Latest Posts by chunkyblossomberry - Page 4

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡ This right here Delicious!!! I need more!!!

NSFW

So hybrid bulls and cows are actually separate species in MY fantasy world, not male and female.

So you work on a farm specializing in male cows and bulls, the only woman that’s allowed there due to… how the hybrids behave around any females.

You milk them… but not in the normal way. As the only woman on the farm, you’re the only one they’ll allow to milk their cocks. They produce a special semen that’s a milk alternative, and very yummy!

The cow’s are fine enough, following you around and nuzzling into you, wanting cuddles and extra attention when you’re milking them… they behave so well, blushing and mooing softly, gently moving their hips against your hand as you milk their cocks dry.

The bulls however… are a different story. They’re very territorial and protective over the cow hybrids, who they’ve formed a friendship with. They don’t like most people, and tend to be loners that only come around when it’s milking time.

But your pay is upgraded when the farm owners notice that the bulls have started warming up to you, even starting to treat you like a heifer, keeping you safe and guarding you from the other employees.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone but you when the bulls started being a bit… too handsy with you. They viewed you as a heifer now… but you were so small compared to any female cow they’d ever seen. A runt, stunted, maybe…

But you had that chubby tummy and plush hips, those plump breasts that would look so pretty full of milk…

Within a month of starting work, you find yourself being bent over by one of the bulls, the cows mooing in distress and trying to comfort you as a fat cock enters your cunt.

“D-don’t be rough with her! She’s little!” one of the cows protests, stroking your hair and cooing softly to you. The bull huffs, hot air hitting the back of your neck as he fucks into you.

“Being as gentle as possible… little thing, couldn’t take me being rough even if I wanted to be…”

Your cunt was stuffed full with cum, several bulls mounting you until you were a blubbering mess. Once the bulls were done, you were surrounded by cows, getting kisses and snuggles… but they wanted to mate as well…

They pressed down on your belly, cum pooling between your legs as they cooed and gently fucked their own seed into you. By the end of the work day, you were spent, curled up in the hay with several cow hybrids as the bulls guarded the door.

You were payed handsomely for your efforts, and offered an even bigger paycheck to let them mount you at least once a week to let out their sexual frustrations.

They became more territorial around you, but when you weren’t in the picture, the bulls were much calmer and didn’t attack anyone that brought out food or came to give them check ups.

And when you became pregnant… well… let’s just say you were tucked away in the barn, living there with the cows and bulls as your belly grew heavy and swollen.

The cows tended to you, making sure you received all the human comforts you wanted along with their endless affections, and the bulls kept you safe.

———————

A/N: omg… ask me more about this concept because… I’m in love

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @chubbumblebee @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden

I wish ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Imagine a group of three mermen find you, a human, stranded near their waters. They've never seen a human before, let alone one so cute! You're dehydrated and starving, so they take it upon themselves to nurse you back to health. They get you everything you need even before you need it, making sure you're always comfortable and satisfied. Once you're able to start walking again, the mermen start bringing you presents ranging from pearls, pretty shells, and large fish. You accept gifts from all three of them, to which they respond with confused expressions and clicks that you can't understand. They don't speak your language, obviously, but you've always been able to communicate through hand signs and pointing. They all start acting a little odd and you can't keep up with their conversations.

"She accepted all of our gifts! Does that mean she wants to mate with us all?"

"That must be it, there's no other explanation."

"She seems happy with all three of us as mates, but... Can a human truly handle our offspring..?"

The following evening, the biggest out of the mermen approaches you, cooing softly and clicking as he caresses your legs and thighs. It doesn't take you long to understand what he wants, especially when he starts spreading your legs and prodding his nose at your pussy. He eats you out with his long tongue reaching deep, webbed hands keeping your thighs spread wide so he can enjoy your cute little cunt, gushing and leaking for him. After he's made you come twice, he retreats a little, causing you to sit up in confusion. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the thing emerging from a slit located below his stomach. Not only is it long; it's also thick, curved, and intimidating. It isn't until you see that the other two mermen have appeared behind him, cocks also exposed, that you finally understand what's about to happen...

"Did you prepare her?"

"Yes, I think she's ready."

"She's our pretty mate, I'm sure she can take all three of us!"

Top tier content \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 2

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, bondage, nipple/clit stimulation, double penetration, anal play, edging, yandere monster

[Part 1] [Part 2]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s late at night and you’re sitting in bed, reading a book before you go to sleep. Or at least, you’re trying to, but you keep peeking over the side of the bed, hoping your tentacle monster will come visit you again tonight. After a while, with no sign of your guest from last night, your eyes grow heavy and you drift off to sleep. The light is still on and your book is sitting open on your stomach as you lay sprawled across your mattress, dreaming about tentacles wrapping you up.

You’re snoring softly when, suddenly, you jolt awake to the feeling of something cool and silky caressing your cheek. Quickly sitting up in bed, you blink open your eyes to find an inky black tentacle stroking your face. With a wide smile, you reach out a hand and stroke your fingers along its length, marveling at how nice the texture feels. When the tentacle begins tickling your ear, you squirm out of reach, giggling and gently batting it away. Wiggling in place, almost as if it’s laughing, the tentacle retreats back under the bed.

A moment later, it reappears again with its tip wrapped around an object. This time, you reach out your hand, eager to see what it has for you. When it uncurls itself, a small stone drops into your hand. Grinning at the new gift, you hold it up to the light and marvel at the gorgeous gray surface that’s veined with bright streaks of white. After you’ve finished inspecting the stone, you place it on your nightstand along with the pearl and necklace pendant. Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on the tip of the tentacle and then laugh when it wiggles again.

Remembering what you found up earlier today, you hop off the bed and hurry over to your backpack, calling over your shoulder, “I have something for you too!”

After rummaging around for a minute, you find what you’re looking for and walk back over to your bed where the tentacle is still patiently waiting. Extending your hand, you watch as it carefully picks up the piece of dark green sea glass, its edges worn smooth. Another tentacle appears as it gently rolls the piece of glass between the two tips, caressing the surface, as if inspecting it.

You’re chewing your bottom lip, hoping it likes your gift, when suddenly the tentacles wiggle again as several more shoot up from under the bed and wrap you up in a giant hug. Laughing, you squeeze back, happy that it seems to like your gift. 

As the tentacles slither along your skin, you’re reminded of the night before when it had you pinned to the bed. Your cheeks grow flushed with the memory and you wonder how you can make that happen. As if it can sense where your thoughts are headed, the tentacles begin to deliberately rub along your nipples, which are already hardening under your shirt. Letting out a soft moan, you relax into the monster’s hold, hoping it will get the hint.

It clearly understands what you want because a few tentacles grip your shirt and begin pulling it over your head as others work your shorts down your hips. Once you’re completely naked, the tentacles take a moment to slither along your bare skin, as if enjoying the feel of you just as much as you do. 

Then, one of the tentacles wraps around both your wrists, tugging you forward so you’re on your knees. Another one wraps around your waist, pulling backwards as the first one continues to pull your arms down to the bed. Soon you’re fully bent over with your ass up in the air and your wrists bound and stretched out over your head on the mattress. Next, two more tentacles wrap around each of your thighs, pulling them apart so that your pussy is completely exposed.

A shiver runs through you, not from the cold, but from anticipation for what the monster will do to you. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you wait long. One tentacle reaches up to play with your clit, alternating between flicking the bud and pulling at it with one of its suction cups. You moan at the sensations, trying to wiggle your hips for more but you’re completely bound, unable to move anywhere.

Two tentacles reach up and suction themselves to each of your nipples, pulling down so there’s a delicious tug on your breasts. The weight of the tentacles and your heavy breathing causes them to sway beneath you and you mewl in pleasure. As the other tentacle continues to play with your clit, wetness drips from your soaking pussy. Another one slides up along your leg gathering up your juices and plunges inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion.

As the tentacle pushes deeper inside you, stretching your walls as far as they’ll go, the small bite of pain adds a delicious zing of pleasure to the already overwhelming sensations. When it’s completely filled you up, it pauses, letting you adjust for a moment. Once it senses you beginning to relax, it slowly pulls back out, almost to the tip, and then plunges all the way in again. Pulling out and shoving back in, it sets a rapid pace, the wet squelching sounds mixing with the cries of pleasure pouring from your lips.

As the monster continues to fuck you senselessly, you begin to feel an orgasm building. But just as your walls start to clamp down on the tentacle, it abruptly pulls out, simultaneously pausing its ministrations on your clit, and you cry out in despair. After a moment, it resumes teasing and fucking you, only to pause once again when your orgasm is almost at its peak. It does this over and over again, bringing you right to the brink and then pulling back until you’re a whining, needy mess.

Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes and you think you’ve almost had enough when, instead of pushing back into your pussy, the soaking wet tentacle moves higher, up to your ass. You suck in a breath as it tickles the outer rim, teasing and flicking the puckered skin. You’ve never had anything there and you’re a little afraid it will hurt, but at the same time you trust this monster with your body and want to see what it will do.

Pressing the tip gently in, the tentacle pushes past the first ring of muscles and you groan at the new sensation. Slowly, it works its way further and further in, pausing every few inches to let you adjust to the new girth. When it reaches as far as it seems to be able to go, it pulls back out and then pushes in again. This time, it fucks you more slowly than before and you melt into the mattress, getting lost in the sensation. 

You’ve forgotten your earlier frustrations, too distracted by the tentacle filling your ass, until you feel a different tentacle begin to push its way into your pussy. Gasping, you try to wiggle away – there’s no way it can fit two at the same time, right? But of course, there’s nowhere for you to go and it continues to ease the second tentacle into your cunt while the first one keeps slowly fucking in and out of your ass.

Before long, both tentacles are completely filling you up, stuffing you to the brim, and you’re almost delirious with the overwhelming fullness. They begin to move in tandem, plunging in and out of both your holes as you whimper and cry out with each thrust. It’s almost too much, but at the same time you’ve never felt anything more amazing and you never want it to end. 

This time, when your thighs begin to tremble and your walls start to clamp down with your impending orgasm, the monster doesn’t stop. Instead, it resumes playing with your clit and you immediately explode. Stars burst behind your eyes as your entire body seizes up, white hot pleasure coursing through you. It feels like the orgasm goes on forever as you get lost in a hazy bliss and time ceases to exist.

Eventually, though, awareness begins to return as you start to come down from the high and you sag into the mattress, boneless and spent. Carefully, the monster eases out of you and releases its hold on your body. You’re almost sad at the loss of contact. But then it gently maneuvers you so that your head is resting on the pillow and pulls the blanket over you, tucking you in around the edges. As the tentacles start to retreat back under the bed, you reach out and snag one of them, holding onto it. 

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” You ask in a drowsy voice.

You feel it hesitate for a moment but then the tentacle winds up your wrist, grasping onto you. Smiling, you settle back into the pillow and begin to drift off. Before you’re fully asleep, you manage to mumble, “Will you come back again tomorrow night?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, right as your awareness slips away, you hear an inhumanly deep, multilayered voice echo in your mind, “Yes, little creature.”

──────────────────

The monster is immensely pleased with this female it has chosen to mate.

At first, it wasn’t sure if the gifts left on various surfaces of her den were meant for it. But it took them anyways, wanting to indulge in the fantasy. Most creatures run screaming when they see the monster for the first time. Some even attack without warning. 

But not this one. To the monster’s delight, this delectable female was only startled at first. And when it tried to offer her gifts to soothe her fear, she eagerly accepted them! 

She even accepted its attempts to couple and let it touch her. 

Feel her. 

Taste her. 

She is utterly delicious.

And when she presented it with a mating gift of her own tonight, it knew for sure that she had accepted its offer.

As the monster settles into the darkness beneath where she sleeps, grasping her tiny delicate hand, it hopes that it can make her happy enough that she’ll never want to leave. Because even if she does, it will never let her go.

Some rather unlucky investments have landed you in a tad of debt. However, you have know of a way to get out of it that requires very little work on your part.

The "Pussy Portal" company are always hiring after all.

All you have to do is have a portal directly connected to your pussy that any paying customer can use at any time. What could go wrong?

Just realized u didn't actually say it had to be monsterfucking specifically but I made it that anyway lmao.

At least you thought it was going to be very little work on your part.

But now you're not so sure as you sit on the train ride home trying to act like there isn't a monster cock reaching deep in your cunt.

You curse yourself for not reading the terms and conditions of the contract properly. You thought they were just being hyperbolic when they said "Prime Pussy Anywhere, Anytime!" Surely they would have down times right?

No. There are no down times unless you call in a sick day of which you only have few. You shoulda known that pay was too good to be true.

At least whoever's using your portal seems to only be cockwarming themselves for the time being, although that could change at any moment. Every jerk of the train makes you tense up as you try and act as nonchalant as possible. The cock sits so snug and warm inside you, it twitches every time you tense around it.

On the customer app your portal is advertised as specifically "Human pussy" so you like imagining the kinds of monsters who would pick that out specifically. You haven't figured out what monster this one might be, it's rather thick and hot with a very generous amount of precum.

When you get to your stop the train jerks more than you expected and you have to subtly cover your mouth and grab the railing to avoid making a sound. Your customer definitely felt you clench down in panic as their cock jumps in excitement.

They start grinding down slowly on the portal, their cock thrusting shallowly. You speed walk straight for the train station bathrooms and lock yourself inside a stall. Close call but you made it and just in time for their shallow thrusts to turn into full pumps into your slick pussy.

You lean your back on the wall of the stall as your cunt is now being thoroughly pounded by this stranger. You have to crouch to your knees as your orgasm builds up, rubbing your clit with one hand while the other covers your mouth.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge you feel something bigger at the base of the shaft bump against your pussy with each hard thrust. You gasp in realization but it's too late as the monster thrusts their knot past your entrance and you cum hard with a silent scream, spasming and shaking against the bathroom stall.

Their cum fills you to the brim, kept inside by their inflamed knot. They don't stop cumming for several minutes but when they do it takes you several more to compose yourself enough to step out of the bathroom on wobbly legs.

You make the slow and embarrassing walk home while the monster's knot sits snuggly inside your pussy, keeping all that warm cum inside you.

The knot inside you doesn't deflate fully until you're already home and making dinner. You have to grip the counter, shivering slightly as your customer pulls out and goes on with their day having been properly satisfied. The thought makes you feel a strange sense of pride. Just then your phone beeps with a notification from the Portal companies app.

The customer left a tip!

How nice! They also left a review on your page,

"10/10. Best stress relief. Would fuck again."

chubby bunny but instead of marshmallows it’s cum

That’s my man ☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞

pairing:: onyankopon x reader

wc:: 2.6k

warnings:: umm starts off as soft sex, they get a lil crazy (my fault), tongue sucking, squirting, cunnilingus all that. nothing too crazy. using 'mama' and 'ma', reader has braids and acrylics.

note:: heyy.. how yall doin 😅 work below the cut.. dont beat my ass

“You remind me of the sun, ony’,” you mumble, cheek pressed against his bare bicep with your head resting soft against the picnic blanket as you look up at the night sky. He's like the sun to you. “mm, yeah What– does that mean, pretty?” His voice is deep… just above a whisper and in your peripheral vision you see him looking at you but your eyes are fixated on the stars above. “I dunno, your skin is always so warm when I feel cold but– I gravitate towards you all the time. Like all the other stars do. You exude something… mmph, what m’ I saying rightnow.” You fumble, chuckling lightly at your lack of words.

“do you believe in destiny? like ‘written in the stars’ n’ shit? Hm?” Onyankopon speaks up, you feel an emotion behind his tone you can't quite describe. It sounded like… uncertainty, insecurity. “Well, you know how my exes were… I'd like to think those were just unfortunate circumstances that I'm tryna grow from, baby. I don't wanna think the universe puts us through that on purpose… y'know?” You sit up, pretty little night dress falling down to cover your thighs. Your hands holding you up as you look around the night sky. The full moon tonight facilitated an impromptu shoving of a picnic blanket onto the balcony, warm glasses of chai tea emptied and hot in your bellies as you laid together to watch the moon.

Onyankopon rests his head with his hands behind his head, admiring you. He clears his throat, “I love you. Y'know that?”, “I do know that, you know I love you too?” You look at him over your shoulder before turning over and pressing your palms onto his stomach, he groans in faux pain. “Mhm,” He purrs, sitting up to clasp your hands in his own, tugging you onto his lap. “I know that, mama,” the moon was so bright. It illuminated the darkness around you both on the balcony and glimmered in his eyes. You stare. His moistened lips glistening in the light, you scoot closer to him. Chest pressed against your breasts and he sits handsomely, basking in your gaze and touch. Pretty white french tip acrylic nails with bow decor caresses his neck, scratching the back his neck and playing with his ears. Ony’ shivers lightly.

“Why you touchin’ on me like that, hm?” He bites back a smile when u tug at his earlobe. “Gimme a kiss,” You murmur, lips sealed by the clasp of his against yours. He pecks your lips several more times, Onyankopon really liked the texture of your lip gloss on his lips. Hands drag down his chest, following the tiny lines of his wife-beater: twirling the drawstring of his sweats.

“Do you wanna–”

“No,” Your eyes meet his, and Ony’ watches you as kind as ever, with his stupid handsome face. “No, baby,” He kisses his teeth, “Not g'na fuck you out here. Not on the balcony,” his cheeks deepen with dimples as he offers you a low chuckle.

“‘M not asking you to fuck me.” You roll your eyes teasingly,”And what's wrong with out here . . . we got blankets and pillows, s'comfy baby,” He's offered a sweet smile, the lavender rubber bands on your braces reminded him of the colours of the night, so he looks up at the sky.

The moon colours dusted blue and purple hues onto the clouds that bordered it. Reflecting and sparkling in your eyes and your face. Shit . . .

“What I'm asking, is that you make love to me, Ony’,” You whisper, resting your head in his neck. Onyankopon sucks a deep breath in between his teeth. “Grab some f'them pillows.” He uttered.

Ony’ scoots forward, shamelessly staring at your ass as you bunched up the pillows scattered across the balcony and stuffing them behind where he previously sat, blankets included and teacups pushed far aside. “Lay back right there,” , “Mkay . . . ,” You whisper, eyes flickering to his position while he only eyes you, fixing your braids behind your ears and tucking yourself comfortably back into the mound of pillows and blankets. “Mhm, pull it up,” Onyankopon turned to you and gave your night dress a light tug, eyes still focused everywhere else but your own.

You shuffled, clutching the little thing up above your hips, pretty panties scrunched up between your legs . . . you wore some random ones with rainbows on it. “Take it off, ma’,” Onyankopon ordered, his mouth muffled by the hand on his chin, finger pressing into his lips while he watched you. Gingerly, you hook your acrylics beneath the band slipping the panties off. Flustered, your legs remained snapped shut, though your puffy cunt still pushed itself out, feeling tickled and tingly at the touch of the cold air. It was the type of wind that blew before a cozy storm. And you nibble on your bottom lip. Ony’ grabs your knees, prying them apart. He watched how the moonshine glistened against your pussy.

He pushed your legs back ‘till your knees brushed the blankets behind you, “Ony’ don't stare,” a grumble escaped you, body warm. He hummed. Leaning down, Ony’ spread your pussy further with his thumbs before offering your clit a kiss. You gasp softly, expecting the upcoming stimulation anxiously, wishing he could just skip this part n’ pull his dick out. You drop your head back into the pillows, eyes to the stars and moon when you feel Onyankopon's tongue swirl over your hole before dipping in gently. He likes to take his time. He does this a few more times and you whine, eyes falling shut when you feel him drag his tongue over your clit. Then, he's going in; he's licking up n’ down your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth n’ tugging it to let it snap back into your pussy. You moan freely, thick into the air. The clouds above moved with the wind and suddenly the moon sent glows onto your face, so much so that you opened your teary eyes to see what was so bright on your face.

Onyankopon groans vibrations into your pussy when he sees your face, overcome with pleasure under the moonshine. He dips his face into you, licking circles about your cunt, kissing and suckling, and spitting, and slipping his tongue deep in you. “Ony’, Ony’ c'mon,” You whine, hands dancing behind his neck, pushing his face deeper into your cunt when you feel your clit throb hard. He makes circles around your clit, kissing it and once sucking it into his mouth. “Right there, right there,” You ache when he tilts his head and tongues a spot of your clit and you start grinding your body into his face. He thinks he might suffocate in the best way possible. Little glossy pearls of tears glide down the sides of your cheeks and tickle your ear. Head pressing back into the pillows when the rest of your body arches forward to Ony's mouth. You spread your legs so wide and they stiffened, all you feel is his tongue around your clit now pushing out undisturbed by your folds and you grab your braids tight. He stuffs two fingers inside you while maintaining his motions on your clit, sloppily fucking them into you, twisting them with each stroke and you think your ears are actually ringing. With it, you let out a sob and squeal, “Fuck! Fuck, oh-my-god, Ony–,” then it was silence, “Breath, mama, breathe,” Ony groaned, and suddenly you were gasping for air, cumming hard.

Your lips were quivering, feeling somewhat numb while Ony’ offered you some slow calming strokes with his fingers as you mellowed down. “Shit, you still want s’m cock after that?” He gave your clit a final kiss, seeing your bleary eyes as you sniffle and sigh. Your legs ached when you tried to move, closing them slowly. “Gimme a minute,” you pout and flop your head back down into the pillows, collecting yourself a bit, eyes blinking wearily. “S’ sensitive, m’ sorry,” Ony’ only re-fluffs some of the blankets and pillows that were now pushed askew, lifting your lower body by your legs while he pushed them back beneath you.

“Chill out,” He whispered, shifting to lay beside you and look at the sky. “S’ finna rain soon,” He announced,”Mhm, yeah,” You push your legs out, throwing your arms above you for a big stretch, squeezing your thighs tight to block your exposed pussy from the cold air. “Want head?” you peep at Ony’ who rests his hands behind his head. He shakes his head ‘no’ and stretches. You observe him and openly stare at his hard dick printing out of his sweats. Leaning forward, you rub, ever so gently, along the shaft while he watched you.

“‘Kay, get over right here,” Ony’ sat up moving from his spot, gesturing for you to situate yourself there with a quickness and brushing your hand off him. You huff, teasing, and pull your night dress back down as you crawl on your hands and knees to the pillows. Lay on your back and braids adjusted, Ony grabs your night dress, tugging it back up your body and kissing his teeth. “Keep playin’,” He gives your ass a playful smack and you giggle.

Grabbing your ankles, Onyankopon pushes your legs all the way back. What you'd like to call, ‘knee headphones’ the way they were in line with your ears. Some traces of creamy white release cooled under the air, clit puffing out and hole aching to be stimulated again. Ony’ adjusts himself above you, leaning close and tugging his sweats down, letting his pretty, dark dick fall out and slap your thigh. Fuck, you might cry. Little beads of pre-cum dripped from the tip, he was already girthy, yet his cock got thicker and meatier towards the center of the shaft. “Y'gonna go slow?” Ony lines up, pressing his tip into you and smiles,”Yea, mama, i’mma go slow,” He sinks and drawls out a long, ”Fuck.”

His heavy hand grips your thighs, pressing you down into the pillows. Onyankopon adjusts himself over you, letting his weight hold you down while he all but throbs in you. Legs now thrown over his shoulders and dark brown eyes staring deep into your own, fighting your weighted eyelids. “Bet’ not run, ma',” Onyankopon observes your face, licking his lips and giving you a quick peck, he resists indulging you when you pout and instead kisses about your damp cheeks and neck. “Oh-my-god,” you squeal when he begins to lift his hips out of you.

Onyankopon's hands cage your head, and the closeness leaves you nowhere to grab; thus your hands are left to mindlessly flop back onto the pillows. Nice and easy . . . proper n’ slow, he begins to rock his hips into you, “Why you suckin’ me in like that, mama?” He groans low. Ony’ let's his forehead rest on yours while the tip of his dick nudges the spongy mound inside you. “Ony’ your fuckin’ dick,” you whimper, “W’ssup wit’ it, huh?”, Onyankopon pressed his lips to yours in a wet kiss, grinning when he sees your pretty little eyes welling with tears. “Deeper–,” a sniffle, “Want it– deeper, shiiiit,” And he gives you just that, digging his fat dick deeper with each antagonizing stroke. Your cleavage bounces beneath your chin with each thwack of his hips into yours, tits having been firmly mushed into Ony's chest and you feel like you're gaping. Thighs burning n’ cunt stretching as he slowly builds the well in your tummy to milk you. “Mhm, watchu’ wanted?” You only groan and bite your lips, eyes screwed shut as you lay limp on the pillows getting fucked. Onyankopon gives your cheek a few slaps, “Answer me ‘fore I stop, don't play,” You force your eyes open and see Ony's eyes locked on yours. Brows furrowed and mouth ajar, that pussy felt fuckin’ good. “Yea, s’ what I wanted– daddy, fuck,” You let out a bratty sob when sloppily fucks into you faster before slowing again.

“Stick y'tongue out,” Onyankopon hums lowly, and you're not sure if you can focus on anything besides the smack of his hips and the squelching coming from his cock. You still comply, tongue lolling out from your mouth with heavy breathes. Ony’s dick throbs inside you, and he slurps your tongue into his mouth, suckling on it before locking your lips to his, tongue massaging yours. “Takin’ that fuckin’ dick, mhm,” His lips glide over your cheeks, fucking into you with fervor. He mumbles a chant of, “Shit, shit, shit,” pummeling you with his cock, reaching depths in your cunt you hadn't even discovered before. Ony’ seemed determined on knocking the fucking wind out of you and stuffing your swollen, little pussy full of dick. “Oh–,” wails escaping your lips, “Ohmygod unh, f– daddy, fuck,” you continue to mewl.

Your hands frantically grasp any and everything, your braids, Onyankopon's back, your ankles, the pillows; entire body gyrating as he fucks you. Onyankopon tongues your neck, licking about your ear, kissing your cheek. Your cunt feels sticky, s’ sloppy and warm and your entire body feels hot all over. Your eyes roll back and he's got you so trapped under him getting pounded that you can't even arch up into him. Cunt remaining spread at just the right angle and makes your legs quiver. Onyankopon let's out a tight groan and you feel the curve of his cock digging you hard. “G'nna make me fuckin’ cum. Squeezin’ on me like that, mama.” His sharp words muttered right into the shell of your ear making you clench hard. “Mu'fuckin’, sloppy pussy,” He lifts off you and pushes your legs above your head, crossing your ankles as he holds them together for leverage.

“N– Oh, no,no,no, Onya–!” you uttered out with gasps at the new angle. “Take it, take it, take it,” Ony’ murmured. Just like that, warmth squirted out of your cunt, dripping down his abdominals and pooling right between you where the hilt of his cock slapped into your folds as he kept drilling himself into you. “Mmmmph,” You can't help but cry and moan, cheeks feeling a bit warm with embarrassment yet it's overcome by the exponential throbbing of your clit. Your hand started tapping the pillows, shaking as you tried to tap out of whatever Ony’ was serving you right now. “C'mon,” He whispered, “I gotchu’.” It's like he senses it, thumbing your clit lightly.

“Need it! Need– it, daddy, shit,” You peer up at him.

“I know you do, baby, give it to me,” His commands echoes in your head, over and over. You're gasping, body jiggling off the pillows and slapping back up into his, “‘M . . . fuck, daddy,” sobbing and failing at formulating your words.

“‘M cumming, I'm cumming, oh my god.”

Your hips stiffen up and with each pelting thrust Ony’ cussed above you; a harsh wind blows and you think the coldness against your hot body makes you gush all over his cock while he cums alot. You blink the tears out of your eyes when Onyankopon fucks your cum mixture back into you a couple more times, before pulling out quick to avoid you being too sore and pained for him to move then plopping beside you on the pillows. Your legs fall carelessly below and all you hear besides silence are his harsh breaths and his deep voice asking you something you can't yet register, your clits throbbing too hard.

The moon really did look pretty tonight. Onyankopon does remind you of the sun. Shit, you felt like you were sitting among the fuckin’ stars.

When I say I like men- feral men. Men that whisper "fuck" everytime they see a picture of you. How they make it known you are theirs and how the scent of you causes their dicks to stand straight up. How everytime they look at you, you know they are going to pin you down and take your holes till you're sore. Where not a inch of you is without bites. Without bruises. Without a mark that you are completely off limits.

im not arguing with a man with big hands, whatever u say daddy

pretending to be asleep while he fucks you, only for him to whisper "i know you're awake" in your ear 😵‍💫😩

wake me up by settling your cock in between my ass. slide it up and down, softly groaning in my ear as precum leaks from your angry tip, anxious to slip into my wet hole. when i roll over onto my front, climb on top of me, spreading my thighs apart slowly to not wake me up. lick two fingers and slide them into my pussy, getting me just wet enough that it’s easy for your dick to push in. slowly push your cock in, easing it in inch by inch, my hole clenching softly as i get used to your girth. when i start to stir, take the plunge and start properly fucking me. slam your dick into me again and again, whispering in my ear “i’m so sorry, i had to, you looked so pretty” as you violently pound me into the bed.

visions — abby anderson.

summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).

notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.

You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.

The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.

What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.

In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable. 

You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.

“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.

You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”

Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.

Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”

You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”

Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”

Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”

“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.

“Would you like some help?”

“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”

“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”

People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.

Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.

Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.

“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it—  you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”

“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.

“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”

“Princess.”

Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”

“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”

“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”

“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”

“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”

“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”

You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”

You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”

Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.

“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”

Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”

—

You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.

“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.

“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.

“The school meeting.”

“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”

Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.

You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.

“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”

It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”

Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.

“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.

“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”

“Which Sophie?”

“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”

“Oh, I like that Sophie.”

“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”

Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”

You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.

“If Rue called you mom.”

Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”

Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”

“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”

Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”

“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”

She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”

“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”

Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”

Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”

“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”

After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.

“You think she wants me to be her mom?”

Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”

Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”

“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?

You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”

Okay but.... imagining myself breathless, lying into the pile of pillows only to be asked, "wanna clean it off for me" as they dangle the dripping strap above my lips.

Maybe even a "good girl, just like that" as I breathlessly lap my tongue around it, cleaning it just as they wanted while they have that smug look on their face.

Rubbing you through your underwear until you're dripping, needy, and begging to be fucked. I want you to make a mess in those panties for me, they're going in your mouth later so you can taste yourself when I breed you.

This is fucking delicious!!!!!!

Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception. 

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle. 

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door. 

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly. 

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out. 

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest. 

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady. 

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost. 

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman. 

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone. 

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand. 

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.” 

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble. 

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.” 

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out. 

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off. 

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

**  **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient. 

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.  

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus. 

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again. 

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you. 

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke. 

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk. 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart. 

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late. 

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.” 

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?” 

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana. 

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse. 

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana. 

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..” 

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?” 

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again. 

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect. 

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it. 

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town. 

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are. 

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed. 

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?” 

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly. 

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!” 

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food. 

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames. 

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?” 

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?” 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it. 

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl. 

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.” 

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside. 

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you. 

“Maybe.” You call back. 

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.  

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?” 

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?” 

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six” 

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off” 

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man. 

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine. 

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth. 

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable. 

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar. 

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar. 

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain. 

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?” 

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer” 

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things. 

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Four eye freak right here love representation 💜

A SLUT WITH GLASSES! — CHOSO KAMO!

SYNOPSIS...a drabble about how choso loves your glasses a little too much…if you know what I mean

INFO...choso x fem!reader, reader wears glasses, p in v, stomach bulge, blowjobs, cumming on face, cum eating, hair pulling, face fucking, spit, slapping

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

as a girly who wears glasses, I had to write this...

Choso loves how cute you look with your glasses, always pushing them up on the bridge of your nose when they slip down, or taking them off to clean and wipe them down. You always look so cute with them and he can’t help it. But what he loves more is when you wear them during sex, his poor baby can’t see without them. He’s fucking you rough, pulling your hair and forcing you to watch the way his cock disappears in your wet cunt, glasses falling off your face, the lenses fogging up as you try to keep them on. “Pay attention sweetheart, look at the bulge,” He snickers, watching the way his cock reached your guts, quite literally.

Don’t get him started on when you give him a blowjob, looking up at him over your glasses, plump lips wrapped around his cock. He has a fistful of hair in his hand, fucking your face, spit drooling everywhere. Tears stream down your cheeks as you choke on his dick, adjusting your glasses for the millionth time when he gives a chance to breathe. “Such a pretty mess you are.” He slaps your face before shoving his cock back down your throat again. Teary eyes stare up at him when he presses your nose against his pelvis. You acted like such a whore for him he loved it.

Next thing you know, he’s cumming on your face, sticky string of cum coating your glasses and tongue. You proudly swallow, smiling up at him. He slaps his dick on your tongue, rubbing it against your face and your glasses of course. “You got it on my glasses, Cho,” you pout, taking them off.

He chuckles, “sorry, princess.” He caresses you head, looking down at you as you lick the cum off of them. Of course a slut like you doesn’t let a drop go to waste. Goddamn, does he love those glasses. If you ever get contacts, he doesn’t know how he’ll manage.

Calling my girlfriend ‘Friend’

n/a: I have made the decision that ALL MINE will end in chapter 6, but it's going to be a long one... maybe 3K so I'll post it maybe next week!! idk Enjoy the mini chapter<3333

INDEX

Ellie and you were in the parking lot of the mall inside the car, you have seen this trend all around and you wanted to do it to see her reaction.

“Hi everyone! A lot of you have been asking…” you set the phone straight in a corner “how we met, so me and my friend-”

“Friend?” she says looking at you and then the backseat “There’s only me and you, what friend?”

“Rude- We met through some friends, we’ve been friends since then and we are going to keep being friends” you were trying to hold your laugh as she look you dead in the eye pressing her tongue against her cheek

“Delete that and start over”

“Why, friend?”

“I’m your GIRLfriend, not your friend, start over” She tries to grab the phone but you grab it first, not strong enough cause it felt and now you two were fighting to see who was going to get it first. The phone stops recording and you can’t stop laughing. “That better be a trend on tiktok, you’re sleeping on the couch today”

“We don’t even have a couch yet, give me my phone, don’t delete it! You look cute anyways”

She has it in her hand, rewatching the video, she looks at you with an upset face “If you give me a kiss, I might give it back, you made me upset, I could use some lovin’. ”

“You are so needy” You said before giving her a little peck, she grabbed your face making you stay close to her.

“I said a kiss, like this” She close the little space between both of your mouths as kisses you softly.

Taglist;; @lovelyxbaby @deadbolted @mikellie

Dream girl

Pretend I'm a stranger

n/a: this is a mini-series of Tiktok Couple Trends w/Ellie that I looooove and I also wanted to write fluff moments!! Also we can slowly see how their relationship develops slowly, this will be short chapter, not longs btw.

INDEX

“Okay, babe, one moment,” Ellie said, setting up the phone. “So, we are at Target and I’m going to pretend to be a stranger trying to flirt with you, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you agree while looking at some candles for the apartment.

“Hey, mama,” she comes up to you with a smirk, rubbing her hands together like a total player.

“Hey,” you say nicely, trying not to laugh when her smile drops.

“Why are you saying ‘hey’ for? You have a girl already; don’t say ‘hey’ to nobody.”

“I’m trying to be nice?”

“Don’t be! Again, do it right,” she goes to the phone and cuts to start recording a second take. “Hi, pretty thing.”

You ignore her this time and keep looking at the candles; she nods satisfied.

“This candle smells just as good as you,” she grabs one, smelling it a little bit. It does smell truly good.

“For real? Let me smell it,” you try to grab it, brushing her fingers for a second, but she screams.

“Why are you touching another girl’s hand?!”

“I just wanted to smell the candle; I was not flirting.” Your laugh can be heard throughout the whole aisle; Ellie furrows her brows as she gazes at you from top to bottom.

“Oh, you ain’t going to shop alone again; next thing I know you’re leaving me for some candles.”

“Stop the drama, oh my god!” You fan your face; this was rather amusing. “Let’s try again; I swear I’ll do it better.”

Ellie shakes her head in disappointment while cuts the video and presses record again. “Well, hello there, beauti-”

“I’M MARRIED!” You scream very loud, and burst out laughing the next second. Ellie joins your laughter after she’s out of her shock and goes to end the video.

“I loved that; we should get married,” she said, saving her phone in her back pocket.

“First, help me buy things for our apartment, yeah?”

Pussy so good he broke the couch

ʚ ft. Perv Roomate Geto

ʚ cont: fem reader, rough sex, dirty talk, spit, unprotected sex, choking, praise, 1 face slap, spit, manhandling, teasing, sexual tension, consensual photography 

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You and your roommate Geto had quite the routine down by now. The two of you would turn off all the lights in the house except for the small side table lamp next to the couch before you gathered the essentials, blankets, pillows, and snacks. Only the snacks often were forgotten about. Without fail about twenty minutes into the movie, Geto would spread his arm out on the back of the couch, scooting closer to you as he did so. That's how it always started.

Of course, when he made such an obvious move like that, you couldn't just ignore him, right? So you scooted closer to him as well, closing the gap between you as you lay your head down on his shoulder, his body heat seeping into your skin. Suguru would soon abandon grabbing the back of the couch and scoot his arm forward, placing his arm around your shoulders.

The entire time the two of you stayed silent, no one uttering so much as a work to the other as the tension in the room grew. Not even when Suguru removed his arm from the back of you and brought it around to grab onto your thigh, his large, warm hand massaging the skin. This is usually where you start to really feel it. Your mouth runs dry, your palms get sweaty, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the ache.

"You okay?" Geto always asked, noticing how hot you were getting, and you always answered with a smile and a nod, both of you pretending you had no idea what was going on despite the way you looked at each other like you wanted to devour the other. Suguru would slide his hand higher and higher, teasing his pinky on the inside of your thigh, making your breathing pick up.

Now Geto was fully hard and aching in his pants, thank god for the blanket draped across the two of you. Not like you seeing how hard he was matters when he would be buried balls deep inside you in a couple of minutes. Even when Geto started rubbing his thick fingers against your clothed pussy, making your heart rate spike, your breath obviously louder and more stuttered now, he kept his eyes on the TV, pretending to watch the movie as if he wasn't touching your cunt.

Only when you grabbed his wrist and finally moaned out his name so sweetly, breaking the silence, did the two of you give up the innocent act and give in to your desire. This night was no different, and Suguru was currently caging you in with his strong arms, his cock threatening to poke your cervix, as he pounded you into the couch.

"That's all you f-fucking got? G-give it to me Suguru." You moaned, your words coming out broken and stuttered despite your challenging words and cocky smile to match. Suguru shook his head as he wet his lips with his tongue, his hips never letting up inside you. "You want it harder? Huh?" He groaned against your lips, breathing in your moans, making him dizzy.

You wrapped your arms harder around his neck, pulling him closer against you. Each time he thrust his hips inside you, his hard pelvis was rubbing perfectly against your swollen clit, making your toes curl. "Yeah, give it to me harder." You moaned, your words a teasing barely-there whisper against his lips, making him groan in response, his face already flushed from feeling how tight and wet you felt around him.

"You sure? You look like you can barely keep up with this pace." Geto teased, laughing as he raked his eyes across your face, keeping his hips moving. Suguru pulled his lip between his teeth when you squeezed hard around him, his cock throbbing at the feeling. "You s-sure you're the one who can't handle it?" You teased back, squeezing your legs around his hips, pressing his cock deeper inside you when he thrust in.

You opened your mouth a hairs length away from his lips, feigning a kiss which he tried to reciprocate; his own lips parted expectantly; before you whispered, "You seem like you're about to cum already, need to take a break?" Suguru felt the vein in his forehead pop out at your words. The smile on your face was quickly wiped off as your brows knit together when Suguru's hand constricted around your throat, shutting down any more teasing words from you.

"You're so fucking smart today huh? Let's see who cums first." Geto groaned, emphasizing his words by squeezing his hand harder around your throat. The action made stars arise in your vision, it felt so fucking good when he choke you, the feeling always went straight to your cock. He closed the distance between your lips at the same time he picked up his pace. If his hips weren't bullying you before, they sure as hell were now.

You tried to keep up with the pace of Geto's tongue and he forced it against yours, overpowering you with it just like he was doing with his body against yours. Geto was fucking you so hard, his cock filling you up entirely, leaving no part of your walls untouched as he buried himself balls deep over and over. Your moans were being forced out of your mouth and into Geto's by his ruthless hips, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back.

You moved your tongue weakly against his, your head starting to go dumb from the reduced air intake your lungs were getting thanks to his iron grip on your lungs. You were granted a little reprieve when he pulled away from your lips and sat back on his heels, your legs forced apart as they rested on his thighs. Geto pulled the fat of your upper thigh against him to make sure he was as close as possible before he started fucking into you again, somehow harder.

This new position was making him feel so much deeper. Your eyes repeatedly rolled back in your head as nothing but incoherent moans and whines left your lips, echoing throughout the room, the movie playing quietly in the backround still. You gripped Geto's wrist for support with both of your hands, the action only making him squeeze your throat tighter.

He shook his head watching your body squirm around against the cushions, he couldn't decide if you were trying to escape his cock or get more of it, it was cute. Suguru's face and chest were now the same color, beat red, as your pussy made him go dumb, his brain on autopilot telling him "harder, harder, harder, don't stop, make her cum." 

"Such a filthy girl." Suguru groaned, a pussydrunk smile on his face as he took in your tits jiggling in every direction from the force of his thrusts. "F-uck S-suguruuu-" You tried to cry, pressing your thighs together tightly around his waist. "'S that feel good? 'M I fucking you nice n deep how you like it?" He asked, his balls slapping against your ass making a loud, lewd sound emanate into the room.

You nodded your head furiously in his hold while you repeated, "Yesyesyes 's fucking deep-" Over and over. Geto couldn't believe how someone so fucked out could still manage to look so beautiful. Tears and sweat were sliding down your cheeks and mixing into one, your flyaways were sticking to your forehead and your body was shaking and trembling with every thrust.

Geto released his hand from around your throat before quickly stuffing two fingers into your open mouth. You were too fucked out to close your lips around them, just letting your tongue swirl around his fingers, drool dripping down your chin. "You're so fucking hot, takin' my cock so good pretty girl." He praised, shaking his head at how shameless you were.

The couch made a loud creaking sound with every thrust, challenging the volume of your own moans. It did that every time though, both of you learning over time to tune it out as the sound soon became backround noise just like the TV. Geto's cock leaked pre-cum into your cunt every time you squeezed around him, becoming nothing more than added wetness as he continued thrusting inside you.

He tipped his head back and let his eyes fall shut as he relished in how warm and tight you were, making his balls throb with the need for release but he could tell you were getting close. Suguru hooked his fingers on the inside of your cheek, stretching your mouth open before he leaned over you and gripped your jaw with the other. You were jolted back to reality when Geto spat right on your tongue, your mouth closing instinctively, his fingers still inside, as you swallowed what he gave you.

Suguru sat back up and grinned, his cock throbbing at how eagerly you swallowed for him. He pulled his fingers out from your wet mouth before he pulled his hand back and left a small smack on your face, the noise echoing through the room. You smiled at the feeling, your cheek stinging a bit from where he just hit you, but it was quickly replaced by a kiss as he was now on top of you again, his body caging you in.

"What are you smiling for, huhh? You like gettin' hit?" Suguru teased, squishing your cheeks together. You nodded dumbly at his words, trying to rock your hips back up into him as you kept your cloudy eyes on his. Suguru smiled while shaking his head at you, "so. fucking. dirty." He groaned, emphasizing his words with his hips.

You moaned against his lips when he crashed his face against yours, his hand moving from your jaw to down between your bodies as he found your clit with ease, rubbing against it using small, quick circles. Your moans increased in pitch as you whined against him, his mouth swallowing up your sounds. Your legs shook with oversensitivity. His cock was steadily beating against the most sensitive parts inside you, and now he was rubbing your clit just right? Fuck, it was making you go crazy.

With your arms now snugly around his shoulders, you tried tapping repeatedly against them, a small smacking sound being created from how needily you were hitting him. "Too much? Gonna cum?" Geto teased as he pulled away from your lips. Your back arched off the cushions, your head tipping back with it as you felt your orgasm build up steadily inside you. "F-fuck, fuck don't stop- d-don't fucking stop-" You begged, your eyebrows pinching together with pleasure. 

Suguru's insatiable lips found your neck when you tipped it back. His lips and tongue working together against your skin to suck hickeys and lick fat, hot stripes against you followed by kisses. Just when you were about to be pushed over the edge by Geto's fat cock that was fucking you so well, you heard a loud cracking sound followed by a crash. 

Geto's cock slipped out of you as the couch split in two, your body falling into the crevice, Geto's arms pinning around you. "Wha-" You mouthed, feeling a slight ache in your lower back from where you had hit the broken wood. Your orgasm had fizzled away the instant the couch broke, but you still felt that tight ball of need deep in your tummy.

While you were trying to put together what just happened using your fuzzy, fucked out brain, Geto's large hand manhandling you took you out of it as you were placed on the floor next to the now broken couch on all fours. "W-wait the-" Your words were cut off as Geto slid his cock back inside you all at once, a groan leaving your lips simultaneously.

Geto seemed to be in a trance as he picked up right where he left off, fucking into you hard and quick, his hand dipping under your body to rub against your clit. "S-suguruu-" You whined, reaching for his hand. You must've forgotten you needed your arms to hold yourself up because as you gripped his wrist between your legs from under you, the front half of your body fell forward against the floor. Thank god for the plush carpet under your face.

"Cum for me, I can feel how close you are, cmon give it to me, n-need to feel it." Geto groaned, his words rushed and voice deep as he spoke. All of his actions were full of lust, he was more fucked out than you now. His other hand grabbed the fat of your ass and used that grip to pull you back against him harder, making his cock ruthlessly pound against your g-spot.

Geto's pace was getting sloppier, and you could feel how often he was twitching inside you, he was about to cum. Your knees pressed together and your feet kicked up between Geto's legs, fluttering as you were worked up to your orgasm again. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as he kept rubbing your clit, sloppy, messy circles doing the job just right. "Ohhhmygod-" You moaned through your teeth, your eyes rolling back in your head as you felt your orgasm crash over you.

Geto's body fell on top of yours, his hand caging you in by your head as he finished with you, releasing rope after rope of hot cum deep in your walls as your cunt pulsed around him, milking the cum from his balls. The two of your moans mixed together so sweetly, his hot breath tickling by your ear as his body went limp, save for his hips that kept shallowly, weakly thrusting his cock inside you, making sure he filled you up nice and deep.

"Sugu..." You whined, turning your head toward him. Geto let you grab his cheek and pull him down towards you, his lips meeting your own in a sweeter kiss, still a little fast, but more controlled. You pulled away from his lips after a moment to catch your breath, your lips parting with mutual pants as you rested your head between your arms on the ground in front of you. 

Geto sat up and slowly pulled his hips back, both of you groaning at the oversensitivity. You could feel the strange and slightly uncomfortable feeling of Geto's cum chasing his cock as it dripped from your hole, sliding down your thigh. "mmmmmmm...." You groaned in disgust, your thighs pressing together to stop any more from coming out, to no avail of course.

You felt Geto's fingers pull your pussy lips apart as he oggled his masterpiece before you heard the camera click of your roommate taking a picture, your body getting illuminated by the light. Geto retracted his thumb from your cunt as he whistled, staring at his phone. You pushed yourself up on shaky arms and sat on your sore bottom, now facing him. "Did you just take a picture of my cunt?" You asked, looking at him incredulously.

You didn't care about him taking pictures. He'd done it before and you knew he was too weirdly possessive over you to show anyone else. "Yeah." He smiled, turning his phone around to face you. You were met with the apps on his home screen, only they were sitting on a unique backround, your dripping cunt. "Suguru you are NOT using my pussy as your homescreen you freak." You chastized, trying to snatch his phone out of his hand.

He retracted it out of your reach and placed it on the side table behind him before he faced you again. "It's hot, no one goes into my phone anyways." He shrugged, smiling at you, his face still red. You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to argue right now. You reached out and brushed his hair out of his face before you raked your hand down his scalp, practically making the dark-haired man purr. "Feels good." He said, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch.

"I bet it does." You responded, scratching the back of his head. "You know what's not gonna feel good though?" You asked, keeping a sweet and innocent smile on your face for him to see when he opened his eyes, looking at you quizzically. "Your bank account when you get done buying me a new couch." 

Suguru's face immediately fell into a frown, a bit of a dramatic one as he glanced over at the very broken couch before back to you. "It was an accident." He said pouting. "I knowww~" You cooed, smiling at him through the irritation, "A six thousand dollar accident!!" You finished, dropping your hand and patting him on the thigh. "Good luck!! I want a grey couch this time by the way." You smiled, rubbing his thigh.

Thinking about an argument scenario with abby, where you’re so fucking mad at her—but she just keeps trying to get you to fuck with her.

Of course—not an actual argument that would require a civilized or serious conversation, but more like a playful argument that you just happened to be way too invested in. (ex: an argument over what dip is better for chips, comparing you and hers favorite shows, etc. not actual serious stuff!) You could be furious out of your own mind—annoyed, aggravated, in the mood to throw a literal table at her, and all she would do is baby you.

You had been arguing about this for the past half hour, and she still had the audacity to sit here and smirk at you while she manspreaded on the couch. You were pacing around the room, rolling your eyes and trying to explain to her the problem at hand. “abby fucking anderson—just, god.” you said with the deepest sigh you’ve ever taken to put emphasis on how frustrated you really were. “Y’know what? We’ll just order doordash. God—you can’t fuckin’ take this seriously.”

Abby pouted with a laugh that sounded way too amused than it should’ve, which only made you even closer to actually throwing a table at her or something. She chuckles provokingly, “Aww, is my baby upset? does she just need a good fuck to keep her back in her place?” She said in such a way that bothered you way too much than it should have. You rolled your eyes and practically yelped, “abby—my fucking god.”

She looked at you teasingly with a cheeky smile on her face, “Yes pretty girl?”

You sighed, “Just—just be quiet. For gods sake.”

-

Next thing you know, you’re crumbling before her eyes as you bounced up and down on her 7 inch strap, the tip of it reaching the rim of your cervix.

She keeps her hands on your waist, being sure to give you enough support you need to ride her properly—but being sure to still also give you a little bit of a hard time.

She said with a sly smile, “Fuck…This is all my baby needed? Was some good cock? Hm?” She paused to thrust up into you, causing you to whimper. “Some good dick to make her shut up? Realize her place, Yeah?”

You nodded weakly, depending on her for practically giving your limbs all the stability it needed—looking at her with fucked out eyes. “M-mhhmm…”

She made sure to make you say it—to say you lost with your own mouth. “Won’t talk back to me anymore, won’t you baby?”

You nodded obediently like you did the past hundred times shes made you cum, “mmm—mmhmmm….w-wont…t-talk…” you paused to catch your breath, “..b-back..”

She pulled you close to her with a satisfied smile, “Atta girl.”

She knew she could dumb you down, no matter what.

let me tell you about the guys who are obssesed with your cute glasses. if you tell him you're gonna put your glasses away when you have sex, he insists on you keeping them on. he has to shut his eyes when you finally take him in your mouth. the looks on your face you're wearing while you peek at him thru your glasses is too much for him. it's not even your tongue that's making him this weak, it's your glasses.

"let me give you a break." he tells you, pulling his cock from your mouth.

"i know, baby." he coos when you whine at the loss of the weight of his cock. you want him back inside.

he grabs your chin with one hand while he strokes himself with the other. sometimes he gets so carried away that the bumps his cock on your nose, making your giggle. but he's just too lost because of your glasses.

"im gonna cum, baby." he groans, feeling the orgasm rushing thru his body. suddently, white ropes of cum paint your face, landing right at your glasses. you go to wipe them clean, but he stops you, emptying his last drops on them to prohibit you from seeing.

"good girl," he tells you, cradling your head in his hands, "now you look like you're mine."

The sweetest thing 💖

Thinking about Takuma Ino, who becomes a father so young when you fall unexpectedly pregnant. Thinking about the fear in your eyes, the shaking hands going to hold each other's, the positive test clasped between them. The way Takuma reassures you; "it's okay, it's okay, I always wanted to be a dad...sure, not this soon-- but we'll be fine. Better than fine, we'll be great."

The way Takuma goes for a walk that night, after you've cried yourself to sleep, crouching down in an alleyway with his beanie'd head in his hands, wondering how he could possibly ever be a good father. Wanting to marry you, to do things 'right', but afraid you'd think he only wanted to marry you because of the pregnancy.

The way Takuma arrives on his mother's doorstep (the mother who raised him alone, young, single) in the dead of night, pale-faced. The way his mother holds him as he cries and apologises at the dining room table, his face in her robed chest. The way she cups his face, and stares into his eyes; "we can do this, together, the right way. You're a good boy. Now be a good man."

The way Takuma learns to be a father, from his mother, who was his whole world. The way Takuma works himself to the bone, squirrelling money away, booking in with estate agents to go and view your first home together in a way that makes your hormonal heart clench.

The way Takuma's head hits the pillow, weary after working all night, then comes straight up again as he hears you vomiting in the bathroom, kneeling behind you to stroke your hair back, holding you gently round the waist on the tiled floor; "attagirl...it'll be better soon, right? Toughest girl I know. Doin' such a great job."

The way Takuma takes up embroidery, buying cheap plain clothes for the baby, because he can't afford much, but adding small artistic touches of beauty; a frog with a toadstool hat, a little trailing succulent vine, a shooting star.

The way Takuma is bright and excited; there for every scan, every class, every milestone. The way Takuma puts on a brave face. The way Takuma hides in the staffroom at work, his head in his hands, creaking under the weight of responsibility. The way he feels a strong hand clasp his shoulder, a beige suit, a blue shirt, a leopard print tie at the corner of his eye; "I know you're going to say no...but I'd like to buy a gift. For both of you. For the baby."

The way Takuma feels so ashamed for accepting help; the way a crib, a beautiful buggy, a snug and safe car seat, all gradually arrive at your new home. The way he tries to insist on paying Nanami Kento back. Nanami naturally refuses, pretends to be inordinately interested in his newspaper.

The way Takuma can't help but buy the baby a few beanies. The way you retaliate by buying an outfit that looks just like Ino's. He is thrilled.

The way Takuma's embroidery has advanced so well, he makes four little Auspicious Beasts to hang from a mobile above the crib.

The way Takuma paints beautiful, geometric, zany black and white shapes on the wall in the baby's bedroom; "They only see black, white and red at first babe. Neat, right?"

The way Takuma is pale throughout your labour, his eyes feverish, your pain so much harder than any battle he's ever been to. The way his tears hit him in a huge whooshing breath, a head-holding groan of relief when his baby son is placed on your chest, wet and crying, a little angry clenched face. The way Takuma rests his cheek on his arm at the top of your bed, gazing down and sniffling as his son holds his finger.

The way Takuma takes you both home, proud, woefully in love, still wondering how he's ever going to grow up and be a man, without realising he's already so much more of a man than so many others in this world.

Thinking about young dad Takuma Ino.

So fine💞

Did this without any references, just pure imagination and memory so it looks wonky..

This is a want not a need

satoru putting a vibrator wand on your clit and no matter how much you beg and plead, he’ll keep it there and laugh at you while he does it.

what really turned him on, though, was putting a cloth inside or around your mouth and watching your facial reaction as you get overstimulated.

your chest is rising and falling every time he turns the speed on the wand faster. it hurts so bad, but you keep cumming.

“you want me to believe you want to stop when you’re squirting?” taking the wand, moving it away, and swiping the squirt that comes off.

he got off to you, begging with your eyes and your whimpers.

your clit and hole were sore by the time he got done with you, and he’s never actually done with you.

he even got a dildo machine and would put you in front of it, restrain you, and put the wand on your clit.

the double pleasure you received from that died out quickly when you got overstimulated, with tears rushing down your face and muffled cries from beneath the cloth.

satoru would just stare at you and laugh while his hard-on twitched in his pants; he fucking loved it.

“there you go, you can keep going.” he’ll coo from the corner as his eyes trailed over every bit of your body as he watched you get fucked out of your mind.

this would go on for hours and hours—just hours of you getting fucked by this machine and overstimulated by the wand.

after he got tired of watching, satoru would fuck you himself, and feeling his dick pulse inside, shortly after cum inside you, it felt good.

“you love this shit don’t you, hm?” his hands on your breasts, squeezing them as he pushes into you once more, his dick passing your sweet spot.

your body became extra sensitive to the toys, so every time he touched you, your pussy would get wet and your nipples would get hard.

even when he would fuck you, you would cum in under five minutes, which made satoru want to abuse your pussy even more.

slapping it, putting a vibrating dildo inside of you—anything you can think of—he did it, and it had you jerking with pleasure.

one time, satoru put you on a chair, put the vibrator under you, and had you stay there for hours.

by the time he came back, the chair and floor were soaked in your fluids, your eyes rolled back, and your body was jumping from each tiny orgasm that followed.

“don’t tell me you don’t like this shit when you cum over yourself.” his words are soft as he looks down at you.

He liked seeing you get overstimulated; he liked putting his fingers inside of you and feeling your wetness coat his fingers; he liked hearing your pleads and whimpers.

no matter what, he was going to torture your clit, if your pussy wasn’t aching or if you weren’t begging him to stop by the end of the night, he'd start over, and it'd be even more intense.

if one toy dies, he’ll go to the other, and the cycle will repeat. when he was done teasing you, nothing would come out of your mouth.

like they disappeared; you couldn’t even think.

that’s why, after a certain time of being fucked silly, you’ll just accept the pleasure that came and sink into the overstimulation.

the only way you could communicate with him was through your moans and whimpers, like the slut you are.

I need this now💞💞

“Come on princess, tell me what you want” he spoke, his velvety voice making you clench around his still fingers.

You managed to let out a desperate moan, hips trying to buck down onto his thick digits.

You yelped at the slap he gave straight to your clit, “Uh, uh, good girls listen right” he mused, letting his hand soothe over your clit in smooth circles as an apology for the slap.

“Mhmm”you hum, a choked sob leaving your lips as his slow circles sent harsh sparks of pleasure through your sensitive limbs.

The hand around your neck tightened when he heard your response , “you know better,” he scolded. “Use your damn words”

“M’sorry” you spoke, tears slipping down your cheek when he slapped your pussy again. “You love pissing me off, is that how you apologize to me?”

“I'm sorry daddy, I'll listen like a good girl, I promise”you whimpered.

Your words made him grin and his circles on your clit fastened. “There we go baby, now do what I ask and tell me what you want from me”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, the plea for his big fat cock threatening to spill out of you just like your juices were spilling out onto your boyfriend's pants. At your silence he landed a set of repeated slaps on your crying cunt while his other hand kept it’s tight grip on your neck .You didn’t mean to cum, you swore you didn’t. But you couldn’t help the way you squirted, legs quaking and eyes rolling back in your head when the pleasure grew to be too much.

Your boyfriend frowned as he watched you pathetically cum all over him.“Now you’re cumming without permission” he rolled his eyes.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Eren,Geto,Toji,Gojo,Uzui,Chishiya,Obanai,Miguel

I wouldn’t minded being sandwiched between them

Hockey player Bakugou and Izuku are so fucking aggressive on the ice everyone expects it of Katsuki but not too many people expect it from sunshine Izuku, especially since a lot doesn't get under his skin.

You make sure to catch your favorite team every chance you get. Bundled up and right next to the ice with the plexiglass where blood and sweat is often smeared from rough checks.

Tonight you're lucky enough to not only be graced by Izuku shoving someone roughly into the ice with the nastiest snarl on his face before he makes eye contact with you and suddenly his sunshine smile is back and his eyes are crinkling in the corners.

You also get Katsuki who grunts and growls as he slams the guys head into the plexiglass shoving him down into the ice and when he looks up at you his mean snark turns into a cocky smirk and a wink is sent your way.

As a person with glasses this it right here💖💖💖

cw: f!reader, reader wears glasses, facials n cumshots, this is self indulgent izuku filth ૮>ﻌ < აﾉ”

izuku didn’t know exactly what it was that drove him so crazy about your glasses. it was something so cute about the way they constantly slipped to the tip over your round nose. he’d never get enough of the way you pushed them up without a second thought, so much so it was basically a nervous tic. he liked the bigger frames best, those cartoonish, coke-rimmed glasses that made your eyes all wide and doe like. you were precious, but the imagery always made his cock twitch in his pants. it was embarrassing, the way his body behaved like that of a teenager, but he wanted to do nothing more than paint your face.

….

he gets his way soon enough, when you’re down on your knees, nuzzling your soft lips against his slippery cock that was lubed up with frothy bubbles of saliva. you were a fucking masterpiece as you spread the mess against your cheeks, your nose..your glasses. his tip kept hitting against the frames, smudging them, pushing them up for you like your own dainty fingers usually would. your hand lifted to pluck them from your nose but he stopped you just as your messy mascara came into view.

“leave them…”

your pretty eyebrows knitted together as his palm went to hold at the back of your head. his other hand, much larger than your own, took ahold of his own shaft, pumping himself like he normally did when he was close. a wanton groan left his lips at the sight of your confusion, god you looked so fucking innocent like this. he had to ruin it, had to dirty that pristine picture. nothing showed a doll was well loved better than when it was a wreck, well used and utterly destroyed.

“i want to paint this pretty face, you’ll l-let me won’t you? you’ll be so good for me, huh?”

and you were never one to deny him and his freckled cheeks, nodding dumbly along with his gentle coercion. his grip tightened in your hair as he tilted your head back, held you in place to take his load. it didn’t take long with the view of your smeared tinted gloss, the wetness of your lashes all clumped and spider-liked with makeup. he came at the sight of your tongue rolling out in invitation, his a grunt he shot thick white ropes of cum against your frames, your face, your tongue. and when he finished wringing his cock dry, he spread his seed along your glasses while you panted and keened.

“there’s my girl, prettier than any picasso…give me a smile won’t you?”

how could you say no?

☆

fruit bats [ @neon-gothicc @bakubunny @bookcluberror @kunigamisgirl @dizazter-dragoon @jazzafayesworld @cherriluvs35 @dreamcastgirl99 @pastelbakugou @ladybirdk @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @maddietries ]

ask me to be ok the fruit bat taglist!! <3 ↑

banner cred: @ / neon-gothicc

Like if she could break me it be a dream come true 💖💖

https://www.tumblr.com/svccubuss/738669179535835136/having-your-head-pushed-down-further-into-the Ok but this with Abby?!?!

[link to post] oh anon...... i want her to break me in half like a glowstick

18+ minors dni

abby is strong, she knows she is. having all that strength is great for her day to day life, of course. it's also great for when she needs to keep you in place and fuck you like you deserve.

"keep your fucking hips up," she huffs, shuffling forward on the bed so that your ass is squished up against her pelvis, no where to run. she's grinding against you, strap reaching the spot that always ends in the bed being soaked when you're both finished and utterly spent.

you're practically rendered speechless, mouth wide and eyes rolled to the back of your head as you take and take, take whatever she gives you.

you feel abby's hand leave your hip and press against the side of your head, smooshing your face against the duvet, wet from your spit, her spit and the tears you didn't even realise were leaking from the corners of your eyes. her other hand smooths its way from your right hip, travelling up your back and pressing down between your shoulder blades, trapping you in place.

she's relentless- pressing all of her weight down onto you as she fucks you, the slapping of your ass against her pelvis spurring her on as she watches you with heavy eyes- watches for any sign that you can't breathe or are uncomfortable but when you catch her gaze and smile lazily, lip caught between your bottom teeth, she knows you like it. like how much she could easily just break you if she wanted to.

no matter how much bigger or smaller you are she'll always be strong enough to fuck you just right, she'll always be your strong girl <3

mdni

“you gonna be my good girl?” abby whispers, her words raspy and low, her fingertips gently brushing down your sides before she grips at your hips and slowly sinks you down onto her strap.

you nod, wrapping your arms around her neck, your lips seeking out hers in a hungry kiss which leaves you moaning into her mouth as she finally bottoms out, all 7 inches of her cock buried deep within your needy cunt.

she pulls away from the kiss with a smug smile, trailing wet kisses and gentle bites along your jaw while she keeps you grounded with her rough hands still clinging to your hips which keep you from bouncing or grinding into her. “nuh uh. not yet, bunny.”

you whine impatiently, grabbing at her muscly forearms for her to loosen her grip a little and she reluctantly caves in a couple seconds later, instead using her hands to guide you as you start to bounce, strap hitting deeper each time she pulls you up and slams you back down, little gasps and whines of her name leaving your lips.

“there you go.” she mutters, moving her thumb to slowly rub at your clit as you start to bounce without any help from abby. the cocky grin on her face never leaving as she leans back against the pillows, her free arm moving to rest behind her head while her thumb circles your swollen clit. “mhm just like that…always my good girl.”

It’s so good but it’s sad🥲🥲

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

word count: 17.8k

summary: bakugou is yours, and you're his, but what happens when distance and dreams get in the way of your relationship? dating a pro hero isn't easy, and neither of you will settle for just enough.

tags: 5 times trope (5 times you break each other’s hearts), angst+fluff, lovers to exes to fwb to strangers, pro hero bakugou x fem!reader, time skip towards the end, it's messy and ugly. also trans!bakugou, pussy eating and soft sex (he doesn't have sex, he makes love), demi coded bakugou because i said so

bonus:

playlist

bakugou's past (ao3 link)

ao3 fic link

1.(the beginning of an end)

“You know what this means, right?” 

The guests have left and it’s now only you and him in the shared apartment. Dinner was nice, everyone was happy and celebrating your boyfriend’s achievement. He had been offered a job position as a rookie in a really good hero agency. Abroad. Hours away from you. 

“Can we not do this now? Let's wait until tomorrow, please.” You don’t beg. Maybe he’ll take in your tensed shoulders and do you the favor, carrying out the fake act for a while longer. Just one more night with him in your arms. 

Bakugou’s eyes burn into the side of your neck as you do the dishes. He’s next to you drying and putting them away. “We’ll have to talk about it eventually.” Your smile is gone. It doesn’t really matter, it was as real as purple haired dogs- you can’t fool me. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Your hands burn at his accusation. Or maybe it’s just the tap water, too hot for your skin but the perfect temperature to get rid of the grease on your plates. 

“Hm.” 

Ashy blonde hair makes its way onto your right shoulder. Bakugou leans on you, letting part of his body weight fall and taking you down with him. You drop the ceramic and use both your arms to steady him, grabbing his looming frame and holding him with the help of your hip. Like a big ass baby. 

“Katsuki stop!” He doesn’t budge. “Katsuki! You’re gonna make us fall!” There’s the beginning of a laugh bubbling up in your throat, so you push it down. “Seriously, stop.”

The giant man stands up, properly this time, and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you flush against him, kisses your temple and makes his way down to your lips, catching them unguarded and eagerly waiting. You melt into him, what else could you do? If it’s your last night with him, if it’s his last night being yours. 

Somehow you manage to escape his embrace with the excuse of a much-needed shower. He offers to join but you decline. You have to get used to showering alone. 

Bedtime is long past, but he’s still awake. Fighting for his life, but awake. The book between his hands threatens to fall on his chest. You observe him from the bathroom door as he blinks comically to keep the sleepiness away. 

“Fucking finally.” He mutters as you shuffle in next to him, placing the book on his nightstand and taking off his reading glasses.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you always go to bed early.” Please, don’t do it now. 

Bakugou studies your face for a moment, opening his mouth and closing it again. His eyes fall to your lips, and he leans forward to steal a kiss. Let's do it tomorrow then. 

That’s pretty much how every day looks like to you for the rest of the week. He tries to bring up the elephant in the room and you run away like a scaredy cat, he doesn’t insist so you never actually talk. 

Sunday morning comes around and his bags are ready, sitting by the door. You spent your Saturday evening out with friends, not baring to watch him put his clothes away. He has already packed up his books and family pictures, putting all his stuff in boxes except for the most important one. Though he’s leaving you the furniture you bought together when you first moved in- the couch, the mattress, the bookshelf (now half empty), the place feels empty. 

“Oi.” His voice is unusually soft. Not because he isn’t (soft), but because that’s not how he does it really. Bakugou may appear as loud and opinionated to anyone who meets him, but the man you know has a careful touch and a sweet tone- eager to please and ready to love. But this, the sound you’re hearing right now, it’s colored with pity. “I- Do you think we should talk?” 

He’s standing by the door, as if ready to bolt out the second you start crying. His flight isn’t until midnight, but he’s already opening his dumb mouth. The fact that this time he’s asking tells you everything you need to know. You haven’t said a word the whole week, dodging his reaching hand and masking your pain with a smile. There isn’t much to say now, you both already know how this ends. Ever since teenagers none of you had been fond of long-distance relationships, and even before dating Bakugou had warned you this could happen. You got on the train anyway, because you loved him. And he loved you. Now you both have to get off, though you love him. And he loves you. 

His eyes are fixed on the broken tile by his feet. Not even sparing you a glance. 

“Do you have something to say?” It should make him mad, that you’re asking this now after seven days of him chasing you around. 

But he can’t get mad. He’s not sure he can feel a thing. “Yeah- uhm I-” Don’t say it, please don’t say it. “- you know we both don’t really do long distance, so.” 

“Hm.” It comes out as a choked sob, voice breaking and alerting him. But his eyes fall back down again. Why did he insist on this when he can’t even do it properly?

A minute goes by and you say nothing, just watch him play with the broken tile. The apartment is old but everything you ever wanted, with tiled floors and a pretty view of the city. 

“I never fixed it.” He says, pointing at the spot with the tip of his foot. “If you ask Kiri or Mina they could probably help you find a new one, replace it.” 

You know he’s not talking about himself, about your relationship. Still, it hurts. 

“I like it the way it is.”

Bakugou laughs. “It’s broken”

“It works.” He catches onto your dry tone and stops his movements, straightening out his back and looking you in the eyes.

“Do you wanna go out for a walk? It’s pretty nice out there, we could get lunch later at that place you like- what is it called? Marga? Maggie?” He’s doing the same thing you did to him, so you can’t get mad. But you do. 

“Why don’t you just break up with me already?” Make it quick so it doesn’t hurt as much.

He has the audacity to look surprised. “What? I’m trying to be nice, have a last date before-” He interrupts himself with an exasperated sigh. “You know what, fine! If you don’t want to, it's fine. I can spend the rest of the day at my parents’ if this is uncomfortable, but keep in mind I tried to do this earlier and you didn’t let me. Do you even know how I feel? I’m the asshole that’s breaking both our hearts and it’s not even my fault!” 

Bakugou’s fury has never frightened you, but his cheeks covered in tears is a horror that hunts you in your sleep. You can’t help but think of his younger self, so volatile and fragile, how he’d shoot to kill without a second thought. Now he’s matured, and it shows. You should tell him to stay, at least until he has to leave. But your pain is bigger and angrier.

“Yes, that would help a lot actually.” He’s not expecting those words, but his reaction is one proper of his persona.

“Fine. I’ll go.” 

“Fine.”

And with a slamming door he moves onto a better, greater future. 

2. (lovely, hurtful, magnetism)

It’s hot when you see him again. Todoroki has invited you over to his family’s summer house, and apparently said invitation extended over to his other group of friends. Of course you knew about this before agreeing to come, you’re not an idiot and your friend is not an actual airhead. 

sho has created the group chat  “ todoroki’s summer house ”

sho has added you

sho has added pinky

sho has added kiri

sho has added curls

sho - hi come this tuesday im staying for two weeks

sho - lmk if i forgot to add anyone

sho has added ‘ki

sho - bakugou your here for summer right

‘ki - yes 

sho - k

‘ki - and it’s you’re

sho - k

Then Ochako and Kaminari flooded your phone with messages. You texted Shouto privately, and he explained to you Bakugou had been fired. Apparently, the hero agency had been in debt for quite some time and managed to hide it, staying afloat but barely. Later this spring they began cutting people out, saying goodbye to most of their rookies- including Bakugou. You winced at the sound of his name, just imagining how much of a fit he would’ve thrown. 

sho - hes fine though

sho - got a big compensation 

(Not that you asked how he was doing, but you thanked him for the info anyways.)

Everyone in both groups heard about your breakup, either from you or from him. (this you knew because your friend, Todoroki Shouto has been part of both groups since high school) (and also because he’s a gossipy motherfucker). It didn’t come as a surprise though, they knew neither of you would agree to try- it’s self-suicide, but for romantic relationships.

Still you never expected the reunion to be so tense. 

“Hey! Hi! Oh my god it’s been ages!” Kirishima is the first of them to arrive, caging you in a reciprocated bear hug. 

“Hi Kiri, how have you been?” You’ve always liked the redhead, such a cheery, reliable person. 

“Oh you know, busy but overall fine. Hey, my moms told me they saw you at the park, you have a dog now?” His smile is so blinding for a moment you forget your manners, squinting your eyes at him. 

“Yes, yes I got a dog. Her name is Kesha.” An even brighter light invades your sight as he throws his head back laughing.

“You gotta be kidding me, Kaminari is gonna love that!” 

And then the rest come. Mina hugs you tight, a warm touch you know holds a different meaning. Momo and Jirou arrive with Ochako, the three girls sending you glances every time Kirishima observes Bakugou’s uncharacteristic unpunctuality- something you’ve been thinking about since you got here, ready to face him as the first guest. A few moments later Izuku makes his way down from the second floor, his beauty bath finally done.

“A bath? In this heat? Man you’re nuts.” Sero comments. He has a new bike, even bigger than the last one. 

Finally, once you’re all getting dinner started, Bakugou and Kaminari show up at the door. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“Dude! Traffic was crazy, I swear to god we tried our best to get here on time but- Oh! Hi!” The blonde’s eyes have found you, and god bless his soul for his lack of brain cells. “Í didn’t- I brought him” He lifts his thumb and points at Bakugou hiding behind him. “I hope that’s fine?”

They’re standing by the living room entrance, and though you both manage to avoid each other’s eyes it’s still pretty clear that this is not a comfortable situation.

“Kaminari! Bro! Guess what?” Kirishima suddenly erupts from his spot next to you on the couch, gaining all of his friend’s attention. “Her dog’s name is Kesha.” He savors every letter, slowly, making sure they get that itch behind Denki’s ears. 

Kaminari’s face lights up, mouth hanging open. “Shut up!” Before you know it, he’s squeezing himself next to you and grabbing you by the shoulders, almost forcing you to take out your phone and show him pictures of your baby. 

Meanwhile Bakugou hands the tray with the dessert to Momo, following her into the kitchen and greeting your friends. “Hi.” Nod. “Hi.” Nod. Jirou goes for a fist bump, but Ochako just sends him a bitter smile. I’m on her side.

“Bakugou, does this need extra cold? I can put it in the freezer if you want.” Momo saves him from starting a silent fight. 

“Yes, yes that’d be better. It probably melted a bit during the car ride.” His hands are sweating- have been since Kaminari picked him up at his parent’s house.

“Why’d you take so long?” Jirou’s voice joins. He’s sure she’s on his side, but he’s not willing to trust too much- after all her girlfriend is your friend. 

“That dumb idiot took a wrong turn and didn’t listen to me, I should’ve come here on my own.” 

“Yeah right, and leave him behind. Because that’s what you do with the people you care about.” Ochako’s words take a second to digest, but soon enough their venom pumps in his veins with an anger he hasn’t felt since high school. 

It’s not fair. If this is how she’s reacting, then what twisted story have you told them? Yes, he left, but you knew it would happen. You knew it and didn't want to see it until it was too late, waited until the very last minute to turn it around and make him the bad guy. You, out of everyone, villainized him. Still, he contains himself, choosing to ignore her comment and move on to join the others.

“And then he jumped on me! Out of nowhere!” Kaminari has stolen the show. He’s standing on the couch, arms everywhere and crazy eyes making sure everyone is watching him. 

Bakugou’s gaze travels down, to the spot next to him. You’re resting your head on your arm, bent over the back cushion and staring up at his friend with a soft smile on your lips. You’re pretty (prettier, he thinks, but it’s probably his mind playing tricks). Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than how you usually wear it, but it suits you (obviously). The clothes you’re wearing are new too, or at least he doesn’t remember seeing you with that shirt on. He wonders how many people have, but it only ignites a fire he worked so hard to put out. Then you turn your head and look at him. It takes him a second to realize he’s been caught, but you hold his gaze for longer than he expected so he can’t back down now.

His red eyes provoke you, starting a game you’re not sure how to win. It burns your skin. Your fun is cut short though, Ochako has entered the room and is urging you to move your ass so I can sit. Her chubby fingers find their way to your waist and tickle you out of your trance, sending Bakugou a glare once she’s got your attention. Leave her alone.

Dinner goes smoothly, you’re such a big number of people it’s hard to focus on one thing at once so it’s fine if you fuck up, no one will notice. You’re seated between Shouto and Ochako, one shielding you from your ex and the other passing the chips and sauce. 

“So, when will my suit be done?” Sero asks, lifting his voice so everyone can hear. “That’s right, she’s been assigned my suit to fix! Don’t mind me having one of the best engineers in the country working on my favor!” The table explodes in shocked gasps and jealous whines. 

“I’ve been asking for you since we got out of high school! It’s not fair!” Ochako cries.

“I told you it’s not my decision to make! They just assign them to me!” More whining. 

Todoroki takes a sip of his non-alcoholic cider and decides to open his big mouth. “But in short time it will be.” After that they all fall silent, the sound of his sipping the only noise.

Then the room erupts again. Questions here and there, a few guesses to your answer. Are you moving away? Please don’t leave us! Omg please tell me it’s Best Jeanist!

It takes a moment to calm them down, and some extra work to make Kaminari stop throwing wild guesses at you. “I actually have a few offers-” you raise your hands up to stop them from invoking chaos again, “-one is abroad, yes.” An echo of ooohs is heard. “But the best option is right here, in this city.” You know that answer won’t satisfy them, they won’t stop bugging until you give them a name. They stare, expectantly. “The Bakugou’s are expanding their fashion industry and going into hero design, so they need an engineer and apparently I’m the best one they know.” Momo and Ochako have lost their smiles, Izuku is holding his breath and Shouto is eating salad. You thank every celestial being for Tsuyu’s absence, or else she would have spat hurtful facts right then and there. “It’s actually a really good job offer. I’ve known them for ages, so I trust them enough to suggest any changes if needed, and I’ll get to run the engineering department, so I’ll basically be the boss!” Sero and Mina look at each other, and you know they want to be supportive, but the air has suddenly grown dense. Bakugou hasn’t uttered a word, eyes fixed on his food but he’s not eating. “I could finally take in your requests, fix your suits, and all that.” Your voice grows smaller with every sentence you speak, feeling like all of this was a huge mistake. It feels wrong to add that you’ve already accepted this offer, that you’re starting in a few weeks. 

“That’s good, you’ve always wanted your own workshop and you’re good at managing people. Congratulations.” Bakugou says through greeted teeth, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat. His eyes are on yours again. Yes, your body is definitely burning up. 

You give him a tight smile, fighting the urge to cringe at yourself. It’s infuriatingly exciting how giddy you feel, shy but in a good way, wanting more.  

“Who wants dessert?” Shouto has finished his salad, and though he’s the only one with a clean plate nothing will come between him and his sweets (you’ll hold him accountable for his youngest child behavior later).

(Momo pulls you apart before going to bed, she just wants to make sure you’ve thought this trough. It’s his parents I’m working for, not him. She doesn’t insist, trusting you’re grown enough to know what you’re getting into.)

-

The following days are spent as you had imagined. Lots of food, pool days, karaoke nights, card games, Kaminari getting sunburnt, more food and maybe some peace and quiet.

“Why didn’t Iida come?” Denki asks during breakfast one day and everyone looks at him incredulously. He’s already done, swinging himself on a hammock and staring at the Todoroki’s huge garden. The silence makes him shift in place.  “What?”

“Dude, he’s been in the states for about a year now.” He left around the same time as Bakugou did. But Iida is not really his friend, so he wouldn’t know.  

“No way! What about his girlfriend? Did he leave her?” Just as always, Kaminari Denki doesn’t think twice before speaking. He gets the same stares as before, but this time no one answers.

You sigh and say- “They broke up.”

“Oh man, so he did leave her behind.” 

“No, they broke up dumbass. They talked like adults and realized it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t leave her.” Bakugou sounds defensive, one more stupid question away from skinning his friend alive. 

“It happens Denks.” You can’t believe you’re the ones having this conversation, especially when neither of you could do it back then. 

“Oh, oh. Right, sorry my bad.” 

Everyone’s plates are empty, so you take it as your chance to get up and flee back inside to the kitchen. If your eagerness at cleaning dirty dishes exposes your true feelings they don’t say, and you don’t care. 

You try not to blame Denki, but it’s because of him you’re now thinking about that awful week. It’s been almost a year, yet you still can’t get his words out of your head. You should’ve stopped him, accepted his offer for a last date and locked that memory within the confines of your heart. But instead, you stood and watched it all burn down. 

A rattle of glass against glass startles you, and you turn to see Bakugou has placed a tray of cutlery and plates on the counter. He takes a look at your gloved hands under the water and furrows his brows.

“What are you doing? What's wrong with their dishwasher?” He immediately falls down to his knees, eyeing the machine with touchy hands- like a dad. You get rid of that thought as soon as it appears, not willing to go down that road today. 

“Shouto said it’s broken, overflows and ends up flooding the whole place.” 

“Hm.” 

His presence makes your tummy feel warm even after all this time. Of course, for years you thought you’d marry him, build your own house on the beachside and start a family together. Bakugou had always wanted a daughter, a little demon stronger than him, someone he could swing around in his arms and wrestle once big enough. 

“I’ll go fetch some tools, see if I can get this working.” You know he won’t be able to fix it, you took a look as soon as you got here, and since you’re the engineer between the heroes it would be smart to trust your judgment. But Bakugou likes to feel useful, so you let him be.

Not even two minutes later he’s back at your side, sitting on the floor with one leg over the other and his face buried in the dishwasher- mumbling ‘fuck is this’s and ‘the hell’s. 

“Nah, this shit is broken broken.” He says as he gets up from the ground. You stifle a giggle and focus on the never-ending pile in front of you, extending onto the counter on your left side. “You’re not done yet? What’s with all this mess, who left the dinner dishes there?” 

“Sero and Shouto were on cleaning duty last night.” After years of dealing with those boys, your answer is enough to explain today’s disaster. 

Bakugou’s face turns into a scowl, vein popping on the side of his forehead. “Those damn, spoiled brats, I swear to god I don’t understand why I’m still friends with them, they're so- infuriating.” His rant against his friends makes you smile against your will. “I’ll dry them off, but you’ll have to tell me where they go ‘cause this fucking house is a labyrinth.” 

His eyes meet yours for the third time this week, and you find the same burning flame staring back- just like the old times. 

He works in silence, taking a knife and wiping it, waiting for you to point at the first drawer in the right corner. Then he grabs a pot, wincing when he bumps it against a glass and makes a horrible noise. Bottom cabinet to the right. The domesticity of the situation freezes your heart and makes your mind race. His calloused hands are still as gentle as you remember them, handling every object with the same care he used to hold your face. 

“How were things in your new home? Did you like it?” You’re the first to break the silence. 

Bakugou hates small talk, but something tells him you genuinely want to know. Was it worth it? 

He cleans his throat before saying- “Yes, it was… something.” He swallows. 

You know what you’re doing, it’s not nice but you can’t stop. “Did you make any friends?” He didn’t, you know it takes him six months to see a stranger is also a human being and an extra four months to gather the courage to talk to them (if they don’t make one (1) mistake and ruin it all).

“No.” You know what you’re doing, and you know he knows it too. “I didn’t have much time, working as a rookie is not so fun so I focused on getting promoted. Also, my peers weren’t the most accepting, so I figured why bother?”  

Oh. You go back in your tracks and lower your weapon. “Sorry to hear that.” You take the dish soap and pour some over the sponge. “Did they say something? Or do something?” You tread cautiously, fearing his answer might be a yes. 

“Nah, not directly to me but they made sure to express their opinions.” It’s not the first time it’s happened, but he can see your shoulders tense. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it so it’s not a big deal anymore. Most people are shit, and the heroics field isn’t the most queer-friendly environment, so I didn’t go in expecting a welcoming party.”  

You should feel ashamed, attacking one of his weak spots and ending up being you who needs reassurance. Still you can’t stop picturing him avoiding dressing rooms, sulking back to an empty apartment and showering in hot enough water to boil away the day. You want to rip to shreds the smiles of those who hurt him, drill into their empty heads and hand them out to an agonizing death. It’s silly, he’s a grown man, not that angry kid anymore. He doesn’t need your protection, he never has. Bakugou has gone through hell and come back alive, stronger than ever, so you want to believe him when he says it's fine. 

“It still shouldn’t be like that, you know, normal.” His hand goes over the same spot again and again, wiping the already dry plate with the kitchen cloth. 

“Yeah it shouldn’t, but it is, so.” He thinks his answer is a bit too negative, too sad. Bakugou doesn’t enjoy drawing the victim card, but he knows it sticks to him everywhere he goes though it's invisible to most. “Don’t think I always accept that, you know that if needed I will stand my ground. This time it wasn’t so smart to fight, but the next time it may be worth it.” 

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.” You’re still inside your own head, going through every shitty experience he must have had. Why do you do this to yourself? 

After a moment of silence he cleans his throat one more time, deciding to change the subject.

“Hey, sorry for Kaminari. Not just today but back to the first day, he’s been acting weird because I told him not to act weird around you. Should’ve known it would backfire.” 

“Don’t worry, he’s just… not aware of many things.” You gift him a tight-lipped smile. It’s okay, everything is fine.

“Yeah well, I guess you’re used to Shouto who’s actually worse. That menace, I bet It’s not a coincidence I’m here as well.” 

His comment takes you off guard, and it makes you giggle. Bakugou smiles, eyes softening at the sight, and he laughs too. 

You have to admit you thought the same, not really convinced with his “I miss my buddies” act. Your friend is known for proclaiming himself as a professional matchmaker, so when you heard his brilliant idea you had your suspicions. “Ugh don’t even mention it, I interrogated him for days, but he never broke.”

“He’s too strong.” He’s joking, and you’re laughing. If you stop for a second to take in what’s going on you're sure you’ll cry. “Though if he actually had a plan, he wouldn’t have invited Ochako. God I swear she probably has a voodoo doll of me hidden under her pillow, pokes it with needles every time she goes to bed.” 

“Hey! Don’t talk about my girl like that! She would never.” Feigning seriousness, you look him dead in the eye, then letting out a snort that evolves into a full-on cackle, not even believing the bullshit you’re saying. Of course she would do it, and more. 

“Right, sure.” He rolls his eyes.

You take some time to regain your breath, holding a hand over your stomach to stop the pain. 

Bakugou stares, has been doing so since he got here. “What?” You’re still trying to compose yourself, lose hairs falling in front of your eyes. He swallows. 

“It’s nice to see you happy.” His words are genuine. Soft. 

You take a deep breath and straighten your back, grabbing another dish. “In general? Or because you’re the one making me laugh?” 

He can tell you don’t mean to attack him, after years by your side he’d recognize your teasing tone anywhere. “Why not both?” 

It’s funny, to be in this position. You with your hands soaked, the useless gloves only for decoration, and Bakugou with a kitchen cloth in hand doing part of his work as well. A familiar feeling makes its way up your throat, and you push it down. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Two months.” He answers quickly, like if he takes too long you might slip away. Bakugou never hopes, but for you he’d even pray. 

“Hm.” Many things could happen in two months, but not enough to leave a scar, you think. “Where are you going after that?” You turn the tap off and turn around, leaning back against the sink and watching his arms flex as he stretches to place a glass in the top cabinet. His muscles have gotten bigger, you’ve seen his naked body a million times, but here up close and clothed it holds a different meaning- forbidden. Tempting. 

He stares back, eyes flying down to your lips and back to your eyes. “I got a contact in this other agency, says there’ll be an open spot for me.” Same old story. But you’re not the same old you. 

“Hm.” 

-

Your back hits the mattress but you’ve got no time to complain, as a blonde mop of hair kneels between your legs and lifts up your summer dress. Bakugou’s tongue is buried inside your cunt, nose nudging at your clit and hands gripping your thighs to keep your legs wide open. A desperate whine leaves your mouth, and you curse yourself for your lack of restraint, giving in so easily to the man you’ve cried rivers for. 

His bare back is displayed beneath you, and you take it as your chance to scratch it, leaving marks for the world to see. This time Bakugou is the one moaning, sending the vibrations straight into your core, an arch forming at the low of your back. “Fuck, Katsuki.” He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, devouring you even more intently. Your hands move up to tangle in his ashy strands, pulling and gaining a different sound each time. It’s hot, seeing him so pliant, panting between your folds and determined to make you reach heaven. 

His tongue abandons your hole and is replaced by two fingers, moving up to lap at your clit as he fucks into you- hitting that gummy spot that makes you see stars. “Shit sh-there! Right there ‘suki ah-” His name gets shorter with every thrust, planting in his mind the goal of turning you nonverbal.  

Even once you reach your high, he’s still on you. Slightly mean at first, not leaving you alone and overstimulating you. But finishing off with a peck to your nub, sweet, loving. He lifts himself up and lays next to you on the unmade bed, left arm across your rib cage and nose buried in your neck. For a second your mind conjures up images of him loving other people, but it all quickly fades away. Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t have sex, he makes love. He shows it in the way he touches you, not to take but to give, not because he’s thirsty but because he simply cares. The reminder threatens to awaken your fight or flight responses, but his strong arms keep you grounded. This is not love making, the weight of your soul has left an indent in his heart so it’s natural for him to want you. So you lie to yourself, convincing your heart he’s not here because he loves you but because you’re familiar. (It’s to no use, the flaming passion in his eyes is not lust and you know that, but you can’t admit this is a mistake. Not yet)

Without waiting any longer, and trying not to give it much thought, you manage to turn him around, so he lays on his back. The scars decorating his torso shine in the morning light seeping through the curtains, and your hand follows the line of every healed wound. His arm hairs raise up and his breath hatches, eyes burning into yours. 

Wet lips meet his neck, making their way down to his chest and when you kiss under his nipples his eyes fill with tears. It’s been so long since he’s felt this, the touch of someone who knows how to touch him, how to love him. Bakugou’s mouth is dry but the place between his legs isn’t. Should he stop you? What if it’s too late to try this? What if he no longer likes it? More questions flood his mind, and by the time he’s reached absurdity you’re already taking his shorts off. 

His body has already surrendered to you, but his mind is still spinning in the same spot. What if you no longer like him? But you do, because you don’t dive into him like a feral animal but go down slowly instead, taking your time and giving him space to grow used to the sensations. On you this would feel painfully slow, too boring, not enough. But on him it’s paradise. Your tongue has wandered every inch of his cunt, but has yet to kiss his clit, pulsating expectantly. Bakugou’s tummy fills with butterflies, and you smile at the sight of fists closed around a handful of cover sheets- head to the side, your scent impregnated on the pillow makes him go nuts. More. But he doesn’t ask for it, because he knows it will be too much. Instead, he enjoys your sweet torture, edging him closer with every second. 

The art of eating out Bakugou Katsuki is one you’re proud to say you’ve mastered. It took time, first he had to let you in and then you had to learn how to do it the way he liked it. Everyone knows he’s a control freak, so his performance in bed was never a surprise to you. He knew what he wanted and if you couldn’t give it to him then he didn’t want you- deeming you useless and unworthy. 

He’s putty in your hands, giving in to your touch and trusting you won’t hurt him. When he cums he’s silent, but not quiet. Deep, shaky breaths and eyes squeezed shut, trying to come back down from his high before his face turns red- still that shy boy you fell in love with. 

This sequence keeps repeating itself in your head for the next two days, until it manifests in real life again. And again. And again.

Bakugou’s hands seem to always find their way onto your skin, no matter where you are. His arms wrap around you from behind as he follows you into the garage- down and settling on your lower belly, thumbs slipping underneath your top and trailing up your belly button. The rest of your friends are all by the pool, waiting for you to grab the beach ball. Wet kisses down your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh. Why were you here again?

His nose tickles your ear, and you giggle, grabbing onto his hands and keeping them from climbing upwards. “If I don’t go out there soon they’ll send in Kaminari, or worse. Ochako.” His face scrunches up at the sound of her name. 

“They won’t find us if we go upstairs and stay quiet.” Kiss, nip, kiss. Face now buried on your shoulder. 

“Katsuki…” 

And the never-ending cycle would start again. Your friends pretty much already know by now, though you’re surprised they haven’t tried to talk you out of it yet. Todoroki is the only one who’s shown his support, (eager to indulge in his mischief) continuing to create situations where you’re both forced to be left alone together.

There’s no more bread? Why don’t you go? Bakugou go with her so she doesn’t get lost. 

Hey. You’re both on cleaning duty for the night.  

Bakugou take my seat. I want to be next to Sero. 

Ochako still sends him nasty glares, but she hasn’t objected. 

-

Once your little vacation is over, you all go back to your normal boring lives, and you have to come to terms with the sad realization that your daydream is over. Except Bakugou still has a month and a half left. He’ll be staying over at his parents, maybe you’ll get to see him more often, now that you’re working for them. It’s a tricky thought, you tell yourself you’re not eager to see him, you’re just excited about this new opportunity and it’s got nothing to do with him. 

“Hey son, why don’t you help us out? There are some prototypes that need testing.” Masaru has always liked you two together, inviting you over for dinner even more often this past year now that his only boy isn’t close. 

“Sure”

It’s all a trick. His dad leaves it all to you, excusing himself out of the workshop and never coming back. You’re stuck with seven arm weapon prototypes and a tall, blushing man. 

Bakugou feels dumb, like a little kid. He can’t understand what is so special about your greasy fingers dancing all over his skin as you secure the arm cannon. Maybe you’re too close, and between his elevated body temperature and the growing heat in the studio it’s only natural his cheeks will burn. Again, dumb. He’s been closer to you, much closer, just a week ago. His face had been suffocating against your own heat for fucks sake, and he didn’t feel like fainting back then. 

“It’s so tight, I don’t think it’ll be safe to-”

“Just put it on!” He can’t stand your mumbling and poor wording, not right now. Still there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from picturing you above him, chest heaving and covered in sweat as you try to fill him up with your pink stra-

“There we go! Holy shit that was hard.” 

Though Bakugou is not a fan of this reacquired excitement after months of relying solely on the use of his own fingers, it’s still not what rules his worries. It’s been years since he’s accepted the fact that yes, he wants you and there’s nothing he can do about it- but it’d be dumb to leave out the fact that his reaction has a cause, and it’s directly connected to his heart. At first, he thought he’d be able to just enjoy your touch, but now he finds himself craving a different sort of intimacy, one he’s not sure you’ll be willing to give to him. 

Still, he manages, stealing soft kisses when you’re too occupied moaning into his ear, holding you closer than what’s proper for two people in your situation. You don’t push him away when he stays the night, or when he shamelessly shows up announced with a bag of take out in hand. Cuddles after sex is one of his rules so you don’t get to complain against it, but he’s not sure how appropriate it is to press his body onto yours with the thought of fusing your souls into one. All he does know is that you always give in, as if you want it as much as he does. 

Your hands travel up and down his spine, jumping from freckle to scar to freckle again. His breathing is steady, unlike moments ago. It’s contagious, the warmth his body irradiates as it lays on top of yours, filling you with serenity. Your fingers scratch his undercut and his body shifts, pressing you further against the mattress in his childhood bed. Katsuki turns his head and leaves a trail of pecks on the side of your neck, igniting a rush of goosebumps down your arms and legs. You feel him smile against your skin. 

“It’s really going to hurt this time.” Your words break the lovely bubble that surrounds you. 

Unlike the last time, you and Bakugou have been talking. A lot. About his future, and about your current present. He’s made it clear he’s still leaving, and you’ve promised yourself not to blame him. You choose to be with him right now, even if it’ll break you later. 

The blonde lets out a heavy sigh, his rib cage expanding against your tummy. You wish you could turn him into a pocket size human, you’d keep him with you at all times and take him everywhere you go. 

“Yeah, it’ll be pretty shitty.” 

He wishes you’d ask him to stay. Just one word and he’d throw everything out the window, forcing himself down your throat and getting comfy in the nooks of your heart. He knows you’ll never say it- no, you’d never do that to him. And he wouldn’t ask it of you, to leave your dream behind and join him. He’s not that selfish. 

-

The drive to the airport seems too short. Before you know it, he’s already done his check-in, standing in front of his parents and getting ready to say goodbye. You can’t help but think this is how it should’ve been the last time. He shouldn’t have boarded that plane with the bitter remnants of a breakup lingering on his tongue, as he’s set to face a new place all by himself. No, this time you’re doing it right. 

Mitsuki holds on to him for a while, judging his choice of clothes and asking for the hundredth time if he’s got his passport with him. “Ma, I’ve got everything so quit your worrying.” His tone is rough, just like his mother’s. “I promise I’ll call you when we Iand, okay?” 

She sniffs and fights to hold back the tears, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at the ground. Masaru’s eyes have been red and puffy since he got out of the car, he’s already done his fair share of crying and pulls his wife closer to soothe her sadness. 

Finally, he turns to look at you. He’s as stiff as a board, straight back and heavy eyes. But his lips quiver for a second, as he extends his arms out to you for a hug. You let him wrap you up in his warmth, burying your face in his chest and inhaling his smell for one last time- you wish you could store it in a bottle, take it with you at all times.

Bakugou kisses the top of your head and nuzzles his face into your hair, exhaling loudly. “I’m gonna miss you.” He whispers it, only meant for you to hear.

You don’t say it back, doing so will only be grieving in advance a loss that hasn’t happened yet. For this moment, right now, he’s still yours. 

A voice over the speakers calls for the passengers of his flight, and he has to let go of you. Yet his hands are still on the small of your back, fingers clasped together and eyes now staring at yours. He leans down and kisses your forehead, then your nose and eventually your lips. 

“Katsuki, don’t.” 

But he doesn’t listen, moving his hands to cradle your face and inch closer until his open mouth is set atop of yours. The voice echoes through the speakers and he deepens the kiss. When you break apart your face is wet, tears decorate your cheeks just like his. 

With your foreheads pressed together he says it again. “I’ll miss you.” You push him away, pulling every ugly face available to stop you from breaking down in front of him. 

You watch him disappear in the sea of people and suitcases. A gentle hand squeezes your shoulder. Mitsuki. She looks even worse than you, and you can tell this isn’t as bad as the first time. You hug her, hiding your face in the crook of her neck and finally letting it all out. 

The ride back home is silent, though Masaru tries to cheer you all up with work talk. It makes you smile; how different he is from his son.

And you cry again. 

3. (rotten core, predictable mistakes)

“Bakugou?” 

The other side of the screen emits only silence. Maybe if you weren’t being woken up at four in the morning, you’d be able to distinguish his breathing.

“Hello?” you try again.

This time you hear some ruffling, it’s not paper but it isn’t bed sheets either. At least it means he’s right there. Luckily your tired mind is too slow to jump to the worst-case scenario, so before you start picturing him lying on the floor of his apartment all bloody and bruised, he’s already speaking.

“I saw your picture, the one you sent me yesterday.” You can tell he’s been crying. “I was busy, so I guess I didn't realize I had opened your chat. I liked the dog, the one with the green collar.”

This is the fourth time this month. Lately you’ve both been very busy, finally falling into your usual schedules and being swallowed by work. The first months after your summer adventures were heaven, some part of you still believes that might have all been a dream.

He was so sweet, so present. You were so eager, genuinely happy. Even if he wasn’t next to you, Bakugou would have the decency to call you during lunch break instead of ungodly hours, always keeping in mind your normal work shifts in comparison to his. He would tell you about his day and you would ramble about your own stuff, exchanging pictures and sometimes videos. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t strangers either. 

Back then it wasn’t hard for you to text him good morning and check the weather in his city to remind him to take a coat with him to work. None of it was necessary but you knew it made him start the day with a smile drawn on his face.

Half into the second month, things started to fall apart. Hero work got real, with all that it entails. Bakugou’s battered face would appear on the news and you’d run to the phone, calling his parents when he wouldn’t pick up. You knew what it meant to love someone like him, with a job like this. But it was different when you couldn’t be by his side. Mitsuki and Masaru understood you, letting you stay over at their house to be there when news came. Still, that didn’t stop you from bombarding his phone, planting the seed of a possible fight. If only you could just not care.

The first real argument you had over the phone was one you should’ve seen coming. Bakugou had his ass beaten by a villain and didn’t give signs of life for a whole week. He didn’t text any of his friends, nor his parents, and he obviously didn’t talk to you. You weren’t really dating after all so you shouldn’t have expected special treatment.

“Could you fucking stop.” Those were the first words he said to you.

You had stopped calling and resigned to just text him, like everyone else did. But when his contact showed up on your screen during a shift at work, you dropped everything to answer.

“I’m fine just- I need to be alone.” He didn’t wait for you to say anything, just hung up on you.

You’d known Bakugou for years, enough to know he’s not a loser. These recent encounters with villains had left him rather… sensitive. Maybe you were used to his strenuous confidence, acting as a cover for his own insecurities hidden deep below his ego- it wasn’t weird to see him down, but it wasn’t common for him to not try to get back up. So naturally you worried. Everyone did.

For the following week all you did was wait for his call. Feeling as useless as ever. Little by little he started to talk again, first a picture of a stray cat, followed by a good morning text. Things were almost back to how they used to be before. You avoided hero talk, and he started to call more often. You could see he was sorry, though he never apologized for disappearing and leaving you sick worried for a week, he was desperately trying to make it up to you.

After that the midnight calls became a thing. You were too busy at work, not as eager to chat during lunch break- your only break. Going back home and just passing out, only picking up the phone to order some food and check emails. You talked to his parents a few times about him. The three of you agreed that he needed help, whether it was therapy or friends, Bakugou wasn’t made for bottling up- but that’s just exactly what he was known for. Still, you never suggested it, never even mentioned it. You were too tired, too busy, and he was too far, too stubborn. When he took notice of your distance, he panicked.

“Bakugou? It’s one a.m what happened?” The first time he called you were scared. Body jumping straight into action, ready to run over to his parents and find a way to help him out.

“I'm fine! Don’t worry I- I just wanted to talk. We haven’t in a while, you know.”

You were happy at first, something about these talks made a rush of excitement run through your body, like a kid breaking curfew. There was an unfamiliar sincerity in his voice, it made your heart ache, but you were glad he was reaching out for help. 

Then it became too much. He was too anxious, too volatile. And somehow, always too late.

“You looked pretty too.” I should be holding you close. “My mom told me you started-”

“Katsuki.” You cut him off, tired of hearing him dance around what he actually wants to say.

“Hm? What?” 

You leave an open spot, the chance for him to finally say it.

“I miss you.” He doesn’t, so you do. Still a coward. 

His stutter reaches your ear, more ruffling and tussling. What on earth is he doing? 

“Got my scarf stuck on my zipper, sorry.” 

Distance does something weird to the man you love, it reminds you why you never took the risk. 

You curl your body into a ball, hidden under the covers with your phone laying on the mattress next to your head. “Katsuki.” Tears begin to fall down. 

“Hm?” You wonder if he knows what’s coming. He probably does.

“Don’t call me anymore. Please.” You whisper the words, trying to dull the edge of the blade. 

He hangs up on you without giving an answer. You know he’s crying right now, and the thought makes the pain unbearable. 

The next morning you wake up and decide to text him a picture of your window. It’s raining outside and there's a rainbow in the sky. It’s pretty, maybe it’ll cheer him up. You regret your actions, but know they were necessary.

Bakugou takes two weeks to answer your texts, which are very few ‘cause apparently, you’re busy and don’t have as much time for him. He knows what he was doing wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t have to drop it on him like that. Still, he wants you, if this is all you can offer, he’ll take it. 

katsuki - I tried frozen yogurt today

you - was it good?

katsuki - image 

katsuki - yes

It drives him nuts. Six months ago, you were sleeping in his arms, resting your chin on his chest and staring up at him with doe eyes. Six months ago, you were his and he was yours. Six months ago, he was loved. 

His fellow heroes are nice people, that’s the worst part. This is what he wants, but he can’t bring himself to fully enjoy it. You’re everywhere. 

you - look at this

you - image

you - he’s an idiot

A picture of Shouto’s face shines on his screen. He still is in his hero costume, but there’s wax bands covering where his attempt at a mustache should be. You sent it three hours ago, so he doesn’t respond- it’s late where you are and he doesn’t want to wake you. That day he goes to sleep with an ugly sensation settling into the pit of his stomach. Shouto is his friend, and your friend as well. But it’s been so long since he last talked to him, the pro hero could steal you without a hint of guilt in his iced heart. For a moment he forgets he’s talking about Deku’s husband, the same gay guy he’s known since he was fifteen. 

“He still could do it.” You could turn a gay man straight; he has no proof but no doubts either. 

And Todoroki loves like him, soft and quiet. No sex. Maybe he could be your type. Hell even a platonic relationship would work out, he knows the half and half bastard is down to it. Bakugou remembers their long night talks at the dorms, that time when Mina came out and Shouto said he didn’t like sex. It took Katsuki a while to realize his apple didn’t fall far from their tree, mainly because he couldn’t picture himself living in that body back then, so there was no use in worrying about things he would never try. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I would love to spend the rest of my days with a loved one. But I don’t want romance, does that make sense? I’ve heard people date, but they don’t really- it’s like a really intense friendship.”

“All your friendships are intense, Mina.”

“Yes! Exactly, I would settle down with any- with all of you! I would love to sleep in the same bed and kiss your cheeks and raise children together! Kiri we could get a dog!” She had gained puzzled stares, a room full of boys in a binary world. 

“Can we get a kitten too?” Todoroki wasn’t much of a talker, compared to his present self he was basically a statue.

“Of course!”

“And I want my own room, I don’t like sharing beds with people.” 

“Sure! Anything you want!” 

He wonders if you’d like that. Maybe you’d move in with him and Deku, give them kids even.

Bakugou catches himself before falling down into that spiral, getting under the shower and turning on the cold water, letting it wash away his delusions. It’s his friends he’s talking about, they’d never do him so dirty. But maybe, for your happiness… 

It’s your life, you can do whatever you want. 

The thoughts accumulate and he pushes them to the back of his head, there’s more important things to fill that space with. Bakugou listens to your request and stops calling, maybe takes it too far when he starts ignoring your messages. It’s better this way. You’re not going to wait for him and he’s not going back, so why should he bother keeping in touch if it’s only gonna hurt you both? 

If we ever broke up, would we still be friends? 

Your words haunt him. His answer back then had been a simple no, because he was young and stubborn and couldn’t imagine a world in which he wasn’t your lover. Now that’s the world he lives in, and his answer remains the same. 

4. (closing act)

Ten months and twenty-seven days. One winter, one spring and one summer since you last spoke to Katsuki. You don’t blame him. 

sho - he doesn’t have to come

sho- i can always see him some other day

The holidays are just around the corner and all of your hero friends are taking time off- finally. All of them, including Bakugou. To be honest you didn’t expect him to accept Shouto’s invitation, knowing you are gonna be there as well and considering everything that had gone down between you two. Maybe he’s no longer offended, willing to be civilized and even friendly. It's  been a while. Still, you don’t get your hopes up. 

you - don’t worry i’m cool with it 

sho - k

It sucks to share friends with him, even though you've always been sure Shouto would never take a side, this time it feels like he has. He may not be as keen on hurting him as Ochako is, but he’s shared his thoughts on his friend’s behavior- I understand the need to flee, talking about emotions can be very frightening, but he’s a grown man. And most important, he was your friend once. I can’t imagine fighting with you and not trying to make up right after, I also can’t imagine him wanting that. It’s strange, maybe he needs time to sort things out. 

Again, you don’t blame him. You were the one who cut him off. You were the one who stopped texting when he stopped answering., knowing damn well he's not one to chase. You both gave up. 

sho - just now im here for you

Back again at Todoroki’s summer house, but now fully prepared for the winter season, you feel tiny. Small. There’s so many people everywhere you look it’s a bit overwhelming. One catch of ashy blonde hair has you meddling with strangers, starting small talks and pushing champagne down your throat. All to forget about his presence, to keep you busy and out of his way. And Bakugou does the same, avoiding entering any room you walk in, sticking to Kirishima’s side until he warns him- “I’m gonna go say hi, but you can wait here if it’s too awkward-” “Tch, fuck off.” 

The Christmas decorations are pretty, the big, ornamented tree in the living room gets all the compliments but your eyes are set on the gingerbread cookies Fuyumi brought. 

“You seriously made this?” She nods, a proud smile spreading on her lips. Her mother joins her side, hugging her arm and resting her head on her shoulder. 

“They’re so pretty my love.” Rei's voice is sweet and tender, motherly. 

It’s nice to see them happy. 

You settle next to them at the dinner table, asking about Touya’s recovery and Natsu’s absence. A few years ago they would’ve deflated, Rei would’ve excused herself to the bathroom leaving Fuyumi to answer all the harsh questions. Now their eyes shimmer and shine, the boys are doing well! Touya is still in rehab and looking better every day, showing signs of a possible re-integration into society which excites and frightens them at the same time. 

“They told us there may be a chance he relapses, but it’s the risk to take if he wants to have a normal life.” 

The shortest of the siblings is spending the holidays in Okinawa with his fiancé’s family, and you let out an audible gasp at the news.

“He’s engaged? Shouto! That little bastard didn’t tell me- oh! I’m gonna rip him to shreds!” 

Your voice is unescapable. Bakugou can hear you laugh, hiss, complain and even pout form his seat at the far end of the table, away from you. He had forced Kirishima to a secluded spot, between some B-list heroes Shouto is friends with- his social butterfly of a friend moping next to him. 

“Why is she so fucking loud.” It’s not a question, and it’s only meant for Kirishima, but the brunette on his other side sends him a nasty side eye. 

“Dude, you’re being rude.” Eijirou warns him, longingly staring at his friends conversing on the opposite end.

“And she’s being annoying.” That earns him a smack to his head, which he fully accepts as the words of his childhood therapist echoe in his mind. 

That anger, that fury you’re throwing at others, it’s fully yours. You have to listen to it, not push it deep and far away, otherwise it’s going to come up in a violent spurt and it’ll harm you and the ones you love. Being strong is all about letting yourself be weak, Katsuki. 

He wishes he were in the mood to channel that energy. 

“You’re such a dick!” Though he does find your voice infuriating, he still can’t help looking at you. Arms up in the air and ready to slap Todoroki across the face. If he weren’t feeling so bitter, he’d laugh. “I’m calling him once we’re done eating, I can’t believe neither of you said anything! This is a big thing!” 

“I'll let you put rockets in my suit's pants as a revenge.” Shouto is joking but his face muscles stay unmoving. 

“Wait, you’re the one who works with the Bakugou’s? I knew your face sounded familiar!” Patch, Shouto’s sidekick, shines a bright smile your way. “That must be so cool!” 

He’s barely twenty, a cheery boy with dimples like Deku’s. “Yeah, it is pretty awesome. I designed Ingenium’s last costume upgrade, don’t know if you’ve seen it. With the boosters.” Todoroki drama long forgotten; you dive in for a possibly new client.

“Oh I did! And the little refreshing station, I watched a video of a dutch engineer breaking down the mechanics behind it and it was crazy!” His excitement is contagious, fills your chest with pride and suddenly you’re bragging about your other inventions, showering in compliments and enjoying every single second of it. 

Most eyes are on you, and little by little everyone joins in on your conversation. Everyone but him. 

“Man, I wanted so badly to be part of the support team when I was a kid!” 

“It’s never too late to try, we could use more hands honestly.” 

“I don’t know,” Suna says, because yes now you’re on a first name basis, “I’ve worked so hard to become a hero- I can’t back down now you know.”

Ugh, same old story.

You sigh and tch at him. “You heroes are all the same. Still, I stand by what I said, it’s never too late. There’s no shame in waking up tomorrow and deciding you want to quit, open a bakery and live a simple life.”

You can feel Bakugou’s response before you hear it, buzzing in your ears like a memorized speech from a long time ago. He straightens his back, trying to seem as big as possible and opening his big, loud, mouth.

“Don’t say that to the kid. He’s gotta fight for what he wants, if he thinks he can make it he shouldn’t give up just ‘cause he’s scared.” It’s the first thing he has said to you all night. And it’s not a bark but he sure as hell is showing his teeth. 

“Oh Dynamight sir! Don’t worry, I’m not quitting. It’s just a silly little dream of mine, sort of a if I weren’t a hero what would I be? kinda thing. A plan B.” His chubby cheeks are as red as Katsuki’s ears, hands waving apologetically.

Rolling your eyes, you stop Suna's hands and throw him an apologetic smile, turning back to face your ex. “I’m not telling him to quit, Bakugou.” You grit your teeth, trying your best to keep your composure and not ruin dinner for everyone else. “He was admiring my work and I encouraged him to do whatever he wants, whether it’s hero work or to help from the sidelines.” 

With tense shoulders and walls built all the way up, you wait for the explosion. But he doesn’t fight back- not that it was a fight, not nearly an argument, no. Still he takes his plate and gets up, followed by Kirishima and Mina as they excuse themselves. You stay and reassure the poor rookie, looking pale and mumbling so sorry’s with his head hanging low. Ochako gives you a look from the other side of the table, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips. Looks like someone is in a bad mood. 

The rest of the evening goes according to plan- Shouto’s plan (which is actually Fuyumi’s). Dessert is served along with champagne, white sparkly alcohol setting the Christmassy mood. You can tell your friend was able to slide his ideas past his sister’s filters as you dig your teeth into a chocolate chip cupcake with an icing decoration that simulates a snowman. That last interaction with Bakugou has left you uneasy, making out his face in places he actually isn’t and wondering if you did give bad advice to a soon-to-be hero.

Though it’s an opinion you’ve had for many years, it is heavily interlaced with your own experience. With him. But how could it not be? Your ex-boyfriend is the perfect example, the on-going, repetitive case of the big, scary hero who will throw everything out the window for a chance at greatness. Yes, there’s people with ambition, it happens to those who have big dreams that aren’t easy to obtain. Then there’s heroes. It’s not bad if a medical student wants to drop out and give out midway, to quit and major in arts- it sure is a hell of a decision to make, but it’s not the end of a world. But heroes, they believe that because their jobs are strictly connected to saving people’s lives and making the world a better place, there’s not such a thing as quitting. And people think so too, condemning those who dare take a step back and judging the ones who refuse to go down that path, no matter how helpful their quirks are. So, to have superiors like Bakugou who can’t give in to their weaknesses and take a minute to think about themselves only contributes to the problem. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tsuyu’s voice interrupts your internal monologue, and it’s only then you realize you’ve been ruminating on the very same topic you’ve been wishing to avoid tonight. Past mistakes and lost chances.

Still your head is running, making it hard to figure out what people are saying- there’s a voice at the back telling you to go mend things with him, one you try very hard to ignore. Stretching your neck and standing on tippy toes, you look for him and find him standing on the other side of the room, of course. His huge form blocks the staircase, where both Mina and Kirishima are seated and talking animatedly. 

“Hm. I´ll be right back.”

Pushing through the bodies you manage to reach where he stands, taking a deep breath before poking his shoulder. You feel like a little kid, just like back then when you were fifteen with a massive crush on that demon boy two years older than you. Blonde spiky hair, black nails and dark eyeliner, a toothy grin that made your heart beat rapidly (everyone’s did, but mostly out of fear). That time Hatsume found out about your little boy crush and tried to set you up, only to get rejected in front of the whole school. (he wasn’t interested in dating; he didn’t do girly stuff- and you probably wouldn't’ want him if you knew just how much he had in common with you)

Katsuki turns around with a scowl, facade fading as soon as he recognizes your face, but building his walls back up once he remembers your status. 

“What?” He means to hurt, scare you away, but you’ve fought enough times with him to know what really goes on in his head. 

“We shouldn’t fight over stupid things, we’re here to have a nice evening just like everyone else. Let’s not spoil it for everyone else, okay?” You’re sure it’s pretty clear that you don’t want to argue. All he hears is you making fun of him. 

But Kirishima's eyes are on him, as well as Mina's. They've done well taming his temper and putting out the fire, he's not going to shit on their work.

So he just rolls his eyes and nods, doesn't even spare you a glance. You wait for him to burst, show his teeth and bite. But like before, Katsuki just shrugs, turning back around and giving you his back. 

It takes you a second to process his reaction, surely there's more to say. But that's all you get. "Oh- okay. Fine, I guess." Mina gives you a sympathetic smile. She's on his side, but she likes you. 

There are no sides. But there are. 

The silence is replaced by distant chattery, and you're pulled back to reality. It's dumb, you tell yourself, to wait for him to lose it. Mean. After all, this is better. Healthier. 

But it just doesn't feel like him. And it doesn't feel like you. A sudden urge to cry settles on your throat and you have to excuse yourself back to where your friends are. The weird interaction plays in your head on repeat, an inescapable loop of shameless self-boycotting. You’re young again, and he’s too- which means he’s not nice, and he doesn’t like you.

-

Dinner is over and most guests have already left, except for Shouto’s close friends and family. Some of you have decided to stay and help him tidy up, which translates to: Bakugou, Momo, Kirishima and you will be doing the dishes, vacuuming the floors and packing all the leftovers in different containers- while Mina, Kaminari, Sero and Shouto play Mario Kart in the living room. Ochako and Tsuyu keep you company in the kitchen, watching you load the dishwasher. Momo comes and goes, taking stuff from one room to another and bringing you new dirty bowls every now and then. At some point Bakugou shows up with glasses piled up on each hand, placing them on the sink and looking down at the space left on the machine. You open your mouth to comment on the Todoroki’s new acquisition. Fuyumi was the one who took the initiative after inviting her friends over for a nice vacation, only to find months old dishes with fluffy mold on them covering the counter. Shouto’s doing, of course. But when you turn around to laugh at his outraged expression you realize he’s gone. Ochako and Tsuyu stare at you, and before you can stop them, they go on listing different ways to make him suffer. 

“It’s fine, what I said earlier must have bothered him. The whole hero thing. And we haven’t talked in months so it’s not as easy as to simply fall back into friendly territory." Bakugou wouldn't want that, to be just friends, though the just in that affirmation has always made your heart ache. Why isn't it enough? "It was dumb I shouldn’t have expected him to just laugh and be fine with it.” You don’t want to justify his behavior, especially when it’s your friends on the hearing end. They already hate his guts, so no matter how hard you try to explain this is the result of both your mistakes, they’ll still want his head on a stick. “He’s not even mad, really. We’re both just hurt, and pretending nothing happened is not gonna make it all better.”

Tsuyu seems to actually be listening, maybe even considering your point. But Ochako, oh dear lord. You’d rather not know what she thinks. 

Midnight comes around and Momo takes out the heavy artillery. 

“Who wants chamomile? This one has cinnamon too and I bet it’ll go good with honey. So, Bakugou? This sounds like you.” 

You take strawberry tea with a dash of milk, her expensive herbs so comforting and soul cleansing. Maybe it’s a mind trick, how they come in pretty bags and are all neatly placed in a wooden box. So delicate. Convincing you they have the solution to all your problems.

Twenty minutes into this late-night snacking session, you realize the seating arrangements are quite similar to the ones you fell into last summer. You’re nestle on the couch between Kaminari and Kirishima, with Ochako by your feet (now with the addition of Tsuyu between her legs, resting her head on her chest). Shouto and Momo sit across from each other on the big, royal-like armchairs, while Sero, Bakugou and Mina sit on the floor (on the other side of the coffee table, far from Uraraka’s threatening stare). The only ones missing are Jirou and Izuku, who is actually Deku tonight. Your mind travels down that road again. Japan’s number ten hero, up in the charts with the big fish. Shouto came in seventeenth place this week, and Momo is two numbers up. Still, they’re not half as known as Deku, the rumored to be new symbol of piece- with his blinding smile and shiny future ahead. Your eyes find Shouto’s, and he looks fine. It’s not the first time it happens, Izuku hasn’t been here for his past two birthdays and keeps on missing out on important dates. But your friend isn’t much a quality time person, leaning onto words of affirmation and physical touch kinda lover. Still, it must be hard, you think. 

Bakugou’s placement is unknown to you, has been ever since he moved abroad. Why would you check? It doesn’t affect you anymore. 

“So… I heard Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is doing well out there with the foreigners.” Kaminari’s teasing tone disrupts your peace, as usual. He always picks on him for his high school hero name, though he changed it to just Dynamight a few years back. You were the only other human who was able to mention it and leave to tell the tale.

Bakugou growls.

“Did you break any laws yet? Maybe the governor’s building?” Another reference to his early hero days, when he was reckless and unprofessional. His baby face appeared on the news every week, and you would take a pic of his scowl live on tv! to print it out and add it to your Dynamight cork board. Days without incidents: 5 0.

“It’s actually going pretty well. I mean, they don't exactly love me out there, but I don't really like them either, so.” You expect him to stop there, though it’s his friends asking he’s never one to open up much. “I'm sort of friends with this one hero, has a cool quirk similar to Eiji’s so we can train without worrying much about his face blowing off." There’s a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. 

And you remember. This guy must be the one you know as Kento, big buff dude with scales for skin. “Oh! The guy with the orange cat, right?” You’re suddenly excited. Katsuki had tried many times to befriend him, but every day he’d call you to tell you about a new embarrassing exchange.

“I swear every time I gather courage to speak to him someone else comes barging in! And I don’t want to text him, I see him every day and we’re gym buddies. I have plenty of chances to ask him to hang out.” 

“You sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, ‘Ki.” You giggle. 

“Shut up.” You can hear him sigh over the phone, he’s probably running his hands down his face, skin turning red. “He has an orange cat, and he bought him a Dynamight hat to piss me off. How doesn’t that make us friends already? Yet he never asks me out to lunch, or texts me to go train together, it’s all just coincidence!” 

He had been so upset back then, rummaging his head for the perfect plan to befriend this man. And he had finally done it. 

Without looking your way, Katsuki answers and awkward “Uh yeah, anyway so-” and keeps on talking about his new friend. It throws you off a bit, smile fading quickly as your hands search for your phone. You open three different apps, pretending nothing happened and trying to gain back the confidence he stripped from you. He’s hurt, you repeat in your head, mostly to make yourself feel better.

“-and I finally got the hang of that last move, I just gotta be fast enough to activate my quirk a second before throwing the punch.”

“Oh! I saw it on a video, I think. You were fighting some kind of hybrid villain, right?” He had told you about that move, too. Maybe you didn’t keep track of his name, escalating the charts, but you did check his city’s online newspaper every few weeks. 

All he gives you is a quick glance and a mhm. And that’s all you need really. Okay, got it. 

You shuffle in your seat, uncomfortable. Nose scrunched up, fake smile wavering as you fight to keep the tears inside. You bury your face on your screen once again, ending up in the notes app like a fucking loser. There’s an acid, burning sensation at the top of your stomach, building its way up your esophagus. He looks so cool, so big and happy talking about his new life and the new, super awesome people in it. He’s happy, but something about his happiness feels bitter to you, rotten. You’re not sure how much of it is true, but you can’t condemn him to a miserable life just because of who he is. He’s not crying over the phone, not even mentioning the orange cat or the old lady from the ice cream shop down his street. You hate to think he’s leaving all the little details out of the story because you might interrupt him again, disturbing his ideal life. And you can’t even blame him, it was you who cut him off in the first place, so he has every right to put some distance between you two. Maybe he has changed. Maybe this time he is fine. And happy. Without you. 

And then you just can’t take it anymore, how he smiles that wide grin, a loud laugh erupting from the depths of his throat and filling the room with his oh so characteristic pride. 

Ochako shares a glance with Shouto as they notice you getting up and heading to the bathroom. She moves to follow you, but her friend stops her, shaking his head- leave her alone. He’ll check up on you if needed. 

Minutes go by and there’s still no sign of you. Shouto gets up and slithers his way out of the room, unseen. Ochako’s face starts to burn, anger taking over her as she’s forced to watch your friends gawk at Bakugou’s stupid fight with a oh so dangerous! villain. Fucking idiot. 

-

After ten minutes inside the bathroom, you begin to panic. The tears won’t stop coming, and what was supposed to be a quick emotional dump has turned into an embarrassing, sad, full-on breakdown. Your bottom lip quivers and you’re very close to letting an audible cry out. Just then, the door slides open, revealing a stone faced Shouto. Then his mouth twists in an upward, displeasured mock. He doesn’t like seeing you cry, especially when it’s over his very stupid friend. Without emitting a word, he stands in front of you, towering over your body as you sit on the lidded toilet with your elbows resting on your knees. 

“I’m fine.” You lie.

Sniff.

“I can see that.” His monotone voice holds a unique humor only meant for someone who truly understands him. 

It stirs the beginning of a laugh, but you’re too busy licking at the stray tears reaching your lips. Still, you think of him fondly. Little, emotionally constipated fifteen-year-old Shouto would have turned around and left you to drown in your sorrow. Yet here he is, all grown up and brave enough to face someone else’s pain without panicking. 

“You should tell me what’s wrong, then I’ll see what I can do.” Sweet, caring Shouto.

Using your left hand to wipe your face, you take a second to respond, turning your body to the side to grab some toilet paper.

“It’s okay Shouto, you can’t help with this.” Your makeup is probably ruined, mascara running down your face and making you look like a clown. You’re in full costume now!

“I can hug you.” 

He’s not the best with words, would rather hear them than say them out loud. But that’s exactly why he’s good when needed, taking his time choosing the perfect set of consonants and vowels. Your friend is right, he can hug you. He doesn’t like it very much, but he will do it for you (because he can and it will make you feel better, without hurting him in any way, only making him slightly uncomfortable). And maybe you feel too brave, overestimating your emotional strength and giving in. But when his arms wrap around your back and pull you in, one hand resting at the back of your neck and stroking your hair, you break down again. 

You can feel his body tense as you snap, holding him tightly and pressing your face against his lower belly. 

“I-It’s just- He’s so-” You say between hiccups. “It hurts Sho, a-and he’s so pretty a-and I- just” 

He doesn’t interrupt you, doesn’t lie and tell you it’s okay, that you’ll get over him because he’s a dick and you’re perfect. That you deserve much better, he’ll come back running in a week! He doesn’t say any of that, because he doesn’t believe it. And maybe that hurts even more, truly realizing he won’t come back even though you do need him. Even if he does need you as well. 

“He’s so happy! A-nd I want- I want him to be happy! But he just- he won’t even loo-look at me!” You let go to grab a handful of toilet paper and blow your nose. Shouto is too nice to have your boogers all over his perfect dress shirt. “I just want to at least- hic - be his friend! That’s all i ask! T-to have a nice c-chat, I can tell him about my life- I work with hi-is parents! His mom loves me!” It doesn’t make any sense what you’re saying, but he can picture an image of what you’re getting at. “Four years, we dated for four years!” More boogers. “A-and now he won’t say hi! No hello, how are you!” You hold your head in your hands, squishing your cheeks in a lame attempt to get your shit together. But your eyes are blurry, and your nose is red. “A-nd it’s all my-y fault” It comes out mixed with a sob, it’s ugly and makes Shouto want to cry too.

He doesn’t take sides, because Bakugou is his friend too. But you’ve been here longer, you know him better and he himself is also in love with an idiot. Shouto knows what it is like to trust someone with your heart and decide they’ll be in charge of it, forever. If Izuku ever- If he even thought of leaving him, of saying goodbye and never talk to him again. He has to take a deep breath and clear his head, that is not happening and it’s not smart of him to join you in this delusion. You need him. Even if it means he’ll have to kick some blonde ass.

-

“Here, take these to the kitchen please.” Momo hands him a tray with all the used cups, including your half empty one. 

You had left a while ago, with Todoroki (of all people) trailing behind. Don’t do this to yourself. Bakugou agreed to come tonight because it was an invitation from his friend, a very busy one he hadn’t seen in over a year. Your presence wasn’t an obstacle big enough to ruin his night. But as he places the metal tray on top of the kitchen counter his mind travels back to your kicked puppy face, legs curled up against your chest and shiny eyes covered in something unbearably sad. He had been rude. He could see it in Mina's not so subtle, deep sighs and Ochako’s knuckle cracking. He’s been behaving like that all evening, pushing you away and ignoring you for the sake of his own well-being. There was a time in high school, after the war and just before he and Deku became friends again, when he had behaved similarly. He felt guilty, so horribly guilty, that he decided to push him away- to focus on bettering himself, he had said. But everyone knew he just couldn’t face the nerd’s forgiving smile and shiny eyes, ready to talk to him, ready to be friends again. And you had done the same, not so forgiving and not so shiny, but ready to forget. The very one thing he could never do.

On his way back to the living room, he decides to take a detour, a wrong turn that leads him to the bathroom you had run to half an hour ago. Shouto is in there with you. His steps grow quicker, cursing the rich for such large, useless corridors, and his mind as well, for making him doubt his friend’s loyalty. He’s in love with shitty Deku, he’s gay. But you’re you, perfect and lovable. And Bakugou is an irrational, jealous man.

When he (finally) reaches your location, his hands in fists by his sides, it takes him an embarrassing amount of strength to knock on the door. He only takes notice of your crying once it comes to a halt- forced, as if you’re trying to patch up a dam with hello kitty stickers.

The door slides open and Todoroki’s tall frame hides you from his prying eyes.

And maybe it’s his crazy mind playing tricks on him, but he swears he looks mad, straightening his stand to seem bigger- just like he had done during dinner.

“Bakugou.” He acknowledges his presence with a sour tone (he’s ready to punch him in the teeth, but Bakugou doesn’t know it.)

“Let me talk to her.” Without waiting for an answer, he moves to push past his slender body, only to be met with an unmoving brick wall, iron grip on the door separating him from you. 

“She doesn’t want to see you right now. Talk later or tell me what you wanna say, I promise I’ll give the message once she feels better.” Because she trusts you, not me? Because you stayed and I left? He doesn’t really say (or think) any of that, and Bakugou knows it.

Still- “Todoroki, fucking move.” He doesn’t yell, because he knows Todoroki and he recognizes that stare. He’s being serious. “Give me ten minutes, go help the others and I’ll be right back.”

The lightness in his words make Shouto’s stomach twist. As if ten minutes were enough to fix the damage he’s done. 

“Bakugou, I'm not gonna leave her. She’s my friend!” As if he’d let him hurt you again.

“She’s my friend too!” He's mad but his eyes are watery, tears threatening to fall. For a second Shouto considers it, giving him one last chance.

But it’s not his decision to make, and he’s already promised he’ll keep you safe. “It doesn’t look like it.” Todoroki mumbles under his breath as he turns around and reaches for the door.

Bakugou doesn’t move to stop him, just watches him go back into the bathroom and close the door right on his face.

-

The next time you see him he's sitting on the sidewalk, right across from your apartment entrance. Bakugou has his fingers locked behind his neck, eyes facing the pavement and big suitcase by his side. You consider turning around and pretend you never saw him, playing dumb like you always do and fleeting. He's scary when he's not mad, his heart open and so vulnerable it burns.

But you know it's not fair, it's not easy to get him this way. So you stay, clearing your throat to get his attention and waiting for the wave to crash into you.

"Hey, sorry to show up like this." Red eyes scan your face for any sign of rejection, any reason for him to stop.

You nibble on your lip, ripping apart the surface layer of dried skin.

Hm.

"I-I wanted to say sorry, for what happened during Christmas." He swallows. "It- I was mean, thought I could see you and be fine but, I guess I'm still a bit of a bitch."

Bakugou rarely says sorry, you're always temped to accept his apologies when they happen.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Though you do want him to, worry about it. About you. You want him to try, but you can't ask it of him.

"No, it's not. I made you cry, and now Shouto is mad at me- as he should be, honestly, I acted like such a dick-" A sigh interrupts his rant, shaky and genuine.

You stay silent, both staring at the ground and waiting for the other to deliver the final punch. It's funny, how you always seem to end up stuck in the same situation, over and over again. Knowing you have to let go of each other, but not finding the strength to do so.

"You're leaving today?" You jut out your lips and point at his suitcase. Still the same you, with the same traits. Bakugou wants to smile, eyes fixed on your face, the familiar sight now a sting in his guts. How could he hate you?

"Yeah, I'm a bit late actually but- they can wait."

Hm.

People can always wait when it comes to Bakugou Katsuki. If he asked, you'd do it too.

"Well, I just- guess that's it." Of course it is.

Too close to be friends.

Too hurt to be lovers.

"Have a safe flight."

Back to strangers again.

5.(bittersweet)

The charity event takes place in the Todoroki mansion, soon to be turned into a museum filled with Endeavor’s accomplishments. You’re sure Shouto is out there somewhere, maybe standing by the koi ponds and staring off into the water, counting the minutes for it all to be over. So you don’t bother looking for him, it’s to no use trying to snap him out of his trance when he’s like this. 

Though you’re no hero, it’s not uncommon for support engineers to be invited alongside them- especially when you’re friends with the ones up in the charts. The media has gotten used to your face by now, spreading dating rumors here and there that you never address and if you’re lucky promoting your work (how cool they are, how hot the heroes look).

You spot his navy blue suit next to Hawks, his loud laugh impossible to miss. There’s at least four young heroes surrounding them, and it’s surprising to see Bakugou isn’t frowning or shooing them away with a growl. Then you remember that’s not Bakugou, it’s Dynamight. The hero has climbed the charts along with his friends after coming back home, he got a PR team and finally started working on his image. You see his face on plastic cups and children’s lunch boxes, makeshift costumes of his own hero suit crowding the streets every time he wins a fight against a big villain. Dynamight didn’t do well outside of Japan, coming back home after two years, and still isn’t very welcomed out there. But in here? He’s a God. Talks to the press however he pleases but has his own favorite reporters, the ones he trusts will tell the story right- the same ones that get him to do a photoshoot or play a question game with his fans, silly stuff you never thought you’d see him doing. His image has been humanized, brought down to earth for mortals to touch and admire from up close. In your opinion, he’s too close. Too bright at first. You’d like to say you’ve gotten used to it, because what else could you do? Still it’s pathetic, how your stomach twists everytime his face shows up in the big billboard right in front of your balcony, a few buildings away. He doesn’t smile, but he grins, proudly. It’s not quite the same smile you knew, but it’s close enough to hurt. 

He’s single, no kids, no wife. You try not to think about it because it makes you happy, and it shouldn’t make you happy. It doesn’t mean anything. There have been rumors about him and other heroes, but Shouto has always been quick to point out their falsehood- though you never ask him, it’s always him who brings up the subject. Dynamight and Shouto are seen together pretty often, wearing merch of each other and fighting for the fourth place, making sure to catch the awfulest villains they can find and showing off while they’re at it. Neither of them are known for their charisma, unlike Deku who has won the hearts of every civilian in Japan, but they try. 

Still, Shouto and Katsuki are not that close, opting for keeping their private lives separated and secluding to their friend groups. But they do see each other from time to time, at birthday parties and weddings- their hero skins long forgotten. You know they’d be closer if it weren’t for you, and it fills you with guilt every time you see them together. It’s crystal clear how much of Katsuki has stuck to Shouto, you see it in his humor, in his grin, and there’d be more if you hadn’t messed with each other’s hearts. 

And you. You’re closer to Katsuki than your friend is, or will ever be.

After years of working for his parents you’ve accepted his luring presence in the workshop, which then turned to his shadow walking down the office floors halls. You’ve made sure to figure out a way to avoid him, feigning innocence when you enter Mitsuki’s office- I brought you coffee! How is the winter collection going? -, eyes roaming her calendar in search of his name. She knows, and you know because after the third time she started highlighting his visits in orange (for office visits) and green (suit try ons). During orange days you go down to the workshop, taking the opportunity to teach your youngest engineers a trick or two, pretending you’re actually there for them and not for the sake of your teary eyes. Green days are even easier, you’re a big figure in the Bakugou’s industry so there’s no need for you to get your hands dirty with grease, staying within the confines of your private office and checking out projects that need your approval to get started. Dynamight’s suit is one you have memorized by now, always coming in with a detail to fix or a weapon to improve, so you make sure to get the documents sent directly to you- if they were to fall on someone else’s hands they could do it wrong, requiring your assistance later on during the fitting process and that’s an interaction you can’t afford to have. 

Bakugou knows it’s you who patches him up (or his suit, but he likes to think he’s one with it). Still he always asks who’s responsible for the new design, whose idea it was to improve the safety measures he had foregone last time. And the answer is always the same. In some way he feels cared for, it’s a bitter sensation because it’s directly linked up to you. Yet he can’t bring himself to ask for a different person. You may have broken his heart, losing his trust just like he did with yours, but he knows you won’t do the same to Dynamight- you rarely make mistakes, and you certainly won’t make the same mistake twice. Sometimes he finds himself wishing you did. He stands still as your freshman fastens the grenades at his wrists, hopefully looking out the workshop window that lets the light of the hall spill in, waiting to see your face. It never happens, he knows you hide in your office whenever he enters the building, and run down to the machines when he calls for a meeting with his team. That last one makes him lose his marbles. He’s had more than enough arguments with his parents, who let you do as you please and take cover under their wings. You haven’t shown up to a single one of those meetings, though you should be there as his designated engineer. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of it, of his team. 

“Katsuki, has she ever messed up your suit? Huh? No, she hasn’t, so quit your whining and let our colleague do her work. It’s not her fault she’s busy! If she ever has time for your meetings she will be there.” 

His mom is your number one defender, and he can’t comprehend why. Maybe she’s still mad at him for leaving all those years back (or maybe she’s found in you what she wasn’t allowed to love in him). It’s a dangerous thought, one that doesn’t deserve the time and effort to be dissected and put up for study. He knows where it’s rooted and that’s enough. 

Mitsuki never mentions your name, only refers to you as their “colleage” and it drives him insane. But he knows it’s already a lost fight, not worth getting his hands dirty for. 

Katsuki hates any sort of event. It doesn’t matter if it’s for charity, or if it’ll improve his image- this is not what he signed up for, he should be out there fighting crime. He can feel his manager’s eyes digging into his back, analazying his stand and the tone of his voice as he interacts with the rookies. There’s flashes going off in the distance and- how the hell is Hawks so good at this? 

You’re watching too, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to restrain himself from going over and talk to you. It’s been like this for years now, his chest flooding with the urge to say all those things he didn’t say back then and overlapping with what he actually wants to say to you right now. How pretty you look, how much he liked the suit’s latest upgrade. Katsuki has questions that die half way up his throat, choking him to exhaustion. How have you been? Do you still hate him? Are you seeing anyone? Are your parents okay?

His thorax expands and keeps the air inside for a few seconds, slowly exhaling. Katsuki can see you from the corner of his eye, chatting with a waitress, probably waiting for Shouto to come out of his sulk room. His friend hates these events even more than he himself does, but he can’t find pity for Shouto when you’re left all alone in a crowded space.

Dynamite excuses himself and moves out of the group of people circling him, sending Hawks a knowing look- I need a minute. The hybrid is quick to understand, eyes flying to your form and back to Bakugou, eyebrows rising in warning, teasingly. 

The bulky hero makes his way towards you, but you tell yourself he’s going somewhere else. Katsuki wouldn’t dare feed the rumors, he wouldn’t-

Before you can finish that thought, the host gets up on stage and greets the guests. Pro Hero Dynamight stops in his tracks, just a few steps from you. The soury feeling makes him snort, always so close but never quite enough. 

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” A Present Mic knock off screams into the microphone and half the crowd cover their ears. “As you all know, this is a very special day, for today we’re putting down our weapons and raising our wallets in collaboration to Tokio’s Children’s Hospital!” 

Some laugh, some don’t. Bakugou shifts in place, right hand holding a glass of champagne his lips haven’t touched all night. Meanwhile, you’re downing the golden liquid like it’s water, hands clutched over a purse he guesses is brand new, and probably empty (save for your phone). These things always get your nerves on edge, taking care of who you are seen interacting with- mostly criticizing hero suits from your seat amongst your coworkers. But today you’re alone, the only other designers present are part of the rival team and it wouldn’t be good for the Bakugou’s to have their head engineer seen fraternizing with the enemy. 

And Bakugou himself would never approach you in any social situation, it’s a silent agreement between you two that’s been going on for ages. He doesn’t come close, and you stay put, each of you minding your own business. Still that doesn’t stop him from sending you emails meant for his team, because you are part of- 

Katsuki sighs, a heavy sigh. He’s getting tired of your limits, of you running away and avoiding any sort of confrontation involving him. He’s tired of sitting back and giving you space, would rather not see you ever again at all instead of catching glimpses of you around the office, down at the workshop, here at events and galas- with your pretty dresses, fresh face of make up, nervous fingers tapping on your thighs. 

Bakugou Katsuki would never come near you, because he can’t. But Dynamight, basically your boss, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. 

“He’s a bit of an idiot, don’t you think?” His voice is low, whispered, straddling you and sending you forwards, stumbling over your own steps. 

The heroes surrounding you, the few that stayed at the back ignoring the host’s silly jokes, turn to look at you and some even offer their steady hand. You mumble out a string of apologies, eyes down avoiding red ambers. Bakugou-Dynamight swallows, straightents his back and takes a step closer. He’s head to shoulder with you, strong jawline hovering over your form. 

“Why are you so jumpy?”

“Why are you talking to me?” He scoffs at your answer, moody stare making it’s way to his face. 

“Because you’re Dynamight’s support engineer, and he has to talk to you about his suit.” The third person speech makes him cringe, the glass in hand suddenly too inviting.

“Well, Mr. Dynamite can send me an email once he gets home.” You greet your teeth, scowling him for his trespassing.

Once you''ve regained your balance, hands going over your dress to smooth out ny wrinkle, you take a minute to look up at him.

“Bakugou I thought we were on the same page here.”

He rolls his eyes at that, though it’s the first time he’s heard you call for him in so long, it doesn’t sound right. Because his father is a Bakugou, and his mother is too. You have to pronounce that word everytime someone asks you who you work for, what’s the name of the company. It no longer holds the same meaning, you’re not referring to him. 

“Fuck off, you know we’ve never been on the same page.” He’s ruining it, his chance at mending things. Though he’s not so sure that’s what he wanted in the first place. For once in his life he has no plan.

“You’re the one who came up to me, you fuck off!”

“That’s not- I just wanted to talk, like normal people. Can’t we do that?” He’s greeting his teeth too, looking ahead and jaw clenching. 

It’s surprising, seeing him making the first move, to be him the one asking to talk. “So what, you want to be friends now?”

“Fuck no.” It’s an accident, he doesn’t mean to spit it out like that, to refuse your hand like it’s burning hot. But it’s the truth, he can’t do it, not with you.

You’re silent, staring as his mask falls off. For someone used to facing villains all day he sure as hell isn’t as brave as he thinks he is. 

“Should’ve known, you still don’t have the balls to do it.” 

Again you’re young and stupid, waiting for him to start a fight you can win. 

“I thought that was a given.” Dynamight turns to look at you in all his handsome glory, blonde locks cut short and emerald green studs decorating his earlobes. And then his words sink down. 

Your frowns break at the same time, anger turning into giggles you try to fight back. 

“Can’t believe you’re doing trans jokes now.” It’s not a critic, it’s impressive how much he’s grown and how much confidence he’s gained over time. 

“Yeah, well. The fans love it, and I gotta admit it feels good.” You can tell. 

Pro Hero Dynamight didn’t really come out, at least not like other heroes do. One day he simply appeared on tv, sitting on Red Riot’s shoulders as they marched alongside their friends during pride, a pink, blue and white flag tied to his neck. His PR team jumped for his head, begging him to go out on interviews and explain what that was all about. The Bakugou’s building entrance had been flooded with reporters for days, waiting for the hero to show up to a suit try on or trying to catch him leaving. But he had paid them no mind, never really addressing the “issue”. Some were disappointed, because their favorite hero wasn’t speaking up and using his voice to reach millions of people and fight against transphobes, threatening to cancel him on social media and showing up in his manager’s nightmares. Others understood.

It took a whole year for it all to die down, and one more for the public to stop referring to him as the trans hero, going back to his actual hero name. You’d wanted to reach out to him back then, but Katsuki had his friends and you had your own problems.

Now seeing where he is, how far he’s come, it fills you up with pride. A bit of an uncomfortable feeling, somewhat forbidden but so familiar. 

“That’s-that’s great, I’m happy for you.” 

It comes out shaky, your voice betraying you. 

Dynamight hums, licking his lips and pursing them together. Thinking. 

“Are you- How are you doing? I mean, you seem fine but- I don’t know.” He’s cute when he gets awkward, even cuter if he stutters (but that rarely happens).

The crowd begins to move away from the stage, dissipating through the room and falling back into pleasant chatter. 

“Yes- Yes I’m fine, I’m good.”

“Good, good.” 

You stare at him and he stares back, more questions burning at the tip of your tongue. Do you miss me? Can we still be friends? But you already know the answer, and it’s clear things won’t work out. 

“I’m leaving for the U.S next week.” You know, Mitsuki won’t stop crying about it. “Just for a month but, yeah…” 

You hum and nod, and look down at your hands holding on to your stupid purse. No it wouldn’t work out. 

This right here THIS IS IIIIIIT

Men that still get shy when you tell them how attractive they are to you :((

Their cheeks get all hot and flushed, they still get a weird, funny feeling in their tummy. They still try to cover their mouth to hide the bashful smile that makes it’s way to their face, but it’s fruitless because you’re always pulling that hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

They still get flustered when you tell them that you want them to fuck you, that they’re so hot and you’re so wet, even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a reaction. He’s simply manspreading on your living room sofa, mindlessly scrolling through channels when you make yourself known on his lap.

It’s subtle, at first. You press innocent kisses to his cheek and he can’t help the quirk in his lip. The smile itching its way. You trail to his neck, kisses getting a bit slower, wetter. He’s not so sure it’s innocent anymore. You start sucking on his jugular and he has to grit his teeth to prevent the groan that’s aching to come out. And when you add teeth? He’s gone.

You don’t even have time to register before he’s got you pinned underneath him on the sofa, veiny hand gripping your throat to suck his own marks into the skin. “Can’t even relax on the couch without you trying to fuck me.” He tuts, annoyed, though you know he’s anything but. 

He grinds his hard length into you and you can’t help but moan at the delicious friction. “You just looked s’good. I can’t help it!” You whine into his neck, and he’s thankful you can’t see the slight blush that makes its way to his face.

He composes himself before deciding to take pity, pulling his shorts halfway down his legs while you pull your panties to the side. You’re both too eager so you settle for rubbing against each other. The head of his cock brushes your clit just right, and you’re so wet, he’s sure he could just slip in.

It doesn’t take long before you’re both cumming, your clit throbbing against his cock, while he paints your cute, pudgy tummy white. 

It’s just not fair, you make him feel like a schoolboy.

— TOJI, NANAMI, YUUTA, Geto, BAKUGO, Iida, Izuku, AIZAWA, Enji, LEVI, ERWIN, Reiner, Armin, IWAIZUMI, Ushijima, OSAMU, Tsukishima, RINDO, Draken, Giyu, SANEMI, ILLUMI, ZORO, Ace, LAW