Curate, connect, and discover
tiktok reader universe
contains mentions of sexual assault. cisfem reader.
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There's still times when Bakugo can tell your mind wanders during sex. The focus drains from your eyes, your grip goes limp, and your smile slips just a bit. You always come back to him if he says something, but... sometimes he lets it happen, lets you drift away. Maybe the distance is needed.
Even after all this time, you still never sleep over after sex. Tonight, you're a bit more impatient than usual, fixing your hair and wiping your brow right after he pulls away.
"I was offered a job today," you say casually.
"Yeah?" Bakugo loops an arm around the empty pillow that could be yours, if only you'd lean back into it. "With who?"
Instead, he's left to study the curve of your spine as you throw your legs over the side of the bed. He loves the story your body tells, with its scars and marks. Even the acne pocks are a reminder you were once just a teenager, just like he was. His own scars have puckered with age, still the same raging pink they were when they first healed.
"Someone with way too much money-" you say. -"who likes what I've done for your image and thinks I can fix theirs."
"And can you?"
You shoot him a grin from over your shoulder. "Is that even a question?"
Truthfully, Bakugo thinks you could do anything if you wanted to. You could lean over and rip his heart from his chest with just your fucking teeth-- and you'd make it look easy. He'd maybe even thank you. He'd definitely let it happen again.
Bakugo gives up on luring you back. "Well, when do you start?"
Your head tilts.
"I don't," you say."I didn't take the job."
Bakugo sits up straighter.
"I didn't want to leave you."
The statement sits warm in his chest, then quickly cools.
"Well, maybe you should have."
That makes you turn. You cock your head the other way, expression neutral, but still gracing him with a closed lip grin. The stare lasts for a long while before you crawl back under the covers and return to his side. Your lips find the side of his neck and your hands grip back to him, hot, heavy, breathless in that way you think he likes. A hum builds in your throat, a rolling, performative sound.
"Pull your cock out," you demand, right into the shell of his ear. "If this is the last time, I want another round."
"What?"
He doesn't have time to react before you're gripping his half hard cock, jerking it up gently. It's still wet with you and buzzing with sensitivity, so much so that he can't help but enjoy it, enjoy you-
"If you're about to break up with me, I want to at least cum one more time."
He loses the remnants of his erection.
"That's not what I fucking meant." Bakugo tries to meet your eye, but you just keep kissing at him, gripping at him. "Just-- stop stroking my cock for a second and be fucking serious."
You freeze, but keep your hand on him.
"I don't wanna work together," Bakugo reaches for your hand. The free one. "I just want to date."
You don't respond.
"I want to take you places and have you meet my parents and-"
God. this is so unlike him. When did he lose his teeth? Did you pull them straight from his skull and hang them from your neck like jewels?
"I want you to sleep over." He means it. "Like a real fucking couple."
The ceiling fan hums with an uneven hitch, catching in the same spot each time. It's an easy fix, but he's been ignoring it for so long that it's almost blended into the tapestry of his home. Click-click-click-click-click: now it's deafening, overwhelming the silence you're choosing to sit in. Just as he's about to open his mouth, you look away from his body and meet his eye. There's no sharp edge to your eyes.
"'tsuki."
You say it like a mother about to comfort a child, with a rounded curve to your tone that he's never heard before. You're trying to dull the blow, but it does nothing. It's a fucking knife to the gut.
"I'm serious. I'm really serious." He points with his whole arm towards the bathroom. "I've had a fucking toothbrush ready for you for weeks now. It's right there, in the fucking package."
You withdraw, smile long gone. The air between you two, trapped under the covers, goes cold.
"The girlfriend thing." You are unrecognizable without your Mona Lisa grin and he's obsessed with it. He wants to consume these rare moments, chew on them until he's full of you and only you, despite how it makes his stomach turn. "It was never real. You know that."
You cover your bare tits with one arm, but leave your pussy exposed. It feels like a reflex more than an actual concern.
"I'm not meant to be a girlfriend. You don't want me as a girlfriend."
Bakugo's quick to close the distance between you, but he pauses when you full body flinch. Your quirk activates for a moment - you glitter out of existence and then immediately back in- like it's unwittingly done. It's another incredibly un-you moment, but one that he doesn't want to drink in.
"I do." He keeps his voice as delicate as he can. "I do. I fucking do."
"I don't know how to do the things you need. I don't know how to be a girlfriend," you say. The corners of your smile return and he can see the wall coming back up. The arch of your back, the way your hand suddenly cups your tit: you turn yourself into someone else, someone's who's happy to be here, in an instant. "I can make myself girlfriend shaped. I can open my mouth and let you fuck it. I can pose for a picture. I can make your friends jealous."
Oh, and that distant look comes back to your face. The dilation of your eye is just... wrong, even as you smile.
"But I'm just something that's girlfriend shaped," you say. "I'm an illusion, a creature, a tool, a hole-"
"Don't ever say that shit again."
It rips out of him too roughly. "A hole? That's-- why would you say that?"
It all seems to hit you slowly, as if you're processing your own words. Like it never occured to you that you were saying something foul.
"Because-" you try to explain yourself.
"You're just a girl," Bakugo doesn't let you finish the thought. He can't. Not when you're above him like that, so guarded and yet so vulnerable, neither predator nor prey. "I hate to break your fucking illusion or whatever, but you aren't this fucking lumbering beast or huntress or, or, or, I dunno, whatever the commission has tricked you into believing."
He tries to meet your eye, but you're ducking away from it.
"You're just a girl." He lets his hands fall back to his lap. The pinky that doesn't work twitches, kicking with it's old muscle memory. The scar tissue itches under it's own tautness. "Underneath it all. You're just a girl."
The mattress creaks under your weight as you shift back. Now, your eyes are incredibly focused, almost pinpricks. You watch him with an unreadable expression, one slowly inching more towards horror with every moment.
"You think I can't see you, but I can." Bakugo stays where he is. "And I think you want to be seen."
Everything moves slowly. You blink a couple times, with this meek nod, swallowing thickly as you listen. Then, you get off of the bed and head towards the door. All of your clothes are still scattered on the bedroom floor, your panties at the foot of the bed.
"Wait." Bakugo scrambles to get to his feet. "Don't- fucking wait."
He says your name, once, twice, three times, and gets no response. Panic and regret swirl in his skull, so violent he almost goes lightheaded. By the time he reaches the hall, you're gone, and he thinks you've activated your quirk to escape him. It's the nightmare he's always had around you, the one where you disappear into the night the second he gets too close.
And then the bathroom light flicks on. With a careful trepidation, Bakugo inches down towards the door, afraid the break the illusion. Maybe, if he moves too fast, you'll really scatter off into the night, a deer under his headlights.
But when he slides into the frame, you're just standing there, holding a familiar little tube.
"This it?" You hold the package in your hand. "My toothbrush?"
"Yeah."
With your thumbs, you crack into the packaging and carefully peel the toothbrush out. You run the head under the faucet, then turn it off.
"Toothpaste?"
Bakugo pulls out the top drawer. With a sullen nod, you take the toothpaste and unscrew the top. Bakugo watches you, both of you completely naked, both of you completely silent. It surprises him how unsexual it feels to be here, postcoital, still sweaty, watching you brush your teeth. After the moment settles, he steps over and grabs his own brush.
You're just a girl, he thinks as he brushes his teeth next to you. He likes that you're just a girl next to him.
The both of you finish up, then you silently pad back to the room. Bakugo follows, a healthy distance, but close enough the he watches you shrug on his sweatshirt before dipping under the covers. Your head rests on your pillow.
Bakugo finds his space on the other side of the bed and you lay there, in the dim overhead lighting.
"It's hard for me," you say.
"Sleeping?"
"Yeah."
Bakugo turns on to his side and almost reaches out. Almost. Instead, he goes back and turns off the light. When he returns, you're nothing but a dark lump beside him.
"That's okay," he says, "You can sleep however the hell you want."
Your silhouette stays still.
"Sometimes I wake up crying," you say. "Or kicking, or just remembering something I shouldn't."
"Remembering what?"
The click of the fan overtakes everything again as you lay there, pulling in even breaths. A moment passes, then another and another. You're silent for too long, long enough that he thinks you've fallen asleep. Just as he's about to give up, you sigh out a winding breath.
"He was a hero," you whisper. "I felt special when he paid attention to me."
A chill he can't place creeps up his spine. He wants to ask what that means, why you're telling him this, but nothing comes out when he opens his mouth. He has to swallow, then cleae his throat.
"Did-?" His voice crackles. "Did someone hurt you?"
Again, you're silent.
"Who?" This time, when you don't respond, he presses. "Fucking who?"
"Someone who retired a long, long time ago."
"Give me a name and I'll fucking-"
"Katsuki."
"Someone raped you."
He had to say it out loud and dispel the mystery behind it. It's selfish, brash, but he needed it- just as he needs this hand around you, holding, cradling-
"That's what happens when you're just a girl." You clutch at his forearm with a want that isn't present in your voice. "People hurt you."
The bite of your nails surprises him.
"It's safer to be something else."
It's his turn to be quiet.