 

“I’m the only one who deserves you!” He roared into her ear. His words hot on her cheek.

Her eyes scrunched closed. Her face tight as she felt the heavy weight of the brute on top of her. 

“And no one-”

His grip tightened as his voice turned so gruffly dark it made her heart stop.

“No one is going to take you away from me.” He growled. “Especially not some blue-eyed shit-eating waste.” 

Greediness got the best of him this time as he dived in to take a kiss. One hungry, open-mouthed, wanting, lustful, desperate, raw and wolfish kiss. Where in all her fuelled panicked adrenaline, driving purely on blind instinct, perhaps also due to Bakugo not being used to handling something so much smaller, she managed to angle her legs in a way that gave her permission to knee him right in the groin.

Second chances are only given once. But she was a smart girl and knew she wouldn't make it to the door in time. Knew that her best hope was to lock herself in.

And if being quirkless had taught her anything, it was to hope for a hero to come to her rescue.

That her only chance was to pray for her blue-eyed angel to come and save her.

The bathroom was the safest bet for now.

He had to laugh as he grabbed his aching ball-sack through the slacks of his uniform. Torn between being impressed and pissed off.

He'd only barely missed grabbing her ankle before she slipped through the door and pulled it to a close. The click of a lock sounding off soon after.

“I was never good enough for you.” He growled. The sound muffled into the floor where he lied.

His fist clenched as he banged the shoddy faux-wood paneling.

“All our lives! Didn't matter what I did... you were always gonna hate me.”

She fumbled around the bathroom in a shaky frenzy. Eyes spiralling. Trying to find anything sharp. Anything at all she could use as a weapon if the door proved too weak to withstand the force of Bakugou. 

“You were always gonna fear me.” He scoffed. "Weak and quirkless- heh... heck... it wouldn't even matter if I was quirkless too. You'd fear me either way."

Her heart beating like a galloping racehorse. Mind reeling in on the fact that he was taking his sweet time. Just like predators do when they’ve already caught their prey.

Playing with her.

“More than Deku ever did... But I guess I fucked with him differently from how I fucked with you.”

All she found was an old nail-filer. Not exactly sharp and not really at all that long. But her best and only option.

She knew it wouldn't do shit in the end though.

And then it was quiet again.

And she shook as she held onto her tiny weapon. Tears burning down her damp aching skin while every shuddering breath she dared supply her lungs with felt like it would cause her to combust as though she was made out up of thin glass.

And yet, in the chaos of fear, it was still so dreadfully painstakingly quiet. 

Until he decided to break the silence again.

“He’s bleeding out where no one’ll ever find him...” 

His voice wasn't haunting. It wasn't amused, but dead and had the ability to make her feel dead as well.

Blood freezing over. Heart eerily sinking like a block of led inside her. Skin crawling. Cold and raw and naked.

She shook. Looking back at the door. Admitting the flimsy wood was as much defence as paper to the hellhound on the other side.

Though, in the light of his taunt, her safety seemed miles away from her biggest worry.

“He’s dying, Quirkless.”

She knew then all she could do was watch.

Watch the tacky white paint-job flake on the planks.

Watch the door and wait for it to come splitting and splintering to oblivion. Like there was no door there at all. 

But it hardly mattered...

What happens to her hardly matters. 

Just like running to safety when Bakugo caught Deku and her in the school-halls wasn't ever what she did. No matter how much Deku would plead for her to run. She wouldn't.

She would do anything to switch places with him. Anything so he wouldn't be the one limping home with a cut on his cheek and a broken rib. 

“And it’s all your fault.”

She whimpered at that. Nail-filer held tightly in her hand, but only for a couple more seconds until it went clattering to the cold tiles by her feet. 

“You know how this works...” He said calmly. “You come out here... and I'll make sure he survives.”

She took a step closer to his voice. Knees numb and weak yet steady. Her hand reaching out to the doorknob. Blood prickling where it rushed about. 

“You unlock the door. Step out in your pretty little dress... and I’ll go fetch the wine.”

She swallowed. Burning fingertips touching down on the icy metal of the knob. Trembling as she drew in a shaky breath, and pulled the trigger. 

He heard the click of the lock opening and scoffed out a curt chuckle. Lips curling into a smile that showed off his teeth as he watched her small bare-foot step out.

Shiny leg following. Knees then after. The hem of her skirt that frilled loosely around her thighs. Up and up to the swell of her breasts and her chest. Her collarbones and neck.

And that pretty defeated little face. 

He sauntered over to the kitchen nook where he’d spotted the wine. Washing the blood from his hands first while thinking it weird and silly and slightly shameful that he’d imagined this so many times.

Her in a pretty dress. Thin summer fabric, easily torn. Silky and form-fitting. Leaving just her natural silhouette.

Drinking red in a dimly lit room. The taste still on her tongue when he kisses her.

“Drink.” He commanded. His hand shoving the open bottle to her lips. Tilting it up and spilling it over her chest.

She gasped but did nothing to stop him. Not so much as backing away even.

She just stood there and bowed her head as the maroon liquid, strong in scent, stained her skin. Seeping through her clothing. Spilling down the valley between her breasts.

Making her shift uncomfortably as the stream trailed down to drip between her thighs. Soaking her underwear.

And then she sniffled. Biting her bottom lip, with brows curled into such an adorable woeful look it made him want to lick the tears off her precious little face.

He lobbed the empty bottle into a cushioned armchair. Hand returning to raise her chin with his knuckles. Pushing down on her lip with his thumb, hooking it onto the bottom row of teeth, making her gape as she looked up at him.

He had the thought of spitting. But, found that he didn't really feel like it.

“You never dared put a word to it.” He stated instead.

His red eyes somehow seeming so cold, so lifeless. His lips a stern firm line. Features blank beside the tension in his jaw. 

“You’re afraid to acknowledge it.”

Thumbing her lip a second time as he licked his own. He brushed her hair behind her shoulders with his other hand. Knuckles gliding over the spaghetti-straps to her dress. Amusing the idea of how easy they’d be to rip loose.

Then acting on that very same thought. 

Torn fabric pooled around her ankles as she stood there bleating. Still not daring to move a single muscle. Not with his thumb still in her mouth and the wine spilled on her skin still dripping down her legs making her shiver on a coat of goosebumps.

He licked his lips again with his eyes drinking in the sight of her glowing dewy skin. Looking to her face and how the hot streams of tears ran down her cheeks as silently as she could muster.

Removing his hand from her mouth. He turned around with a scoff.

Walking off to her bedside table. He sighed as he begun removing his rings. The ones that made it easier to split skin open upon impact.

She guessed she should have seen it as a relief. But, she couldn't bring herself to it. 

“You'd never say anything, but you knew.” 

He threw his grey blazer to the floor. Un-cuffing his sleeves before rolling them up to his elbows. Arms flexing while unbuckling his belt. Ripping the leather out through the reims and dropping it to the floor with a sharp clatter. Tugging loose his red tie to free his collar so that he could pop open the first three buttons of his shirt.

Getting comfortable.

“Shit- you must’ve known.” 

He returned to where she still hadn't dared move a muscle. Her eyes only skittering around as he preformed his rituals.

The wine drying to a sticky thick sheen on her skin. Tinting her with pink. 

“You never cried either.” He stated.

Though, it wasn't true. 

“Deku would fucking wail like a kicked bitch, but you’d just stare at me... So much fucking hatred in your eyes...”

His hands dropped to his sides and her eyes anxiously trailed the thick veins running like lightning across his bulging muscles. 

“No tears. No rage. Just hate.”

A tiny whimper sprung form the confines of her tight chest as he fingered the thin silky material of the lacy racy red panty at her hip.

Knees shaking as she bowed her head some more.

Toes curling into their own comfort. Trying to escape the threat of being crushed beneath his big heavy combat boots. 

“But you cried.. when I touched you in ways I really shouldn't have.” 

One time, she'd dared fall asleep at her desk. So tired from a night spent crying because she couldn't get Bakugou to stop dunking Izuku’s head in the nasty toilet bowls of the school bathroom.

Only to be woken up by Katsuki’s thick warm sluggish tongue gliding up her sore cheek as she hugged the desk.

Finding the video in her inbox of someone jacking off right into her unsuspecting sleeping face. Knowing it was Katsuki but having not a single way to prove it. 

“When it was just the two of us and I said things and did things, touched things-” 

He’d sweet talk with her mother. Acting so trivial with his handsome charming smile that would easily have any of the girl’s panties dropping if only he’d use it more often. Were it not for him wasting it on manipulating and arranging it so that he would be the one driving her home after school when he turned sixteen.

Brand new car and everything. Meant to impress her.

Perhaps she would have let herself fall for it if he hadn't put his hand on her thigh. If he hadn't locked the doors and trapped her in there with him.

Maybe she would have thanked him for the ride home if he hadn't made her beg him to get off her. Only allowed to go after he’d marked up her pretty neck and twisted a nipple or two once or twice until they were left sore.

“Made you do things, say things, give me things.” 

He’d bargain with her often.

Give him her panties and he’ll leave Deku alone at lunch. Give him a minute in an empty class-room with just the two of them and he’ll leave them both alone for a grand total of a day. 

And to no ones surprise. Feed greed and greed will grow like a weed. 

Soon small exchanges turned to threats.

Telling her to stop hanging out with Deku or else he’ll beat the nerd within an inch of his life. Come to his house after classes or suffer the nastiest of rumors being spread about her all around school. Send him a pretty picture and he won't leak what other pretty pictures he’s taken when she wasn't looking.

“I thought you’d call me out on it...”

She felt the puffs of his breathing hit against the top of her head. Her eyes dead-set on watching the movement of his hands that now had taken ahold of her waist. His thumb messaging around the hipbone. Pulling her closer before he stepped to her side. His large palm laid flat on her belly. The other gripping her midriff as he stopped behind her. Hot air running down her neck and spine where his breathing turned rugged. 

“Went over battle-plans in my head-” He chuckled. “How I’d say you'd become just as fucking obsessed with me as Deku. How you shouldn't flatter yourself. How fucking desperate you must be to be falling in love with your own fucking bully.” 

He wasn't always bad.

In all their years. In all fucked-up relations. He’d never let anyone else ever pick on her.

Where after fights. Sometimes drunken and other times not. He would never fuss when she rinsed out his wounds and patched him up. Instead always giving his thanks in the form of leaving in peace.

Sometimes she wonders if that was the reason he started getting into fights in the first place...

To have her stitch him back up again.

But she’d always deemed the thought foolish. And if not that then... scary.

She stopped at one point. After the time he’d fucked Deku up so badly, she hadn't enough bandages for the both of them. Favoring the freckle-faced one and his second-degree burns above the ash-blonde and the minor gash he got when she pushed him away and he fell to the ground.

But... still...

He wasn't always bad.

In fact, be it a brief moment. Sometimes she would even forget he was bad at all.

Sometimes he’d crack a few jokes when driving her home. Cackle out a laugh that somehow seemed to warm her gut. His eyes gentle as he peeked over at her from the driver’s seat. One hand held lazily on the wheel. Sun glowing on his face. Making him look like a dandelion in its prime.

So soft and so childishly happy.

Until and unless, of course. He’d lock the doors with her inside, and refuse to take her home. Sometimes leaving her on the side of the road when she wouldn't repay him for his kindness.

He’d come back though...

Sometimes.

He wasn't always bad.

Which is what made it hurt so much more when he was.

Sometimes he’d be sweet. Leaving cupcakes outside her home for her on her birthday. Offering her his jacket or hoodie on cold days.

So sweet. He’d ask her about things.

How her day was. What she’ll be doing once she gets home.

And seem truly genuinely interested each time she’d offer him an answer.

He’d even be cute on some days too.

When she’d ask him in return.

He’d talk up storms of ambition miles out of her reach. Of his hopes and his dreams and pursuits.

And she’d almost believe that the reasoning behind his quirk was passion and not violence.

He wasn't all bad.

Even when he’d forced her into yet another study-date at his house. He’d still provide much better tutoring than anyone else ever managed.

Patient and determined. As though he truthfully cared. Even with his hand drawing greedy circles on the fat of her thigh. With his fingers tickling over the thin fabric of her undies as he made her sit on his lap. 

He wasn't only bad.

Because when she cried. When he’d make her cry. He’d always stroke the tears away with his thumb.

He would hush and coo at her. Tread loose locks of hair behind her ears and put her head against his chest.

Squeeze her until she felt like a human being again. Until her breaths would calm down to let her settle fully into his embrace.

He isn't evil.

But...

If he thinks she would or could ever...

Fall in love with him...

Then he must be...

Insane.

She placed a small hand over his knuckles once the grip he had on her waist become more like a pinch than a caress. Soundlessly asking him to loosen up.

But, only succeeding in making him even more rowdy.

Her small body was pulled harshly back into him. Her back pressed firmly against his stiff warm chest as he nuzzled his chin into the nook of her neck.

Letting his nose run along her jawline. Rub against her ear.

His thick arms coiling around her like an overbearing hug. One that had his heart thumping brutally against her spine when beating out of his ribcage.

And dick growing warm and heavy and pointy against her ass.

“You never said a thing though... you just looked at me, with so much... horror.”

She winced.

Her hands ever so gentle. Laying themselves on top of his arms.

Feeling like toothpicks against steel.

But she couldn't very well do nothing when he was squeezing her lungs free of air. 

“You fucking hated me.” 

It almost sounded like he was crying. Like he was sorry. Like he was pained and in regret.

His head rubbing against her shoulder. Trying to hold her even closer. Lifting her to her toes as he hunched over her small breakable frame.

And she thought she heard a sniffle before he spoke up again. 

“So, I’ve been thinking...”

His tone was steadier now. Hot against her ear.

And even hotter as he flicked her lobe with his tongue. Making her cringe out a fearful whimper. 

“You want me to be the bad guy?” 

Everything stilled. 

“Fuck it- I’ll be the bad guy.” 

At that she was thrown to the bed.

Weak knees carrying her staggeringly. Receiving the edge of the foot-end with her hands.

Though not left slumped against the mattress for long as strong hands once again imposed on her being.

Pulling at her by snatching the band of her underwear and yanking her up to be placed on the bed with no hope of scurrying away.

“Please-” She whimpered.

Her tiny hands gripping the bedsheets for support. Trying to soothe the ache of the wedgie her childhood bully was giving her a great nostalgia trip with. 

He smirked sadistically down at her before dropping her down with a bounce on the bed. Pulling her arm to flip her over on her back.

“Is that the only word you know?”

He quickly got on top of her. Fitting almost immediately between her thighs. Kneeling whilst looming above her half naked vulnerable self.

His hand placed at her throat. Keeping her down.

Whereas the other stroked tentative fingers down the smooth skin of her stomach. 

“I think you know my name too, don't you?”

“Please, Bakugo-”

Her hands clutched onto his arm. Legs kicking though having no target to hit where they were spread out on each side of his torso. Looking like a ladybug on its back.

“No-” He clicked his tongue while his hand closed in on the elastic band to her perfect red lace-panties.

Ones that seemed entirely picked out for him. 

“That’s not what you used to call me.”

“Katsuki-” She sobbed. Wiggling beneath his touch. Trying desperately to shake him off like he was some bug leaching off her blood. “Please stop.” 

“Wrong again.”

Her efforts where ignored by the ash-blonde looming above her.

His hand utterly unbothered by her squirming. Brushing warm digits over the fabric to her pretty lace bottoms. Feeling her warmth seep through the thin silk as his fingertips ran up and down, dipping slightly into the squishy sensitive flesh. Almost as though he was cuddling with her tender sex. Coaxing for a reaction.

“Kachan, please.” She whined and he closed his eyes for a brief second to enjoy the sound of the nickname.

Such potent nostalgia making his heart fuzz and stomach warm. Pool with something sticky and sweet.

An appreciative soft hum slipped from him. Pushing his otherwise stiff lips into a small smile.

“There we go.... Perfect. Just like the good ol’ days.” He mused. His hand still rubbing abrasively large fingers between the space of her thighs.

Thumbing at where he felt her little clit wake up. 

“Keep begging. You’re good at it.”

Her throat buzzed with warmth beneath the weight and simmering heat of the hand wrapped tightly around it. Successfully keeping her down and pushed into her pillow with no hope of shimming away from the other dangerous venturing hand.

She blinked away more tears. Felt them trail down into her hairline by her temple, itching on her scalp. Whimpering at the feel of his teeth nip on her collarbone, his warm tongue licking at the bittersweet dried wine, and the surprisingly pillowy lips kissing at her shoulder.

“You don't have to do this...” She attempted when the hand around her throat moved slightly to grip her cheeks instead. His fingers pushing into each their cavity of plush flesh, making her pout like a fish. Her lips pushed into a makeshift kiss.

To no surprise he chose to ignore whatever pitiful plea she’d wasted her breathe on. Too focused on drawing patterns into the heat between her legs. 

“Fuck- I’ve missed this face.” He moaned. His breath hitting her lips as she shook beneath him. “This fucking adorable crybaby face.”

He licked his lips again, and his shameless wanton eyes stared lustfully down at her own glossy ones. 

“You look so fucking pathetic.”

His mind couldn't help but stray as his heart clenched with fear for a split second. Getting lost to the unsavoury memory... Wondering if that was what he had looked like when the sludge-villain had him neck deep in despair. When he couldn't breathe. And how the whole experience had left him wanting for a type of comfort he in no way deserved.

Where in the self-loathing...

Being a villain had never seemed quite so inviting.

She didn't expect the kiss to be so soft.

She thought he was going to bite and chew and swallow.

But he brushed his lips quite smoothly against hers. Swiping his tongue over her bottom lip before pushing gently through to taste her.

With it she forgot to breathe. And in that darkness and stillness of having her lifelong fiend kiss her with the care no one she’d ever kissed had given her, she was left listening to what soft hums left the brutish male on top.

Wondering why he so suddenly sounded like he was nothing more but a boy kissing his crush for the first time.

And perhaps she would have forgotten who it was completely...

If only it weren't for the greedy hand that had finally decided to push aside the flimsy lace and push through the tender neatly-shaven lips of her drooling virginity.

“Aww-” His voice scraped mockingly. Gutturally low and sadistically gleeful. Hot on her lips. “Did you get yourself all nice and ready for me?”

She winced out a whimper as he pushed a thick muscly finger into her hole, playing with the tightness for a moment before filling her up with the entire length of his large long-reaching digit. 

“So wet-” He commented, much to her embarrassment.

Though in her defence she had been awaiting someone else in silly thrill for the past hours, preparing like a little girl before the first day of school. 

“All hot and bothered, waiting for me to come?”

She sobbed in disgust as he started pumping and messaging her aching needy arousal. Her thighs trembling at how much the sticky warmth in her gut seemed to hum in utter betrayal by the blissful pleasure. 

“You. Little. Fucking. Slut.” He whispered.

A haughty smile carved on his face as he watched the way her cheeks pooled with red and the shaky intake of breath on her lips, while feeling her tightness clench and pulsate on nothing more but one measly lonesome finger. 

“How does it feel? Huh?” He panted against her cheek as she still ever so foolishly tried squirming away. “How does it feel to cum on my fucking hand? Same hand that’s been pushing you around your entire fucking life?”

She tried winding her thighs shut, but every shift had him sinking his finger in deeper and hooking it cruelly into her tightness. 

“I bet you like it. No, I know you like it.”

He sunk a second one in and she cried out a wince, biting her lip to try and suppress the terrible treacherous moan that wanted to bloom from her throat as her pussy clenched, sucking happily on the new digit taking up the taunt space inside her. 

“I can feel it plain and simple. Your slutty cunt clenching my fingers like your fucking life depends on it.” He snickered, knowing exactly what he was doing as he slid and slotted the two thick digits in and out while having his thumb pressing evilly into her clit, making her back want to arch off the bed as he kissed at her jaw, whispering his cruel words. “Fuck... I can even hear it.” 

She wanted nothing more but to twist away, thinking things wouldn't be half as bad if she didn't have his lips on her cheek and his words tickling her ear and his eyes watching her every move as he made her cum on his hand with that sick twisted smirk on his face.

All she could do was count her blessing that he didn't have the ability to read her mind, because then he’d also know of how the growl in his throat still somehow managed to make the adder in her gut coil and purr with pleasure and how it made her cry in disgust of herself.

But then she was there.

Lips parted to gasp out the last moan yet caught by his and locked in yet another soul-sucking kiss that she now had not the strength or the mind to fight because all she could do was think of the fluttering rippling from the little pressure point found beneath his coarse thumb, and how with every little flick it sent blitz shooting through her core, zipping along her thighs, making her back lurch off the bed and into his chest, where his heart was panicking like a fucking madman with a hammer on an anvil.

His stomach warming at the sight of her all silken and soft and coming undone on his brutish hand, with her lips caught between his teeth as he kissed her like he was pouring his soul down her throat. 

Until she woke up, after only a few passing seconds, a fleeting moment of bliss.

“You- you’re a fuck-king monster.” 

Pained bleary oceans looked up into scarlet bloodbaths, yet couldn't see the amount of awe found in them, or saw it only to feel a deep shudder of disgust on the account of it.

The hand around her throat, kept there like a noose or a collar, didn't take kindly to her words.

Far from happy at how she chose to rob him of his satisfaction a moment too soon.

And if there’s one thing people know about Bakugo, it’s how if one indecent desire isn't satiated, he’ll gladly indulge another.

The strong trained hand made to squeeze frail fragile pipes.

His lips turned grim and stiff. Bloodthirsty eyes beholding what he’d always wanted to call his. Spiteful and desperate to make his wishes come true by any means necessary.

“This is how easy it would be, Quirkless.” He commented while listening to her choking.

Scarlet eyes watched, seemingly indifferent to the sight of her hopelessly trying to gasp for the air his hand wouldn't allow passage through to her burning lungs. 

“It’d only take a minute and you’d be gone forever.” 

He squeezed tighter and listened to her squeak.

Her little useless hands loosening their hold on his larger paw. Giving out, before his fist detached and she sprung back to life.

Coughing and gulping for air. Her hand soothing her throat as she tried curling up into herself, though not allowed to go anywhere but where Bakugo wanted her. His hands finding new purpose in holding her by the hips.

He pulled her naked body closer to his, which had her tender slick-soaked mess brush against the rough fabric to his pants, and her sensitive nipples, perky from the cool air, rub on his cotton-shirt. 

“If I were you, I’d try figuring out ways to stay alive.” 

Her lips quivered. Brows furrowed as she looked at him, thinking she’d never seen him quite this stone-cold.

Feeling that little ounce of hope she still had left for the boy in her heart flicker with its last will. Snuffed out by how he dragged her off her back and made her sit on his lap.

His harsh fingers burying themselves in the dough of her hips while his erection laid like a large bump of scratchy material against her clit, making her cringe as she trembled with tears falling silently in thin streams down her cheeks. 

“Remember what you said to Deku when the shrimp tried fighting back?”

She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Feeling a hand leave her hip, and soon after the rip of a zipper being pulled. Her shoulders sinking as her breath shuddered. 

“He’s not worth it.”

She felt his thighs shift beneath her, but she didn't dare open her eyes.

All she could do was swallow and feel the cold air brush against her naked flesh as she heated up by the fact that Katsuki was pulling his dick out with the intention to sink it inside her.

“I slapped the old hag that day when she asked me what was wrong. Square across the face. She had burns for months.”

She whimpered when she felt his breath on her cheek, and recoiled back, though held firmly and painfully by the large hand on her hip. 

“You want me to slap you?” His voice was weirdly sweet whilst a knuckle went sliding against her cheek to pull the curtain of hair out of her face.

His lips soon pressing against her cheek as she choked on her own whimpering shallow breaths. 

“No, right?” He whispered and that’s when she felt it.

Plush like velvet, squishy and warm, burning, thick and rounded, bobbing against her clit, being pushed to slide through her folds, make her squirm on top of him. 

“So be a good slut and ride my fucking dick.”

He added pressure to the small of her back.

The slight inclination of heat and sweat in his palm telling her to move closer until she was hovering above something else that was radiating heat between her thighs.

Brushing up against her opening.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt it push, and she opened her eyes to look at him with the most pleadful expression she could muster.

Her lips trembling to their complete own accord, and brows joining the same dance of tremor.

“Kachan-”

But there was nothing staring back at her.

Nothing she could call human.

Not kindness nor mercy.

Not even pity.

“Come on, Quirkless. Show me what you were gonna do with that blue-eyed fuck.”

He didn't make a single move, as though he was waiting for her to do it for him. 

“Don't be shy. Come on, slut.”

His fingers dug into her hips and she knew, by the burning cold in his eyes, he was dead-set on making her feel every lick of his hatred. 

And it was hatred.

She couldn't allow it to be anything else.

She couldn't bare the thought of it being anything remotely similar to love as she lowered her hips slowly for him to fill her up inch by thick inch, sliding inside her wet virgin walls, all the way to the hilt, until his bulging head kissed sweetly into her screaming cervix.

It couldn't be love.

She didn't get a second to think before his hand once again grabbed ahold of her face.

His sandpaper fingers mushing her soft cheeks, making her stare into his bleeding-red look with those moon-wide tear-soaked horrified pretty eyes.

“Is this what it takes for you to notice me?” He puffed. “Huh? Can’t fucking focus without me threatening your life?”

She still flinched at the sharpness of his words. Feeling cold and tense and so very dreadfully alone, even with him twitching inside her. 

“Am I only worth it when I got my cock balls-deep inside you?”  

She closed her eyes but it was a mistake.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, fucking bitch!” He barked. Spit flying into her squished face a mere half-inch away from his teeth. “You want me to fuck you like one? Bend you over, make you take it from behind, on your knees with your face down, like a good for nothing cum-dump whore?!”

His other hand pulled her even closer, made her tits hug against his chest where he still hadn't bothered removing his shirt. Buttons sharp and abrasive against her flesh as she shook at the feel of his cock warming and stretching her out. Weirded-out with how it sat lodged so well inside the comfort of her pussy, and how she was unwillingly clamping down around the girth of him, sucking on him gratefully, happily and passionately like how they used to huddle for warmth at nap-time on playdates.

He kissed her again. His forehead pushing achingly into hers. Noses hugging. Lips strutting forward and pressing into hers like letting go meant dying, where even his breath shuddered as she could swear his eyes seemed a bit more glossy then than before. Though it could easily have been brushed off as just a trick of the light in the dimly lit bleakness of her apartment in the night.

"Do you-" He whispered in a voice like from a complete different person. “Remember our first kiss?”

It had been back when they were only four and having only the slightest clue what kisses even were, but she could never forget it. 

“You told me I sucked.” He added.

“I- I told you not to use so much teeth.” She whimpered. Voice weak and blubbering like it had been back in kindergarten. Soft and sweet and shy and only barely above a whisper.

“Guess I never learn...” 

He didn't pull away. Their foreheads still seemingly glued together. Noses bumping. Breaths cohesive. 

“You haven’t changed much since then either.”

That broke her heart. 

His hands tightened against her flesh.

“Now ride. Or next time I fuck you, blue-eyes rotting head will be watching us.”

TIP-JAR

There's a slow song playing when you get home. You drop your bag, toe out of your shoes as you make your way to the living room to find that Dabi's cleared the furniture away, giving the room more space.

On his phone, is a slow song blaring through the speakers, just loud enough that you can talk normally.

'Dabi, what's this?' You ask, and he turns. He's wearing simple clothes, but his grin is bright.

'This is for you, babe. Come here.'

He takes your hand, pulling you close. 'May I have this dance?'

Giggling, you nod and let him lead, the sides of your heads pressed together. It's unexpected, but that's what makes it even better.

-dabihawksluva

This is so sweet 🥹🥹 thank you. I woke up not feeling great but seeing this just made my day @dabihawksluva

I’ve never actually danced with anyone before but for dabi I’d do it any day 💙