War Paint | Masterlist

Someone New Masterlist

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

[ nsfw ] — role-play (and a smidge of dub-con in said role) but it's silly ; insecure bakugou bc it makes me feral.

[ disclaimer ] — i'm sure this goes without saying, but this is based on my own personal interpretation of bakugou and not meant to insult or offend. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[ word count ] — 3.9k ; this was just supposed to be short and silly idk what happened LOL

katsuki is shy.

as soon as he sees you — rushing out from the kitchen, grabbing the laundry basket that's been filled with some of his things — his face is already turning pink. blush growing, just like his scowl.

he doesn't say anything at first, just eyes your jumpsuit and your boots and little mask, and then his work bag hits the floor with a resounding thud. "the fuck are y'doin'?"

"oh, no!" you cry dramatically, pressing a hand to your forehead as you look down in the basket — which holds two of his watches and a pair of shoes gifted from his mom and even a few of the nicer necklaces he's bought you over the years. "pro-hero dynamight has caught me!"

and then he knows exactly what you're up to.

still, he says nothing, even though you wait to see if he'll play along, grinning all the while. under your gaze, he shifts awkwardly, screwing up his lips as he tries to ignore the low cut of your outfit, swallowing when you push your boobs together with your arms.

"i better get out of here," you say loudly, as if he hadn't heard you. "i don't want such a big, strong hero to arrest me!"

the temperature of his face rises, but your corny line has his attitude returning with a vengeance. "what are you doing?"

a streak of insecurity runs through you, but you grit your teeth together, steeling yourself so that it doesn't show. you don't miss the subtle way he tries to wipe his hands on his sweatpants or how secretly he tries to tug at them — and that gives you all the confirmation that you need.

your boyfriend is a big pervert, and you're determined to prove it.

(last week, katsuki was on night patrol and had gone into the agency around 7pm. the shirt he grabbed had been the wrong one, a black sleeveless tank with a giant tear in the side that he had yet to sew up, and he'd called to ask if you could bring him a new one.

sure, no problem; when you got to his office, he'd been sitting at his desk in just his tac pants and boots, scrolling through mindless paperwork while waiting and he'd looked — really good. you see him without a shirt all the time, but mostly he's in sweatpants or fresh out of the shower, and there was something about seeing him so geared up and ready to go that struck you differently.

you don't often watch the replays on tv of his work because it scares you, but to witness him as dynamight —

it had you feeling mischievous, suffice to say.

you sat quietly on his desk, watching him close out of his computer, smiling to yourself as he logged off. he thanked you for the shirt with a kiss to the cheek and then he expected you to head home; you could see it in his eyes, watching you — a little wary — as he fiddled with the material in his hands.

"there's, like, nobody in here."

katsuki shrugged, little kissable pout on his lips. "s'almost 8, everyone's at home."

you hummed, turning around to stare out his open office, down the long line of sleeping monitors in their cubicles. "we could have sex in here and nobody would know."

it made him choke, and he stepped back from you to cough into his fist before looking at you with wide eyes. "what?"

of course, it was his reaction at that point that had you feeling wicked. "c'mon, you got 10 minutes?'

his eyes danced to every corner of the room, cheeks flushing in the low light from his desk lamp, before he leaned to look out the door, too. checking, you think.

"i—what? no, i-i don't. pinky's waitin' for me out there."

you were only being cheeky—at least mostly—so you'd simply stuck your tongue out at him and shrugged. "okay, fine." and then he sighed, like he'd narrowly gotten away from something, before leaning back to shove his hands in his pants. you grinned, watching as he adjusted himself. "i mean, i can be quick, if you want."

"shut. up." he hissed, and it wasn't until he removed his hand that you realized exactly how hard he was, palming at his bulge roughly, as if he could smash it down until it was gone.

just from that. just from the suggestion of fucking on his desk. you laughed and he glared and then kicked you out, after a furious kiss that was firmer than usual.)

katsuki is very — particular about sex. something he likes to take his time with, despite being lightning quick about everything else in his life. it's only in the last year that he's allowed himself to be a little more vocal in bed, moaning openly against your skin, telling you how good you feel in his quiet, broken little voice.

as far as kirishima lets on, this is his longest relationship and, even though he's surely not a virgin, you wonder if he's ever really been comfortable with himself sexually. he's got an absurd amount of testosterone raging through his body at all times, but he always acts so unsure, like he's worried he'll do something to embarrass himself; you're determined to free him from that fear.

and — seeing him get worked up over you is half the fun, anyway.

you carefully set the laundry basket down — which also holds an older model of his left gauntlet — before moving like you're going to run right out the front door, only to unfortunately stumble straight into him.

"oh, no!" you say again, hands flat against his chest as you sink into him. "please don't arrest me dynamight, i'll do anything."

his throat works hard, eyes jumping between your face and the front of your tiny jumpsuit, which is unzipping the more you arch your back and push against it. he rasps, "what is this?"

you pout at him before dropping straight down to your knees, twirling the string of his sweatpants around your finger as he gapes at you. "i'm a horrible, horrible villain," you explain, "and we've been playing this little cat-and-mouse game for too long! and you've been chasing after me for months and now you've caught me here in the solitude of your own home and, much to your surprise," you unzip the rest of the top for emphasis, smiling when he slumps back against the front door. "i'm a woman!"

katsuki is — still speechless, though you can see the gears turning in his head as you nuzzle against the swelling bulge in his soft sweatpants, mouthing at his tip through the thick material.

"i'll do anything, dynamight, sir." you goad, and you wait and he's not breathing, just furrowing his brows down at you. you try not to make a face at him and purposely cup him through his pants, hard.

it makes him nearly jump out of his skin. "wh-what's with—the fuckin' getup?"

you slump, leaning your cheek against his thigh to pout up at him some more. "i got it at the costume store, baby, but that's not..."

the cool, air-conditioned breeze is nipping at your exposed skin the longer you sit in front of him like this and it's chasing away all the sultry confidence you had before he came home.

it's not even like you actually think katsuki's a pervert, you just want him to be kinky without being ashamed of it, and, much as you want to fix that now, maybe you're going about this the wrong way. maybe this is something you two need to sit down and talk about. maybe there is something he's not telling you, on purpose.

he stares straight ahead, mouth open like he's waiting for his words to come out, and you watch as a bead of sweat slips from his hairline down to his jaw before hiding your face in his leg and groaning quietly; you're not mad, just a little embarrassed that you thought this is what would work on him.

"okay, okay," you say, standing back up to re-zip your suit. "i'm done, sorry for ambushing you."

his eyes snap to yours, though he's still quiet, and he eventually closes his mouth, gritting his jaw so hard that his ears wiggle once. you plant a kiss on him, quick and dry, before turning to head back to your room so you can change, pulling the cheap eye-mask over your head. the string catches against your head and snaps you once, and you mumble a quiet ow before reaching for the door knob.

very carefully, you feel katsuki's fingers dance over your waist, and he reaffirms his grip after you pause. he pushes you forward flat against the wood gently, not at all how he would to a real villain, and then he buries his face in your neck, hot breath coming quick as if he'd been running.

you try not to smile because the curve of your cheeks will give you away, and so you stay quiet, waiting. you feel him breath in hard through his nose, grunting once before speaking.

"where...d'y'think you're goin'?"

his ears are burning into your skin, but when you roll your hips back against him, he reciprocates, fingers tightening as he pins you firmly to the door.

you try again. "are you going to arrest me, dynamight?"

"uh," katsuki breathes, pulling his head back to look behind him towards his bag. "i, uh," his hesitation is so endearing that you can't help but to grin, "i've only got, um, zipties in—"

"ow!" you squeal, arching into him, though the sound makes him jump back a step. with the new space, you twist your arms around your back, grabbing your own wrists in a false bind. "please be gentle with me, sir!"

he huffs, shaky, before purposely grinding his hard length against your ass. one of his hands curls around both of your own, firm in keeping you "caught", while his other goes to grab at the fat of your hips.

his breath warms behind your ear again and he nips at your neck once. "uh...the hell're you doin' in my house?"

you're happy and so you want to laugh, but you know he'll take it the wrong way, especially as nervous as he seems. instead you struggle in his hands, hardly serious, rubbing against him until he huffs again.

"i'll never tell you!"

"well, then," his arm slips fully around your waist, resting for a moment against the doorknob before turning it. "i'll—fuckin' make you."

you gasp loudly, spinning to back into the room until your knees hit the bed, collapsing down and trapping your hands beneath yourself. "you can't do this!" you struggle some more, wiggling your hips and straining against the tight jumpsuit so it'll start to force open again. "you have to let me go!"

katsuki is clearly at a loss, stepping up to the bed as he half-shrugs, uncertain. "no."

you smile despite yourself and it turns his face beet red, but you quickly school your expression back into fake shock. "i'll scream."

what you want him to say is something along the lines of, oh yeah baby i'll make you scream, but that is — simply not him, and you think he's not breathing again, just watching the zipper of your suit as it slowly struggles. it's so cheap and poorly made, you're surprised it hasn't broken yet.

you arch up at little, finding your mask sitting on the floor by the door, and you exaggerate a moan. "my identity," you whimper, making big, sad eyes at him. "i've been discovered."

katsuki shuffles again, glancing at the floor before bending to pick up the tacky thing. you hadn't meant for him to get it for you, but he tugs at it before coming closer, kneeling on the bed so he can pull it over your head.

as if, maybe he wants you to wear it.

you feel a little zing up your spine, wrapping your legs around his waist when he adjusts the string so it's more comfortable for you. his eyes go wide, hips falling forward until he's brushing against your core by accident, leaving you both a little breathless.

whatever patience you'd had before is whisked away when you feel how turned on he is, once your underwear clings against your skin with how wet you've unknowingly become.

"i bet you've been thinking about this," you whisper, heady, as you slowly grind up against him. "tying me up, all to yourself."

a sharp exhale leaves him, though he tries to close his mouth around it, cheeks burning as he struggles to maintain eye contact with you. "i-i thought—"

you nod, encouraging him with a breathy, "uh-huh?"

"i thought i didn't know you were a chick until now."

you stop, head dropping back to the bed as you stare at him.

well. shit. you did say that.

you shake your head, sighing when one of his hands closes around your hip to keep you moving. "okay, pretend you already knew." he nods his head, a little vigorously, before pressing you into the mattress, grinding against you with purpose now. the pressure is good enough that you feel your eyes lidding, a dull throb building where you're most sensitive. "i bet you've been thinking about punishing me all by yourself, dynamight."

it makes his face and neck burn, and katsuki has to squeeze his eyes shut once before dropping his elbows to the bed and leaning just barely over your lips. "yeah," is all he says, voice wavering.

you lean up to brush your nose against his, but you don't kiss him. "and how're you gonna do that?" he angles his hips, deliberately catching your clit when he ruts against you, and it draws the first, genuine moan from your lips. you think he can tell, because he grits his teeth and does it over and over. "are you gonna fuck me or what?"

katsuki just nods, quickly sitting back up on his knees so he can pull his shirt up over his head. it reminds you of what started this mission in the first place and you take in the sight of him, muscles taut with anticipation, his adonis belt that stems into the low band of his sweats.

"i've been thinking about it, too," you say, dragging your eyes up his body slow, so that he can watch your appreciation, "because you're so big and strong and power—"

he cuts you off with a firm kiss, digging a hand into your hair so that he can slant your head. when you gasp at the tug on your scalp, katsuki swirls his tongue with yours, slow and sweet, eliciting another soft moan that has him breathing in hard through his nose.

"damn woman," he grunts, sitting back up to yank at the zipper on your suit, cheeks burning when he eyes your lazy grin. "tryin' to fuckin' kill me."

you laugh. "on the contrary, dynamight, i'm actually—" katsuki pulls you into a sitting position, tugging your suit back over your shoulders until it hits your elbows.

and then you both look at each other.

"um," you swivel on the mattress just a bit, thinking; maybe wearing a one-piece jumpsuit wasn't a great idea, when being "bound" is involved, or you should have at least waited until he got you naked. "let's just pretend—"

"yeah, yeah," katsuki nods, scratching his head as you unwind your arms quickly and slip them through the sleeves, falling back over your hands as he tugs the whole thing down your thighs. your boots are still on, but he doesn't bother with those, just ducks under the bridge of clothing until he's against you again.

you squirm in your tiny, mesh underwear, a gasp echoing out of you when he mouths at the skin below your belly button, moving lower and lower until his tongue is meeting the thin material that separates you. this — wasn't part of the plan; you were expecting him to just shove his pants down and bully his way inside of you, which was fine for this scenario, but the wet glide of his tongue has you forgetting about everything except for how hot he's making you.

your back arches as the material begins to saturate — both from you and him — and you moan, growing needy for more; his mouth on you feels amazing as always, but your underwear, the partition between you, are already starting to grate on your nerves. katsuki must know because he can read you so well, and he hooks his fingers around the thin mesh before yanking that out of his way, too.

"fuck," you gasp, hips jerking when his tongue swipes against your swollen bud, and you let out another whiny noise when he closes his lips around it. you feel — soaked, but gilded, trying to catch the breath he keeps pulling from you.

both his hands come up to stroke over your hip bones, holding you down as you tremble, pulling you close so that his nose drags against you, too. the added pressure makes you shudder and your head falls back to the mattress as his messy kiss coils something tighter and tighter in your belly.

"katsuki," you moan, wanton, and rip your hand from underneath your back to fist a handful of his hair, legs closing around his head as his tongue slips inside of you. "fuck, 'm—"

the strain against his scalp makes him groan, open-mouthed, and you try to remind yourself to take note of that, but the vibration of the sound leaves you quivering. your hips move of their own accord, bucking up against the flat of his tongue as you feel the warmth dripping down your spine, as your toes begin to curl, as your mind goes blank.

and then he's pulling away from you all too soon, surging up to plant a wet, heady kiss to your lips, to share the essence that's still sweet in his mouth. he's panting into you, one of his hands palming roughly at your breast while the other reaches back to rip one of your boots off.

you maybe shouldn't have tied them so seriously, because it takes him a few horrible moments before he can get the laces loose enough to tug off your foot, pulling the rest of the jumpsuit down one leg.

"you're," he breathes, hands going back to your hips to grip them firmly. "supposed to be tied up."

katsuki flips you onto your stomach, pulling you to the edge of the bed, on your knees so that he can run a hand up your back. gently, he toys with you; testing different pressures around your neck, tugging at your hair again, wrapping his hand back around both your own.

when you feel the thick weight of him tap against your swollen slit, you cry out softly into the mattress, wiggling your hips back with all your impatience. he runs his length against you, coating himself before teasing at your entrance, and then he hesitates again; as if he's trying to say something, you hear the open and close of his mouth several times before he just swallows, shaking his head before he begins to sink into you.

the stretch has your eyes rolling back in your head, mouth falling open silently as his strained groan fills the room. the sound is music to your ears, and you could almost laugh at how worried you were before all this — if he wasn't seating himself so deep inside of you, making you moan against the sheets.

katsuki hisses out a string of curse words, free hand going to the dip of your waist to pull you back to meet his rough and unsteady thrusts. there's almost no rhythm and he seems to lose it as soon as he finds it, and that paired with how roughly he's breathing is enough to send you over the edge.

it's like he's — desperate, too frenzied to think straight.

you try to muffle your embarrassing whine into the mattress as your thighs shake, as he continuously hits that spot inside of you that brings tears to your eyes. it doesn't deter him in the slightest, only encourages him to fuck you through your orgasm as you scramble a bit on your knees, overwhelmed by the sounds the both of you are making.

it dawns on you distantly, as you come through the haze, that he's actually enjoying this, keeping a firm grip around your hands so that you can't escape. you feel euphoric, elevated to a new high as all your nerves sing.

your throat is dry and you have to swallow several times before you can speak, stuttering, from how hard he's pounding into you. "d'you like this? fucking the—oh—villain you've caught?"

it makes him still, just for a moment, as he runs his hand up your back again, adding pressure just between your shoulder blades and groaning before returning to your hip. "i think you, hah, fuckin' like this," katsuki breathes, grip tightening to a painful degree before he slams into you again, making your toes curl. "getting f-fucked by the hero."

hearing him play along makes your stomach flip, has a drizzle of warm honey spreading up your spine, just like before, as you squirm again under his hands. you feel warm, almost numb to anything except for the weight of him behind you, the pleasure that never stops throbbing between your legs.

you squeal when he angles himself particularly deep, though the sound is nearly drowned entirely out by his groan, the low oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck he chants as his body goes taut and curls over yours. his thrusts grow shallow but never stop, as he cums so hard it almost sounds painful, and he finally takes his hand from both of yours to steady himself against the bed.

you both groan when he pulls out, katsuki falling down beside you on the mattress to catch his breath and blink slowly at the ceiling. he's so red, sweaty and worn out, and you watch him through bleary eyes for a long moment before realizing that he's purposely not looking at you.

it makes you laugh, light and lilted — which screws his face up — as you slump forward, eyes lidding as exhaustion coats you in a thin sheen.

"you're a pervert," katsuki finally mumbles, pushing his hair off his forehead before rubbing his eyes. when you laugh again, he glares at you, but doesn't move away as you shimmy closer.

"what can i say? i'm no match for big and strong dynamight—"

"cut that shit out," he groans, rolling over to bite at your cheek, bearing his weight down on you when you squeal.

"i'll never commit a crime again," you squirm when he pinches at your side, trying to hold on to your words through a fit of giggles. "your incredible hero cock has turned me—"

"you fucking—" he's quick to lean back and flip you over, cradling your face in his hands as he smashes his lips to yours — almost too eagerly.

"katsuki!" you shriek, wiggling beneath him helplessly as he tickles you. he pays you no mind, just continues trying to press kisses into your open mouth until tears are sprouting at your waterline from laughing so hard.

finally, you get reprieve as his hands slip up your body slowly, taking your wrists between his fingers so he can hold them together above your head. he presses his forehead to yours, eyes lidded and relaxed, with the ghost of a smirk on his face, and he murmurs, "it's dynamight to you, missy."

“𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐦𝐞…”

Part 1 | Dabi x fem!Reader

CW: yandere themes, some mentions of noncon, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping, complicated feelings, stockholm syndrome (?), this part contains only reader’s memories.

SYNOPSIS: you are finally saved from the hands of your captor, who was now locked up, far away from you. But to this day, the memory of him still haunts you in your dreams, still so present in your life, still reminding you that you are his girl.

Part 2 / REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

“Baby..come to me”

“.. don’t leave me waiting”

“Pretty girl~”

“Wherever you are, I will come find you”

You awoke with a jolt, sweat dripping down your face. Your own heartbeats filled your ears, almost pumping out of your ribcage, as the voices you were hearing faded into the distance. Trembling, you pulled yourself out of the bed to grab a glass of water, your throat dry and sore. As the coldness of the water shook the tense feeling off your body and gave you some clarity, you took in a deep breath, calming yourself down from whatever nightmare, or sleep paralysis you had. Your eyes wandered around your apartment, at every corner and every furniture.

“You are alone” you whispered to yourself, repeating the words over and over. “You’re alone and safe. Nobody is here, nothing can harm you”

Nothing can harm you anymore.

It had been a year since since everything changed, since you finally managed to escape the claws of your captor, your lover. And yet you still get haunted by those events, still afraid of the darkness, often having panic attacks and anxiety hitting through the roof whenever you are alone. Paranoia was part of your life, to the point you had to consult with a professional and get help. Everywhere, at any time, you felt like you were being watched. But nobody was there.

Not anymore.

“I am safe” you repeated once again. “Nobody is there. It’s all in my head. Everything is okay. He is not here anymore”

Those piercing blue eyes that almost glowed in the darkness were not watching you anymore. Those eyes that could burn you just by looking at them, making you feel smaller and smaller, afraid to even move an inch as they studied you, devoured your appearance from head to toe.

“A sight for sore eyes” he would always say, his hand coming to grab at your chin, gently, making you look at him. And there it was again, a sly grin plastered on his scarred face, a grin that held nothing but danger. You knew just in that moment how much he wanted to hurt you. It made him feel good he said, the way tears rolled down your cheeks whenever he marked your body, the way you were so weak beneath him and broke so beautifully. The more you screamed, the more he hurt you. And as he hurt you, he would whisper sweet nothings in your ear, kiss your face so gently while his hand gripped your thigh and left a nasty burn mark. He would kiss your forehead and shush you, while he rammed inside you so ruthlessly, tearing you apart. He would lick off your tears and tell you how pretty you were as he took every inch of your body.

“P-Please… I-I can’t do this anymore!” the memories came back in your mind, clear as day, one of the many horrible things you had to endure from his hands.

“Hold on a bit longer for me baby..” he growled, his eyes rolling back in pure bliss. “Ngh-Jus’a bit longer..”

“N-No that’s enough!” you whined in desperation. “Stop it..”

Stop it Dabi.

Dabi.

Even the memory of his name made your skin crawl and your hands sweating, you couldn’t even say it outloud anymore. Because the only times you said it outloud were when you were begging for him to stop, to not hurt you anymore, to let you go.

And each time, he always replied by saying how good his name sounds rolling down that pretty tongue of yours, say it again, a bit louder this time for him.

“Dabi..” you whispered, not even aware that you said his name, completely lost in your memories as he ordered you to repeat his name again. You brought your hand on your mouth, realising what you just did.

You were alone in the living room, far far away from his reach and yet he still had a great impact in your life, as if he was still living with you everyday. You could still hear his voice in your dreams, you could see his shadow lurking, his tall figure towering over you, the scent of burned flesh lingering around.

It had been a year since he got locked away in Tartarus, a prison for high ranked villains which was said to be worse than hell itself. Though that had little to no impact on the devil.

You used to call him that, an evil man beyond words, how much you hated him, and yet..

Yet he made you believe that he was your true love. That no other person in this world could ever make you feel this way, fear, arousement, passion, warmth all at once. To Dabi, you were his goddess, the light of his life, as he used to say, the prettiest girl in the world, only for him to use. You were the cure to his heart, if he ever had one, your touch made his burnt scars feel less painful, it made all the pain go away. Your voice, your moans, your cries and your laughter were music to his ears, he wanted all of them. Dabi wanted all of you. He wanted you at your best, he wanted you at your worst, he wanted you broken, only for him to fix you as he pleased.

“You’re mine” Dabi would say, a possessive grip on your waist as he brought you closer to himself. “Don’t ever forget that. Even if we are far apart, even if years go by, you are forever mine princess..”

You gulped while remembering his words, those words he would always repeat until they were engraved in your brain.

He was locked away, with no chance of ever coming out of there, everything between you both had ended, you were a free bird.

And deep down you still felt his. You were afraid to not be his. You were afraid of what would become of you if you weren’t Dabi’s girl. Because you had forgotten who you were before him. He made sure of it. You could never be a normal functioning human being. He turned your brain into mush, designed you just the way he wanted to, to the point that no matter how much you hated him, your desire for him kept growing stronger.

You hated him. And you hated that you missed him. You should’ve been happy, this was what you always dreamed of, right? You always wished for him to just die, to disappear, you wished to be free. And now you were free.

And empty.

Was he really your true love?

“Tell me that you love me..” he grunted, sweat dripping down his chest as he continued to thrust in and out of you, your cunt greedily swallowing every inch of his cock.

“I-I love you..” you whimpered.

“Louder” he ordered, giving you one harsh thrust that made you yelp. “C’mon!”

“Love you. I love you, Dabi. I love y-you…nmmmhf I love you!”

And it did feel like love for a moment. When he kissed you through your orgasm, saying that you’re doing so well, both your bodies sticky and sweaty as you held into one another. As you fell asleep in his arms while he caressed your hair. It all felt good, it made you forget that in reality you were actually his captive.

You were cut off from the outside world, your friends, family, work colleagues, nobody could get in touch with you anymore. Dabi created a new world for you, and in this new world of yours he would be the only person in your life. Nobody was ever that worthy of you, he got rid of anything and anyone that got in his way.

“It’s not safe for ya out there baby..” he would tell you. “The world is ugly, and it can hurt you, just the way it hurt me. Just the way it hurt all of us that society calls villains today.. but I won’t allow it. Don’t you realise how much I am protecting you?”

He made you believe that you were much safer with him, yet he was the only one to hurt you. But he made that clear as well.

“You are not protecting me! You are hurting me!” you screamed at him while he had you tied down on the bed after another failed attempt of yours to escape and run away.

“Didn’t I tell you princess? I’ll protect you from everyone, except me..” Dabi smirked at your teary face. “I am the only one to love on you, the only one to hurt you and make you cry, the only one to break you. Nobody else. You were just made for me, dollface..”

You went back to bed, trying to make those memories fade away and fall asleep. Little did you know that tomorrow morning, another letter would arrive at your doorstep. The pile was slowly growing. You didn’t throw them, nor did you open to read them. They stayed in the box, unopened, you were terrified of what the letters would contain.

Letters from Tartarus.

It was clear, he never gave up on you. To this day, he would send you letters from time to time. You had the opportunity to call the prison and make it all stop of course, so he would never send you any letters again.

But you didn’t. You wished he would stop, and yet you couldn’t make him stop. It’s like one part of you wanted him, found comfort at the fact that you were not alone, that you still were his girl. And that very same fact made you throw up as well, you hated it so much.

What’s wrong with me, you wondered.

“Nothing’s wrong with you princess, you just miss me that’s all..” you could hear his voice answering in your head, amusement in his tone.

Maybe if you read all his letters it will go away, this feeling would disappear. Read them and then burn them. And then cut off contact for good. He won’t haunt you anymore, right? He can’t get out of there.

Dabi definitely will get out of there. And he won’t be pleased knowing that you have ignored him all this time. What will you do then? How will you explain yourself to him?

“Tomorrow morning I will read them” you whispered to yourself. For now, you decided to empty your head from all the dark thoughts and just go back to sleep.

During the same time, far away, to the heavy guarded area of Tartarus, he sat there on his cell, his eyes glued to the door, waiting. Patiently waiting, contemplating, while his fingers fixed each of the staples decorating his hand.

Finally a guard passed by, stopping right in front of the cell. Dabi stood up, approaching the door, peeking through the small hole to look at the guard’s face.

“So..” Dabi spoke. “Got anything f’me?”

“Nothing” the guard replied. “I looked through all the letters the prisoners received, though none of it was sent to you nor had your name. You sure your girlfriend hasn’t ditched you? You’ve been sending letters for a while and yet no reply”

Dabi chuckled, turning away and ignoring the guard’s words. “She’ll come around, little angel is just nervous..” he whispered to himself.

“Hey” the guard called him again. “Ya sure you don’t want one of us to check on her?”

The guard was in fact one of the PLF’s men, surely on Dabi’s side, making sure to check on him until the escape plan is executed.

“Send one of our people on her way” Dabi said. “Just to notify her that I’m looking forward to our reunion soon~”

🏷️ tagging some of the people who were interested in this fic + people from my taglist: @baby-tini @hunajan @touyalove @irinangels @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @murderous-snail @holydayaria @cherryflavoredkisses @syrenkitsune @mossy-opal @dabislittlebeaniebaby

hiiii! I’ve been in such a funk since I lost my wips 🥲 but it feels good to be writing again! Thank you all for 700 followers 🥹🫶🏾 it’s crazy cause I was just celebrating 500! 

Also, I’m obsessed with this tiny font :)

Warnings: smut, dilf bakugo, milf reader, afab reader, black coded! reader, mutual pining, baby mentioned, breast feeding mentioned, unprotected sex, creampie, lactation kink, pet name usage (ex. baby, mama, papa), excuse any mistakes, MDNI!

Word count: undetermined

❀

Babydaddy!Bakugo who's stopping by to pick up his son Katsumi from your place. He scans the vicinity, still as quiet as usual but he does notice someone’s finally moved into the townhouse adjacent to yours. 

He’s not sure if it’s a man or woman, and he’s not comfortable with it, especially since it’s just you and ‘Sumi here. He made a note to get someone at the agency to check them out.

He’s standing there for about a minute until you’re opening up the door with the baby attached to your tit in a tight fitting sun dress, just begging him to run his hands all over you. He’s undressing you with his eyes, not that the dress leaves anything to imagine anyway.

“Come on so you don’t let any flies in. He was fussing real bad so l'm feeding him, I'll be done in a second."

He just nods, it's all he can do as he stares, mesmerized. He doesn’t mind anyway, he isn’t in any kind of rush.

It never gets old—seeing you be a mommy. Seeing you care for the beautiful being the two of you created. Makes him fall in love with you all over again. It’s also a bonus being able to call you a milf.

He hands you a vanilla parfait from the cafe he gets his coffee from, remembers you used to love them before ‘Sumi, hopes you still do.

“Thank you.”

You didn’t have much of an appetite, taste testing your different dishes in the midst of preparing Sunday dinner has you a little full so you opt for picking the fruit off your parfait.

“No problem, you’re running a dairy farm over here, gotta keep ya fed.” “Are you calling me a cow?” 

“I’m not wrong.” 

Your kid has one breast occupied, the other is stuffed in the electric pump. You’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to being ‘milked’ as Katsuki usually calls it, but it certainly feels better than letting the milk swell inside. 

It’s safe to say you got this parenting thing down fairly quickly, or at least it seemed like you did. Time moved fast, your baby nearing six months already. He doesn't see much of you anymore, just those days when it's time for him to get the little brat or drop him back off.

He's not sure how things got the way they were—seems like just yesterday you were about to be his wife and now, things were just complicated. The two of you were high school sweethearts, first everything’s, now well into your late twenties with a baby. There was no infidelity involved in the split, just a matter of you two not seeing eye to eye, butting heads far too often for comfort. He admits it’s his fault, but he truly meant no harm, just wanted to protect his family.

But, he still loves the hell out of you. Hopes you still love him too. And even if you don't, he'll still love you. You gave him his child, after all.

That little boy is his pride and joy. He's the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes on, a chunky little nugget with rolls everywhere and now he has a double chin. Obviously didn’t miss any meals.

Katsumi's the perfect mix of the two of you. His complexion has settled as the months passed by, darkening to a deep golden tan, a head full of thick curly hair and of course his daddy's angry red eyes and ever present scowl. He looks like a mean little shit just like his daddy did at his age, except he's literally the sweetest baby, always ready to show those two little teeth in a big smile.

He can't believe he helped create something so precious and most of all he can't believe he created him with you.

“You haven't been sleeping much lately, I can tell." 

Time apart didn’t change much, you still knew him like the back of your hand and vice

Babydaddy!Bakugo finds himself seated in one of your bar stools, looking around at your home. 

It looks like you’re almost done decorating, and you actually did get that dumb couch you’d been raving about. He takes in the shades of green and cream, the earthy tones accented in,  the plants, fluorescent lighting, it’s all so you.

He loves it. Wishes he lived in it with you. Fuck he missed you so bad.

"Schedule change. I work a week on-week off now." Truth is, he hasn’t had a good rest since you left, on top of his new crazy ass schedule he’d be lucky if he got three consecutive hours of sleep a night. And some nights when he had ‘Sumi, he had to forgo sleep completely. 

“Damn, that’s a lot. It’s not too much for you? What if you’re too tired for ‘Sumi, he’s rolling over and shit now so you really gotta watch him.” 

“Yeah yeah, I’ve been a baby y/n, I know what babies do.” 

“Don’t piss me off, that’s not even the same thing.” You take a jab at the side of his head with your finger. “I’m just saying, he’s real active now, I catch him trying to do backflips off the bed at least ten times a day.” 

You feel his sucking on your breast slowing, signs that he’s done with his feeding. 

“I hear ya, y/n. I‘m not gonna let him crack his skull open on my watch.” 

“Good, best daddy ever.” You roll your eyes playfully but you mean your words wholeheartedly. Regardless of the situation between you two, Katsuki was so helpful and supportive now that ‘Sumi was actually here, and he made this co-parenting thing so much easier than you thought it’d be. 

Katsumi pulls away from you, easing his head away until your nipple is no longer in his mouth. He hears Katsuki but he can’t see him, tossing his head back and moving it side to side until he finally lays eyes on his daddy. 

One of his tiny hands is clinging to the thin strap of your dress while the other makes grabbies at Katsuki.

“You wanna come to Papa?” He asks, the big grin on his face is so precious. 

Bakugo washes his hands with cold water, drying them off before he gently grabs him from you, laying him over his shoulder to burp him. He catches the little bit he spit up with the bib, and hands it to you to swap for a clean one. 

He sits Katsumi on the counter, pretending to punch him with his own little fists and it sends him into a fit of giggles and screams. 

"You got anything going on today?" You’re leaned against the counter, just watching the two of them. It brings a smile to your face, one you quickly drop before he could realize it cause it almost feels wrong to enjoy it. 

"Nah, mom wants to see em' so we're gonna head over. That's all though, you?"

“Nothing today, but I’m going clothes shopping for ‘Sumi soon, tomorrow or Tuesday.”  

“Yeah? Already?”

You nod your head as you lift the lids on your pots, stirring one more time before turning the burners off. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think he’d be growing out of all his stuff so damn soon. I was thinking we could pick out some of the neutral stuff for Denki and Jirou. Donate the rest to the hospital.”

Now that he’s really looking at it, the onesie is a little tighter around his thighs. His baby boy is growing so fast it almost brings tears to his eyes. Soon enough he’ll be crawling, then walking and then college—he couldn’t even fathom the thought of his little nugget going to college! 

He disregards his manic thoughts when he hears your voice again. “Maybe we can go together..you can hold the bags like you used to…if you want to, and if you have time, of course.” 

“Of course I do, I’ll make time.”

You’re shocked at his enthusiasm because this couldn’t be the same man who’d ‘rather take a slug from Kirishima than get stuck shopping with you.’ 

But who could blame him, coming home to an empty house for the past couple of months had him going damn near insane. He was craving any kind of contact with you. 

Babydaddy!Bakugo who just can't resist your cooking, especially when it meant being in your presence even longer than usual. Now standing at your kitchen island eating the hefty plate you made him, watching you wrap the ones you’re giving him to go for him and his parents. Next you’re tidying up the area and putting the rest of the food up in tupperware bowls.

He's stalking your every move, watching you like a hawk. Like prey. And don't think for one second that he doesn't notice the way your dress gets stuck in between the cheeks of your ass when you bend down to put your clean pots and pans in the cabinet.

He thinks you’re teasing, bets you’re not even wearing panties. Maybe you're innocent, but either way he takes the bait, pressing his crotch against your ass while you’re still bent. 

“Katsuki.” You try to keep your voice stern but it doesn’t phase the crimson eyed devil behind you. 

“Y/N.” He says your name back just as serious, but you can hear it, the lust oozing from his tongue. It sends chills down your entire being as he rubs up against you, and god you hate being so weak.

Babydaddy!Bakugo who should've only been there to pick up his kid, but instead has you in his lap, palms planted on the round globes of your ass while you’re bouncing on his cock like your life depended on it.

It’s hard to keep a steady pace when he’s lifting you and dropping you back down so hard and fast. You're forced to bite your lip to keep your moans at bay, your son just a few feet away, sleeping in his swing.

“Kid can sleep through an earthquake, lemme hear that pretty voice."

Babydaddy!Bakugo who's still the hot headed idiot he's always been, is only gonna tell you one time. Gives you about a minute or so before he's holding you taut, bucking his hips up into you with the meanest, most devilish grin on his face.

ow you're whining and moaning like an absolute slut.

It makes his dick throb and his balls tighten, pussy clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, I miss hearing those sexy sounds."

He's licking and sucking on your nipple, squeezing and kneading until he's tasting that sweet liquid gold coating his taste buds.

"St-stopppp." You're whining and pushing at his head, doing nothing but egging him on. “You're wasting it."

"Nah, Papa's gonna drink it all up." He’s holding you tight, licking at the white beads that dribble from your nipple and fucking up into you so good you start to see spots of white in your vision. He feels the way you go rigid in his arms, the first syllable of his name stuck in your throat, and he knows you’re cumming for him. He doesn’t stop—his strong hips keep bouncing your stiffened figure like you weigh nothing, fucking you through your first orgasm.

Your pussy leaves him coated in your milky white cream, still dribbling onto his lap when he lifts you off.

“Made a mess of me.” 

You’re nodding like he asked you a question, it makes him chuckle. “I’m sorry.” 

He surely doesn’t mind, especially not with the way he swipes his two fingers through the folds of your cunt, gathering more of that creamy wetness on his hand to stroke at his cock. The loud squelch of his hand rubbing up and down, using it like a lubricant and coating himself in your essence, your scent. It all should’ve been disgusting. Lewd and indecent. 

Except it wasn’t. 

If anything it turned you on more, an indirect laying of claim, reminding you that he was still yours. God knows you shouldn’t be having those kind of thoughts, not until you two have reached a common ground, but Katsuki knew every which way to push your buttons. 

He’s got you on your back now, panting like a dog as he drills your cunt with remnants of your milk trailing down the bottom of his chin. 

A hand between your thighs and thumb strumming at your clit while he fucked you had you in a trance. Eyes rolled into the back of your head and your plump bottom lip pulled tightly between your lips. The sheer force and friction of every thrust has your bonnet slipping and sliding until the luscious jet black locks of your wig are free. Fuck it’s so long and pretty and you look like a fucking goddess underneath him. He wishes he could have you like this all day, everyday.

He's not letting up, both of those big hands of his now palming at the back of your thighs as he pushes them flat against the couch, pounding you to oblivion, digging you out like this might be the last time. You pray it's not the last time. You also pray your couch comes clean, he's got your pussy gushing, dripping all over your sage colored cushions.

Katsuki sees your eyes trailing over to Katsumi, the swing is still going, you wonder how long he set the timer for.

"Eyes on me baby, he's good. I promise."

He is. Mouth slightly open and he’s snoring a little, still sleeping like the little cherub he is while his daddy bullies your cunt, fucking you like he hates your guts.

"Just focus on me." He's peppering kisses all over you in between his speaking. "I know you miss me fucking you. Tell me how much you miss this dick."

It's been almost five months since you've been fucked like this, or fucked at all for that matter. 

"So so much! Miss you so much papa." You’re pulling his face down towards yours, pressing your lips together, legs wrapped around his waist. This scene probably resembles the one that got you pregnant in the first place.

"Yeah? Talk to me, mama.” He hopes you mean it. Prays it isn't just cock-drunk babbling cus he misses you too. So fucking much.

"Yeahh.” Your brows are scrunched together as you nod furiously. “I haven't fucked nobody else. This pussy's still yours baby."

God he misses you like this, so cock-drunk and cute.

He leans in to kiss you again, tongues fighting for dominance against each other’s. “Haven’t fucked anybody either. This dick is always gonna be yours baby.”

He feels you clenching around him and that’s all the confirmation he needs as he shoots his seed deep in your pussy. 

The both of you lie there together, there’s no telling how many minutes have gone by—just skin to skin basking in the afterglow of eachother until Katsumi let’s out a yelp that startles the both of you, whining a little as his swing comes to a stop. He’s stretching his tiny arms and smacking his lips, both signs of a great nap, making those weird baby noises. 

Katsuki smirks to himself. He knows his kid like the back of his hand and wants to hit you with a big, fat ‘I told you so’ for doubting him. Instead, plants a kiss on the side of your face before he gets up. 

Babydaddy!Bakugo who has you blinking back tears as you stare at his retreating form exiting the threshold of your home. 

“Be safe.” You call out just before the door closes. It’s always bittersweet every single time, watching the two of them leave, praying they both returned to you safely. It makes you yearn to have your family back. Back under the same roof, and back to the way things used to be.

❀

𝓲𝓷𝓴 & 𝓻𝓱𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓶 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 『 band au | strangers to lovers | slow burn 』

pairing // artist!reader x drummer!bakugo status // coming soon! rating // explicit (18+ themes) #✩.ink&rhythm + crossposted to AO3

✩ summary // Distortion is the hottest band in town, making waves in the underground scene with their unique sound. Led by your college best friend and music prodigy, Kyoka Jiro, alongside her misfit group of friends, they've been playing shows every weekend for the last few months and have gathered a decent following. You're whisked into the whirlwind of their rockstar lives when Jiro commissions you to design a band logo for their merch, reconnecting with her and meeting the members of the band. Your eyes immediately gravitate to their powerful drummer, Katsuki Bakugo. Fresh out of a nasty three year on/off relationship, he's not looking for anything or anyone while shutting out the world around him. He's focused on the one thing that keeps him sane; music. You're six months free of a breakup as well, looking to repaint your world with new colors and experiences, but turns out it's more tumultuous than anticipated. Explosive fights, newfound fame, clashing egos, dive bars, stolen kisses, black out dreams, messy exes and hard lessons; but somehow, love finds a way to bloom like a flower in the desert - deep in the hottest, driest wasteland of two broken hearts.

✩ tags & warnings // rock/punk/alt band au, slow burn, meet cute, strangers to lovers, various smut, smoking/drugs/alcohol consumption, talks of emotional & physical abuse from past partners, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, mild violence, mentions of cheating from past partners, miscommunications, jealousy, long distance, stalking, attempted sexual assault (not from bakugo or the bakusquad!), bakugo & reader suffer from relationship traumas (cami & dabi are nasty exes), bakusquad are in a band, friend breakups & makeups

꒰ track list ꒱ ✩ Prelude: Holding onto Hope is a Different Kind of Pain ✩ Track One: Shine a Light into the Wreckage ✩ Track Two: Flowers Filled with Vitriol ✩ Track Three: Boulevard of (Broken?) Dreams ✩ Track Four: You Can Throw Me in the Deep End ✩ Track Five: Every Canvas that I Paint is a Masterpiece (of My Mistakes) ✩ Track Six: Band-Aids Don't Fix Bullet Holes ✩ Track Seven: Good Girls Stay Alive ✩ Track Eight: The End of Me, The End of Me ✩ Track Nine: If It Means A Lot To You ✩ Track Ten: Hand on the Throttle ✩ Bonus Track: We Are Distortion, 1-2-3-go!!

꒰ info ꒱ ✩ all characters are 24/25 years old ✩ reader co-owns an art gallery and has a BFA ✩ reader's artist alias is "glxtch" (glitch) ✩ bakugo drives a custom built orange & black Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R ✩ relationships: momojiro, kirimina, ex-bakucamie, ex-dabi/reader

✩ band name: Distortion ✧ Kyoka Jiro | lead singer, electric guitar (Barista - Degree in Music Production) ✧ Denki Kaminari | electric guitar, backup vocals (Waiter) ✧ Eijiro Kirishima | bass, backup vocals (Bartender) ✧ Katsuki Bakugo | drummer, backup vocals (Bike Mechanic) ✧ Mina Ashido | keyboard, backup vocals (Makeup artist) ✧ Momo Yaoyorozu | band manager (Marketing assistant)

✩ vocal inspirations ✧ Kyoka Jiro ⇢  addie amick (halocene) ✧ Denki Kaminari ⇢  rory rodriguez (dayseeker) ✧ Eijiro Kirishima ⇢  tim mcilrath (rise against) ✧ Katsuki Bakugo ⇢  eric vanlerberghe & acoustic (i prevail - harsh vocals) ✧ Mina Ashido ⇢  maggie lindemann

꒰ mood board ꒱

✩ pinterest board ✩

꒰ playlist ꒱

⇢  tag list ; @/bells-28 @/simp-plague @/nemisimp @/hotttamalee @/mymysenpai @/ttulipwritezz @/bakunianadecorazon @/yoyolovesdaiki @/eeeeeevesstuff @/alloueate @/dollukisposts @/Rikakhai ♡ last updated // 08.09.24 dividers, banners & moodboard by taurus-magicka

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ F*CK THE LIST

✧.* "SO I HAD SEX WITH ALL THOSE GUYS FOR NO REASON?"

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A continued tale after Gojo Satoru's blackmailing seemed to have much more to it than meets the eye.

[ { NEED TO KNOW } ] ➤ This is a prequel & sequel to my fic; The F*ck List.

[ { WARNINGS } ] ➤ afab!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, alcohol, college non-curse au, toxic altercations & interactions, heavy blackmail, obsession, possessiveness, hints of; stalking. kidnapping, violence, mentions of whore activities, gen z references, & above all; 18+ themes.

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader.

❥ Chapters !

coming soon :)

WOULD THAT I

The Gojo heir doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

status: in progress

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

notes: this has been haunting me ever since i first posted the concept. hopefully it lives up to the idea! title is from hozier.

content: soulmate au (names written on skin), possessive gojo, more warnings to be added.

read on ao3

prologue - october 4

part one - tbd

part two - tbd

🍉 fics for gaza 🍉

i really want to try and help as much as i can to raise money and donations for gaza, and @ficsforgaza is running an amazing scheme where you can request a fic/ sponsor a wip through donations. my rate is $5 per 500 words to any of the verified fundraisers listed here !! if you can't request/donate anything, then that's totally okay, but please do share and reblog !!

donation link 1 :: link 2 :: link 3 :: link 4

just to reiterate, the money does NOT go to me. you donate directly one of the fundraisers linked above.

feel free to pop into my ask box or my dms to request a matchup/fic.

if i write more than the requested words, then that's totally on me, and ill cover the rest of the donations $1 per extra 100 words (with proof).

RULES for requesting ::

first and foremost, a screenshot of your donation (please do NOT forget to censor your personal details, and please don't use the same screenshot to request multiple fics), these will NOT be posted publicly.

please also include the link to the page you donated to.

description of what you'd like me to write (can be as detailed as you want)

e.g: headcanons, one-shot, drabble + fem/gn reader

the fandom / character(s) if you want multiple

whether you'd like sfw / suggestive / crack / angst (please note i don't write hard-core nsfw)

i am also accepting requests for matchups, and the max words for that will be 1000 words [500 words for drabble and 500 words for headcanons]. what you need to include for a matchup has been listed in the example below.

request example :: hi :) hope you're well. id like to request a sfw drabble of gojo meeting his newborn daughter with a female reader. i've included proof of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details are all censored as well. thank you very much. [then include the screenshot in your ask/dm]

suggestive request example :: hi :) hope you're well. id like to request a suggestive drabble of choso making out with a female reader. i've included proof of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details are all censored as well. thank you very much. [then include the screenshot in your ask/dm]

matchup example :: hi :) i hope you're well. i'd like to request a (romantic/platonic) matchup for (jjk/aot/bnha/haikyuu). i have included a screenshot of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details have been censored. my pronouns are (insert pronouns), my gender preference is (male/female), and my personality type is (mbti personality type). my love language is (love language) my hobbies are (insert hobbies in as much detail as you want). my top 3 pet peeves/icks are (include pet peeves and icks). here are 3+ fun facts about me (include three or more fun facts in as much detail as you want). i am (include your appearance in as much detail as possible if you've donated $10 for a drabble e.g hair types, hijabi, skin colour etc). could you please avoid the following matchups (insert characters to avoid). [please also include any other details that you want and feel free to make it as long as you want !! and include the screenshot of your donation too]

GUIDLINES for requesting ::

i do NOT write nsfw works, but i am open to suggestive requests

the max words i'll write is 2000 words, but please feel free to donate as much as you can

i write gender-neutral and female reader so please include which one you'd like me to write.

i am open to writing specific readers (e.g. hijabi , tall , short , south asian , curvy)

i'll try my best to finish your requests as soon as possible but please bear with me (i'll probaby create a spreadsheet where you can track the progress of all my requests/wips)

if i write more than the requested words, then that's totally on me, and ill cover the rest of the donations $1 per extra 100 words (with proof)

i do NOT accept requests from blank blogs/blogs with no indication of age (must have age in bio or somewhere on your blog).

i will accept asks and dms but asks must NOT be anonymous !!

CONTENT/CHARACTER GUILDLINES for requesting ::

CHARACTERS:

jujutsu kaisen: sfw + suggestive : toji , choso , gojo , geto , nanami , higuruma , sukuna , mahito , shoko

jujutsu kaisen: sfw ONLY : nobara , maki , inumaki , yuuta , itadori , megumi

haikyuu: sfw + suggestive : daichi , hinata , kageyama , tsukishima , sugawara , oikawa , iwaizumi , ushijima , kuroo , kenma , bokuto , akaashi , osamu , atsumu , kita , suna , sakusa , aran

my hero academia: sfw + suggestive : most pro-heroes , class 1-A , dabi , shigaraki

misc: sfw + suggestive : eren , levi , zeke , jean , reiner , mikasa , armin , erwin , saitama (opm)

depending on the characters, i am open to writing for percy jackson/heroes of olympus

CONTENT:

sfw: domestic bliss, general fluff, sick fics, nonsexual intimacy (cuddling, kissing etc), random headcanons about characters, pregnancy/family fics, platonic situations, pretty much anything sfw i'm open to

suggestive: making out, light sexual intimacy (nothing hard-core)

angst: major character death, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort

crack: any silly little scenarios/ideas you might have.

HARD NO'S:

anything nsfw - oral / penetration / sexual nudity

male reader (i'm sorry but i dont think i'll be able to accurately portray a male reader)

anything military/war related

minor x adult

domestic/physical abuse against reader (by requested character)

alcohol / drug abuse

incest

yandere / noncon

any explicit kinks

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

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.

His Muse

Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader Warnings: Yandere Bakugou, Obsessive Tendencies, psychoanalyst therapist reader, smut, extremely dubious consent, stalking, kindapping (tagging to be safe), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampies, kitchen sex, strength kink, threats of violence (not to reader). please let me know if I missed anything! Word Count: 6.5k Notes: this isn't a more violent yandere fic, and has lots of bargaining and dub con, just as a warning!! but I can't believe I came up with this idea in November omg I move so slow when it comes to full fics. also I tried gradient style for the title and I love it lol it was so fun to try. anyway, please enjoy!! Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

When Bakugou comes to you to be his therapist, you don’t think twice about it. He filled out his application correctly, he answered when you called, his insurance went through, his problems sounded legit. You had become wary taking on new patients in your field—dealing with criminals, those with hardened and extensive records, people with all kinds of issues that an everyday therapist wouldn’t be able to handle accordingly. But you did it all (someone had to), so your vetting process was a little heavier than usual, if the therapy wasn’t state mandated. 

But Bakugou Katsuki passed with flying colors. If anything, he sounded a little too normal for your line of work, but he kept promising that his issues would be better discussed during sessions. With a little hesitance, you agree and take him on. 

He’s…okay, for the most part. A little gruff, rough around the edges and snappy when you try to touch on certain topics of his life. But in general, he’s a great patient; he pays on time, shows up five minutes early, doesn’t linger when your next patient comes buzzing, doesn’t try to touch you or seek out personal information from you. 

If anything, he still seems a bit too strait-laced for you. That is, until he starts to delve into why he really wants to come to therapy—to deal with his tendencies of rage, lashing out, and obsession. You had told him that you didn’t deal much with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but he had assured you that, no, his obsessions and compulsions weren’t about checking the locks a certain amount of times on a Wednesday, but instead about people. 

He obsessed over people, and when things wouldn’t go his way, his rage would rear its ugly head. He still hasn’t told you what his rage specifically looks like, especially with how he momentarily glances over at your little message pinned on your wall that warns people about admitting criminal acts that you’d have to report, damn the confidentiality. 

“When did these obsessions start?” You ask him, body tilted toward him even though your eyes and hands move to your open computer. You document what he says, take note of it all, skimming over previous notes from other appointments. 

“Maybe about eighteen months ago?” Bakugou’s voice is gravelly, deep and grating against the column of his throat. As he answers, he shoves his hands in his sweats pockets, scoots down a little further on your adjacent couch, looks around the room as if he hadn’t been in here a few times before. 

“So this is a more recent development?” You ask, humming under your breath and nodding when he grunts an affirmation. You type, obsessive tendencies over people started less than two years ago, could be trauma based, and you wonder if he can read the words through the reflection of your glasses when you look over to see his eyebrows screwed down. 

“Was it sudden for you?” You cock your head to the side, before shaking your head. “Let me rephrase; did these tendencies ever show their faces in other aspects of your life? Different time periods, situations? Or was it just a sudden thing that happened, something you realized once the obsession had already begun?” He starts nodding his head before you can even finish, his ash blond bangs shadowing his eyes for a second in such a way that sends a prickle of chills up your arms. You don’t know why, so you try to swallow the feeling down until it burns at the back of your throat, shifting a little in your cushioned seat. Bakugou watches you for a second before he opens his mouth to speak. 

“It was sudden.” He answers, plainly, doesn’t offer up much else until you cock an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to go on. He rolls his eyes and huffs under his breath, shifting again before he shrugs dramatically with his hands still in his pockets. 

“I dunno, I was fuckin’ normal until I wasn’t.” You chuckle a little at his tone, crossing your legs under the desk, watching how Bakugou’s vermillion eyes dart down to catch the sight of them, before they slide back up to your face. 

“You’ve been in a relationship before?” You state more than ask, eyebrows slid high on your face in question, watching Bakugou roll his eyes a little before he nods. 

“Yeah.” He offers, his mouth set in a thin line, obviously not wanting to offer up too much information on the topic. 

“How many?” You push. How the hell does he expect you to help him when he keeps giving you short answers, nothing to work with? Why even seek out your help if he acts like being here is such a nuisance to deal with?

“Two.” Bakugou says through gritted teeth, eyes cutting at the decorations you have hung on the walls. “What does this have to do with anything, anyway?” He spits, cuts his eyes at you once more as you narrow your own at him. 

“I’m trying to find a connection between your sudden obsessive tendencies with your relationships with people in the world.” You clarify for him, sitting up a little in your seat as his own irritation bubbling off of him starts to sink into your pores, too. 

“People rarely have sudden personality flips and switches with no leading causes beforehand. Did these tendencies start because of preexisting mommy issues that were suddenly uncovered after being repressed for years? Were you in a long and committed relationship, which ended in such a way that it wasn’t necessarily on your terms, even if it was ultimately your own call? Was it an accident you were in? Have you always been like this and never realized it? Do you understand what I’m saying, Katsuki?” 

…

Bakugou isn’t taking in a single word that you’re telling him. He wishes he could; he’s sure you’re saying some real shit that he should most likely take into consideration. But its so hard to focus when you look at him like that, when your neck rolls a little with every word, when your foot bounces under the desk, the way your lips curve just so. 

You’re the reason he’s even here right now. The bane of his fuckin’ existence, but also the  only thing that matters to him in the world. 

You are his obsession. His muse, his fantasy, his daydream turned reality. And it’s all your fucking fault. With how you prance around your home with your curtains open, wearing nothing but slutty little shirts and no bra, no pants, just panties that sink into the curves of your ass and thighs. How you just go about your life without a care in the fucking world, always so oblivious to everything around you. 

You hadn’t even noticed him, the months he spent watching over you. Didn’t catch his lingering stares, or how his ash blond head of hair always seemed to be at least ten feet behind you with every step you took. How your long time neighbor from across the hall suddenly disappeared, how a new tenant moved in when he knew you’d be out. How you forget entirely too often to lock your door, to put your used panties in the hamper. How you tease him with everything, how you’ve been fucking leading him on for over a year and a half now. 

So, he had to get desperate. Had to search you up and find what qualifications he needed in order to be seen by you, a psychoanalytical therapist for those who want to be reformed. 

But Bakugou had no plans on reformation. There was nothing for him to be reformed on. He just wanted you, and goddamnit, if he wasn’t going to have you. 

“I understand you, doc. Loud and clear.”

***

It was your day off, and you had plans on spending it in your bed, catching up on some reading and maybe finishing that one show you started a while ago. But, lunch time came around, and you were craving something specific and didn’t have all the ingredients that you needed. You figured you could go out to the grocery store to grab them, get some fresh air on the way there, and maybe stop at that book shop you had been eyeing for a while. 

You get ready quickly, closing your front door behind you, pausing for a second to stare at the door across the hall. You still can’t believe Ms. Hayashi had so suddenly moved out, especially after living in this complex since it was first built. She hadn’t even said goodbye, and you never got the chance to return the Tupperware she lended you. 

It wouldn’t have been as weird if someone hadn’t supposedly moved in the next day. You were a gossip with your landlord, a nice older lady, and she gave you all up the updates on the people who lived in the complex. She had said that he was a nice guy, kind of scary and intimating in stature, but respectful the whole time. Said that he didn’t even look at the apartment before giving her the first six months rent and despot in cash. She told you to ever call her if you smelled meth cooking from that apartment, as no one who works a regular job just has that kind of money laying around. 

You shrug to yourself, coming to the conclusion that maybe the new owner just needed to get out of town, away from somewhere or someone else. Everyone has their reasonings, and you can’t analyze every single move someone you haven’t even met before has ever made. 

You continue down the steps until you’re out of the building, unaware of the crimson eyes that follow your every movement. The walk to the store is a little longer than you’d like for it to be, but you figure that the exercise can do you some justice, and it’s always nice being out in nature. You stop and pick a flower that grows from a crack in the sidewalk, twirling it in your finger the whole way to the store, finally tucking it behind your ear when you have to grab a grocery cart. 

And still—and still—you don’t see the eyes that watch you. The figure that follows your every move, that disappears behind walls and aisles every time you turn your back. You feel it though, he can tell, because you move a little quicker and look over your shoulder more than usual. 

You go to the self checkout, trying to hurry now, as an uneasy feeling starts to wash over you. You get these often, especially working in the field that you do with the patients that you choose to take on—hardened criminals, fresh out of jail and still ready to harm society, people that just like to see the world burn for the fun of it. 

The therapist is typically one of the first few people to be taken out, after parents. You’re always too high on the list for your liking, despite loving your job. 

You keep trying to scan an item, but it’s not working, and that only makes your panic settle in deeper into your bones. You try to remember the techniques that you give people when they start to feel overwhelmed by their emotions and what goes on in their heads, but its hard when that sinking feeling only grows deeper and heavier by the moment until—

“Need some help with that?” You jump away quickly, eyes wide as you hold up the can of soup you were gripping tightly like a weapon. You let out a breath though, only in slight relief, to see that its one of your patients standing beside you—Bakugou Katsuki. He looks different than he usually does in your sessions together; he’s wearing a tight compression shirt that hugs his wide shoulders, navy blue in color, sweatpants that wrap around the thick muscles in his thighs, and plain running shoes. 

For some reason though, the panic in your stomach doesn’t fully quell at the sight of him. 

“No, I got it. Thanks though, Bakugou.” You tell him politely, smiling shakily. Why does the sight of him unnerve you so bad? You’ve run into patients before on the street, and they never make you feel like this, this uneasy, even when it was dark and you were dressed more scantily than you are now, with your baggy pants and too big shirt. 

“You sure?” He grunts, cocking his head at you as he gently pries the can from your still tight grip. “I watched you struggle with it for like, two minutes. Let me.” He tells you, never taking his eyes off of you as he scans your item easily enough. He only looks away when he bags it for you, and starts to scan the rest of your things as if you weren’t standing there. 

“Oh no, it’s okay, I can finish that myself.” You wave him off him with a shaky smile, finally breaking out of your stupor when he’s damn near finished. You reach out to stop him, but Bakugou only waves you away with a grunt. 

“’S alright. It’s the least I can do for you helping me figure my crazy out.” Bakugou shrugs at you, a joke you’re presuming, as he glances over at you with a tiny lilt at the corner of his mouth. It calms you, only for a second, before something ever so slightly changes in his eyes, in the way he looks at you and takes you in, makes you feel like something sinister is sinking deep into your bones. Your stomach tightens again, and you have to force a smile when he finishes, before it drops when you see him reaching for his wallet. 

“Oh, I really can’t let you pay for my groceries.” You tell him, stepping up to him before pausing when he looks at you out of the corner of his eye with an expression so terrifying, that it makes stone drop into the pit of your belly. 

“Let me.” Bakugou tells you more than asks you, and you nod slowly, swallowing the thickness that has settled into the back of your throat. You can only watch as he pulls out a wad of cash, counting through it before inserting it into the machine, mouth set in a thin line all the while. You try to take him in, figure out where his own groceries are to be in this section, where all this money is coming from, if his address that he put on the file is even anywhere near this area. 

It’s not. 

“Cmon.” Bakugou snaps you out of your trance, big veiny hands holding all of your groceries as he nods his head to the exit. You’re stuck there, wondering if this is really happening, if these are just boundaries being crossed or a crime about to be committed. You feel tears stinging at your eyes as you try to blink them away, hiccuping slightly as you slowly shake your head. 

“Please give me my groceries, Bakugou.” You don’t even recognize your own voice, soft and shaky and purely terrified. Bakugou fixes you with another deadly expression but this time—this time he smiles at you, and its everything but friendly. All big white teeth and too sharp incisors, all falsely charming and all weaponry, all threat with no escape from his drooling maw. 

“I think we should go home, now. Don’t you?” He asks you with a cock of his head, body still turned to the exit, his stature eery with how the veins in his neck throb with every second you stay rooted in your spot. “Before something happens to these nice people in here, right? Before they have to bear witness to a massacre, all because you don’t want to walk home with me.”

You have to bite back your sob that bubbles up in your throat. You’re terrified of what will happen to you, but you’re a caretaker first. You have to put yourself before these people, put yourself before the monster that wants you as a sacrifice before he burns an entire village down for you. 

So you nod, and take the hand offered to you as he switches the groceries to one hand, just to squeeze yours in the other. 

You leave out of the grocery store with tears muddled in your eyes, a quivering chin that you try to conceal, hope no one wants to be a hero and find themselves hurt, or worse, because you can’t school your expressions. 

This was taught in a psychology course you took in college, you remember. One of your classes after you started working on your highest degree—what to do in real life situations as a psychologist. How to avoid more conflict when a patient is erratic. How to deescalate. How to survive. 

Everything you’ve ever learned has gone out the window now. 

You and Bakugou walk down the street hand in hand, looking like a normal couple for the most part, besides your trembling jaw and shaky steps. You glance up to him, watching him squint in the sunlight before he glances down at you, squeezing your hand gently, as if to comfort you, as if he weren’t the cause of your panic. You notice that he’s walking right in the direction of your apartment, as if the route were memorized. 

“How do you know where I live?” You ask shakily, mouth full of cotton as Bakugou keeps his head forward, grinning. He glances at you again, eyes bouncing between the delicate flower tucked behind your ear, and the terrified expression your eyes carry. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” He shrugs nonchalantly, doesn’t offer up anymore information until you stand outside of your building. “You know, for you to be a therapist to fuckin’ weirdos, you don’t watch your back good enough for my liking.” 

You didn’t think your stomach could sink any lower, but it does. It does when the realization settles, when his words kick in—that he’s been watching you, but for how long? How could you not have noticed? Did he even contact you because he needed help, or was this only a way to grow closer to you, to his obsession?

Before you know it, Bakugou has walked you up the stairs until you reached your floor. Your body turns to instinctively to your door, but you’re pulled in the other direction. 

“Wha—” you go to ask Bakugou, before you notice he’s set your groceries down to fiddle with the key to…to the apartment across the hall from you. You feel the tears flood again, letting them flow this time since no one is around to try and save you and put themselves in harms way anymore. 

“It’s been you? This whole time?” You ask slowly, starting to pull away when Bakugou opens the door to Ms. Hayashi’s apartment, still decorated the same before she mysteriously disappeared—you don’t think its so mysterious anymore.

“Of course it’s been me.” Bakugou scoffs as he grips your hand tighter, pulling you closer until you near the doorway. “I had to watch  over you—do you know how careless you are with everything? With your life?” He snarls, whirling around on you when you plant your feet and try to keep him from pulling you into his lions den. Bakugou is all snarls and teeth, invokes such a deep fear within you that you can’t help but shrink under his gaze. 

“Now come on. I’ve been waiting for this for entirely too long.” His voice is downright salacious, eyes turning sharp and hungry, and in a way that makes you feel like nothing more than hunted prey. 

Bakugou damn near drags you within the apartment, despite your whimpering and pulling at him—he’s just too strong. He walks you a few feet inside before he dumps the groceries on a coffee table, finally letting go of your hand so that he can lock the door, emerging a key from his sweatpants pocket to one of the many, many locks, an insurance policy of you never leaving him unless he allows it. 

You try to put on your therapist boots for a minute, swallowing your fear as you try to reason with him, swallowing thickly when he turns around and takes your trembling form in. 

“Bakugou,” you start shakily, “this doesn’t have to end bad for us. You can just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened. I won’t report you, or anything. Please, please, PLEASE!” 

He comes rushing at you before you know it, on you in seconds, despite trying to turn and outrun him before he pounces. But it’s too late and he’s too big and too overwhelming, and he grabs you up in his arms, shushing your screaming with his mouth pressed against yours. 

So this is what he wants, you think to yourself, terrified to say you’re slightly relieved. You’ve worked with men who liked to torture women for fun, and you were scared that he was secretly one of them, but it looks like he just wants—

“You.” Bakugou whispers with a swallow against your mouth, hot and breathy. “I want you so fuckin’ bad, wanted this for so long, fuck.” He’s wrapping you up within him in seconds, arms crushing your ribs, tongue sneaking into your mouth, hands grabbing handfuls of whatever he can reach. 

You’re stunned, mostly. Finally putting the pieces together of everything that is Bakugou, his coming to you about his obsessions, his secrecy despite needing your help, the way he always looked at you, how he devours you now like a mere schoolboy. It all makes sense now. You pull away from him, eyes round and wide as you take in his lowered ones, how he dives back in to nip at your jaw and chin and cheek. 

“I’m your obsession.” You whisper shakily, hands on his shoulders, despite them making no moves to move the large man back. Bakugou groans at that, damn near sinks to his knees at your realization, wraps you up even tighter as he buries his face into the skin of your neck. 

“Fuckin’ finally. Thought you would’ve caught on sooner by now, dumbass.” He scolds you, licking up the expanse of your skin as you shiver and try to back away. But Bakugou only holds you tighter, and you whimper at the bulge that nudges your hip. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve—could’ve worked on exposure therapy, had someone there to monitor you for our safety, could’ve—”

“Too much work. I just want you.” Bakugou moans, nipping at your skin, grabbing handfuls of your ass when you squeak. He walks you backwards until your back meets a wall, the breath being knocked out of you as you gasp, eyes wide when he finally pulls away from your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this, all fucked out and relaxed and even a little excited. Always saw him with a bored or irritated expression, one of indifference. But now, Bakugou looks high on euphoria, with kiss swollen lips and low eyelids as he takes in your still shocked expression. 

“Let me taste you,” Bakugou rushes out in a quick breath, diving in once more to lick at your mouth before he pulls away, big hands squeezing at your waist and ass excitedly. He’s like a dog with a bone, like a pup with no master, waiting for you to give the command, the permission to go. 

You wonder if you have more control of this situation than you originally thought. So you try your hand, see how far you can push before you can wiggle your way out of this entire thing and get the chance to call the police. 

“Bakugou,” you start, quickly being cut off by him with a sharp nip to your chin. 

“Katsuki,” he corrects. You nod. 

“Katsuki, if I—if I let you do this, this one thing of…of tasting me, will you promise to let me go?” You try to reason with him, cupping his cheek when his eyes wander over your form instead of your face, leaning into your touch instinctively. 

“We can,” you pause with a swallow. “I can do this. I can create a therapy plan for you, for your obsession over me, and it can be fully consenting and healthy, but you have to let me help you and let me take control.” You try to reason with Bakugou, hope he understands what you’re saying, that he won’t catch on to this just being a trick. But he only groans and turns his head, sucking your thumb into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at your gasp before he releases you with a pop. He turns half lidded vermillion eyes to you, frowning as he rests his heavy head in your palm. 

“Whatever you fuckin’ say, just let me taste you, goddamnit.” He mutters petulantly. You can only hold your breath, wonder if what you’re agreeing will hurt you in the long run before you nod. 

“You can—you can taste me, Katsuki.” 

You think you might’ve sealed the deal with a devil, with the way you can practically see horns protruding from his forehead and a tail flickering behind him when he drops to his knees. Bakugou is too quick for your liking, yanks your pants around your ankles too fast, hurries you out of them, rips your underwear away from your skin until it tears and falls limply in a pile on the floor. 

You squeak when his face is suddenly pressed right against your cunt, his nose buried into your pubic hair, the sound of a big sniff echoing throughout the room. You can’t help but cringe, but don’t dare push him away—people need to be exposed to all aspects of things in order to overcome them, even if those things are sniffing what lies between your legs. 

“Fuck, smells so good.” Bakugou grunts under his breath, huffing a few times before he forces your legs further apart until you can accommodate the wide expanse of his shoulders. You grunt from the stretch, trying to make yourself comfortable, but Bakugou picks up on it quickly, and grabs your knee to hike your leg over his shoulder to rest on. 

It creates a better angle for him anyway, with your lips glistening with your arousal—you were aroused. Turned on by him just as much as he was with you. You were wet, even if it’s not as much as he would prefer, as he would get you to that amount in only a matter of time. 

You throbbed when his tongue traced the hood of your clit, of your lips, your folds. You twitch hard against his mouth when he keeps licking and licking at you, until your slickness and his spit mingle and he doesn’t know where you end and where he begins. Until it makes a mess of his mouth and chin and the floor below him, and you, with your pretty moans and grabbing hands. 

Bakugou has waited for this moment longer than he can really care to remember, at this point in time. Waited to worship you on his knees, be able to look up from between your soft thighs and see the scrunch of your brows when he sucks your clit between his lips and runs over it with the flatness of his tongue. 

It’s an addictive feeling, really. Makes him feel higher than any drug could ever take him, makes his eyes roll back and his cock throb so hard that he has to grab it from beneath his sweats to keep from busting his load already. 

You can only stand there and take it—take the incessant licking around your hole, and the dipping of his tongue inside of you, and the sweet little kisses he plants on your clit. You try to reason with yourself, convince yourself that this is an improvised session with a client that needed your help so badly that you decided to take him on your day off. Try to tell yourself that this is all apart of the therapy that he needs in order to get over you. 

You only hope that the taste of you doesn’t become so addictive, that your plans for him will go flying out the window the moment you try to reason with him. 

But its hard to reason even with yourself when Bakugou is sliding a thick, middled finger inside of your dripping hole as he noisily sucks your clit between his lips. You cry out at that, knees wobbling, but he’s there to catch you with his free hand, his shoulder. Holds you up steady like a pillar as he lashes his tongue against you, twists his finger, curves it slowly, before he’s adding another one before you can even register what’s happening to you. 

“Shit, Katsuki,” you moan out, cursing yourself for letting him make you feel so good, for getting so wrapped up in this ‘therapy’. You can only hope that the board doesn’t take your license if they were to ever find out about it. 

“Thats it, baby, ride my fingers just like that.” Bakugou breaks you out of your trance with his groan. You hadn’t even realize how your hips were moving against him, grinding down on his digits that curl up inside of you, that slide against that swelling spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes cross.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” Bakugou whispers against your mound, trailing spit from his mouth down to your clit once more, eyes never leaving the pleasured look on your face. 

Did you know he imagined this, in damn near every session he’s ever had with you? While it wasn’t plenty of sessions (he had only started seeing you about six months ago), it was all he could think of. Every Tuesday at 2:45pm, in office number 218, first door on the right, the mint green office—all he could think of was you. Even when you asked him questions with a professional and friendly smile, even when you were covered head to toe, even when you ripped him a new one for his shitty answers and responses. 

This was all he wanted, all he craved to see. The way your mouth dropped open when he starts damn near directing you in how he wants you to ride his fingers. How your hips move and swivel and tremble when he keeps bringing his fingers close to his face, inside of you. How you grip so tightly at his hair and pull when he won’t stop sucking and licking and messily kissing your clit. How he damn near makes out with your hole, tongue drooling and smacking against your soaked skin until he feels himself about to burst in his pants. 

This was all he wanted, and Bakugou always gets what he wants. Even if its you—especially if it’s you. 

“I’m—oh, I think I’m—shit!” Your brain is damn near fried when you start to orgasm, an earth shattering moan slipping from your throat as you throw your head back, hips bucking against Bakugou’s face and hands. He has to hold your entire body up steadily, fears that you may fall from how hard you’re coming, how you shake in his arms. 

His fingers are steady inside of you, and only slows when you start to finally come down from your high. Bakugou kisses the inside of your thigh sweetly, nibbles at it when you groan and complain about feeling too weak from the intensity. But that’s not a problem for him at all. 

“Hey—what are you—” Bakugou cuts you off with a wet kiss pressed to your mouth when he stands to his full height. His tongue slides against yours and you can’t help but moan when you taste yourself on him. He doesn’t give you a chance to step away and try to slink back to your own apartment, instead hoisting you up quickly in his arms as he starts to walk to a room behind you. 

Before you can protest, you’ve been dumped on the kitchen table, Bakugou pressing you down with a hand to your sternum when you try to sit up, shooting you another one of those eery looks from earlier. You still instantly, before slowly lowering yourself back down on the table, eyes wide again when he levels you with a stare for a beat longer before he steps back to yank his shirt over his head. 

“I thought,” you mumble, trying not to stare at how well built Bakugou is, how his biceps might literally be bigger than your entire head. “I thought that we agreed for you to only, um, taste me, and then you’d stop.” Its hard finding your voice when Bakugou stares at you like that again, not scarily, but hungry like before. Hard to fight back and push him away when he grabs your shirt in two hands and rips and pulls until your torso is exposed, like the fabric meant nothing to him. 

You clench your thighs at the display of strength and hope that he doesn’t notice. (He does). 

Bakugou shrugs at you, pulls your bra down until your tits are on display, grabbing a handful of each and massaging them in warm, sweaty palms. He ducks his head down and gives a sweet kiss to both of your nipples, licking one crudely before he stands back up to his full height, your breasts still in his hands. You think he must’ve forgotten what you said, or simply didn’t care to answer, but he surprises you when he squeezes your tits tightly and speaks, 

“Think I need a little more exposure before I have to be reduced to doses only, doc.” Is all Bakugou gives you, squeezing your chest one last time before he pulls away. You try not to show the panic on your face when he reaches to pull his sweats down until they bunch around his corded thighs, cock damn near bursting from its confinements. 

Bakugou reaches inside of his boxers, biting at his bottom lip when he touches it directly for the first time since he’s gotten you, groans a little at your gasp when he fully exposes himself. He’s thick, curved a little to the side, his head a dark flushed color, a fat vein forking up the side of his shaft. He rests his cock over you, makes a soft little noise in the back of his throat when the precum slides from his tip and pools in the dip of your bellybutton. 

“Shit, I love you so fuckin’ much,” Bakugou mutters under his breath as he positions himself at your entrance. Your eyes bulge at his confession, but before you can even touch on what he’s said, he’s already sliding his way inside of you. 

Your head falls against the kitchen table, the dull pain quiet compared to the overwhelming pleasure that settles low in your pelvis. You groan, thighs hooked around Bakugou’s waist as he fucks his way inside of you, a moan on his tongue as he watches the way your lips split and suck him inside so, so sweetly. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t wait anymore,” Bakugou mutters against your mouth. As he soon as he settles inside of you, he’s pulling out until his tip kisses your entrance, before he fucks his way back in. You shudder, his cock warm and heavy inside of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every stroke until you start to cling to him and ask for more, more, more. 

And Bakugou gives it to you, with feral growls, hiking your legs up higher until they rest on his shoulders, hunching over you with every wet slap of his balls against your ass. The position forces him even deeper, makes your feet dangle entirely too close to your face, Bakugou leaning over to kiss you sweetly on the ankle. 

“So, fuck, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Bakugou taunts you, grinning down at you when you blink bleary eyes up at him. He’s sweaty and golden and has a halo of light behind his ash blond hair from the overhead light. He’s prettier than you want to admit, but its hard trying to keep a face of professionalism when his cock keeps kissing your sweet spot and his chest pressed against yours makes your nipples harder than rocks. 

“Huh? What happened to that fucking smart ass that would lecture me in our sessions?” He teases, smile wide and feral as he holds your cheeks tightly between his thick fingers. He forces your mouth into a pout, kissing it, when you blabber nonsense up at him. 

“Fucked you dumb already? All those years of college right out the door, huh, baby?” Bakugou’s so mean, makes you whine and claw at his shoulders and nape. You could answer him, give him your professional opinion—not like you even had one in the first place—but he makes it so hard to think. When his cock is balls deep inside of you, when he looks at you with his teasing and yet adoring little grin, when he keeps shaking your face at him with a taunting coo, when he sneaks a hand between your bodies to circle your clit. 

“It’s okay; I can think for you. You don’t have to use that pretty little head even once when you’re with me.” Bakugou’s coos sweetly, reaches down and pecks your forehead and mouth when you whimper pathetically up at him with teary eyes. 

“Gonna cum? Yeah?” He asks you, hips never faltering as he fucks you into the table, his mouth pressed against yours as you grab him tightly, feeling the oncoming orgasm starting to flood your system. 

“Yeah,” you whine softly against his mouth through your puckered lips, making Bakugou groan as he fucks you through your orgasm. You tighten up around him so deliciously, sound so pretty with your fucked out moans and hoarse voice, look so gorgeous all high out of your mind and pliant on his kitchen counter. 

How could he ever remember to pull out?

You try to protest when Bakugou holds you tight and starts to cum inside of you, but your complaints fall on deaf ears. He only holds you tighter against him, groaning loud in the skin of your neck as his cock spurts his hot seed deep inside of you. When he finishes, he collapses on top of you, breathy and sweaty, and you’re in no better position. Its quiet for a while, despite your legs and back aching, and the cooling feeling of his cum starting to spill from around his softening cock still buried inside of you. 

“So,” Bakugou starts, and you’re almost fearful of what he might say next. “Can you start scheduling my appointments to your apartment instead of your office now?” 

You’re at least a little thankful that he has plans to let you go back to your life, even if he’s forcing himself to be apart of every little aspect of it. You nod tiredly, wondering how and if you’re going to tell your boss. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”