brivetaroundtown

[brivetaroundtown]

I'm always a little baffled whenever I see manga readers surprised that series that ended less than a year ago still have high sales. Sure, My Hero Academia and Jujutsu Kaisen both released their last chapters in 2024, but in both cases their final volume wasn't released in Japan until December, and the English (and other translations) volumes are still being released (BNHA's final volume releases in English in October 2025 and JJK won't be done with the English releases until ~May 2026).

And even if the sales being tracked are region exclusive (ie: Japanese sales), the thing about art that tells a story (film and television, literature, manga/comics and graphic novels) is that they don't stop existing after that story has concluded. My favorite movie is The Princess Bride and it was released nearly a decade before I was born. I only started reading One Piece two years ago. In ten years some kid is going to pick up Naruto for the first time and buy every volume because they want the physical copies.

Just because the story is over doesn't mean the love people have for it is gone.

[brivetaroundtown]

i will never forgive the internet for making the phrase “fiction affects reality” inherently suspicious because like fiction absolutely does affect reality in the sense that the themes and messages of media can challenge or affirm people’s biases, it can impact one’s ideology, so much of fiction is commentary on real social issues

and yet! everyone who uses the phrase fiction affects reality is using it as a pro-censorship argument and i simply do not fuck with that

[brivetaroundtown]

crazy embarrassing time to be a us american rn

[brivetaroundtown]

no bc i dont think i've ever really ranted about how foreplay starts at the breakfast table is like the most Real and True shit i've ever seen in my life foreplay starts when they bring you your coffee with a little too long kiss and clutch your face and brush your hair off of your neck and it continues when they squeeze your waist while saying bye and heading out the door perhaps even steeling a cheeky little squeeze even lower and then it continues when you spend all day thinking about how a single pair of fingers sliding across the dip of your waist is making you squirm bc foreplay begins at the breakfast table

[brivetaroundtown]

This gripe is not directed here, but towards other platforms I as an author am forced to exist on when I wish I could be under my desk working on a novella.

But. If I see one more post about how it's "cringe" to self plug your work. Istg. Look me in my queer brown eyes. No one else is going to say my name or put my work in the ring for me.

If I want to be a part of a conversation or have any opportunity I have to put myself forward. In this era of abysmal publishing support even trad authors like me are out here hustling. We are doing it all, publicity, appearances, book swag all out of our pockets, during time we could be writing. All while publishing throws massive deals at white dudes who don't even have a book written!!

Do you think I've worked this hard, kicking down literally hundreds of doors slammed in my face to publish a book to give a single shit if it might be cringe to put my hat in the ring????

[brivetaroundtown]

Rude

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content [minors dni!!], established relationship, oral [f!receiving], bakugou being a motherfucking tease.

Word count: 1.8k

---

“Ugh… Why do you always gotta be like that, Kat?”

KATSUKI’S mouth leaves your pussy with a wet pop! at the question you whine into the vast space of his tidy living room. 

The place is dark with the late hour; the turned on television being the sole exception of shedding some light to the otherwise pitch-black room.

Every change of scene and camera angle to come from the movie both you and him are currently too preoccupied to watch, causes oddly-shaped shadows to dance on the walls that are tastefully covered in prime artwork.

Your eyes have trouble following the shifting and thrashing of dark versus light from how badly you wish to flutter them shut. The pure, unrelenting bliss you're feeling in that exact moment is hard to endure. It makes your eyelids heavy with lust.

The noise that creeps up from the busy street several floors below the chic apartment sounds faint in comparison to your hammering pulse. Chatter, occasional traffic and music from countless bars fill your ears every second. Sure, the city might be buzzing with life at half past two in the morning, but you are goddamn crackling with it.

And your boyfriend is to blame for it.

Looking down - past your heaving chest and trembling stomach - you now busy yourself by eyeing the glimmer of the thin strings of saliva that bridge the narrow, but empty space between his mouth and your throbbing cunt.

The sight is peculiar. Hot. His warm drool clings to his plump bottom lip and produces a delicious sheen on the tender flesh that’s currently in the colour of ripe cherries from all the kisses he’s left right between your trembling legs so far.

The lewd connection snaps as soon as a grin, that you can best describe as purely wicked, breaks his lips apart. Katsuki smiles down at you, now - big and broad, as is the normalcy for him. But no matter how many times he has graced you with that exact same beam, the flash of teeth is still as chill-inducing just as it was the first time.

His voice is a purr of a feline; a rasp that’s gone coarse from need, “Like what, pretty?”

Your brow furrows in annoyance at the way he taunts you now, exactly like he always does. His eyes are a dark carmine and they glimmer with carnal mischief through a gaze that’s hooded from sleepy lust as he curls the two thick digits that he still has nestled deep inside you. 

He pushes them in right to the beaten-up knuckles in one obnoxiously laggard shove, forcing your sugary slick to trickle right into his broad palm in decent droplets that he can’t wait to lap up. The sharp gasp you voice in response is awfully indecent, but it might just be his favourite one to come from you, if he doesn’t count the pretty moans of his name and the way you laugh when you’re truly happy, of course.

Katsuki might not show it, but the tremendous need you exhibit for him, both in sexual and more tender aspects, makes his heart melt into a jelly-like substance underneath all the hard exterior he otherwise flaunts in front the eyes of the world and its pesky media. 

But no matter how rough and tough he tries to represent himself as, the simple truth is there: he goes soft when he’s desired. Turns compassionate when depended upon. So much so, in fact, that it might be turning him into a, dare he say it, somewhat of a romantic after two years of steady dating with you - his wonderful, albeit sometimes annoyingly fussy, girlfriend.

“Kat, baby,” you huff in that exact fussy tone that makes his blood boil in all the right ways and brings him back to reality, “stop acting like an idiot and gimme what I want.”

“Tsch.” The way he clicks his tongue against his teeth in faux disapproval makes your chest tighten. He knows you want to get slammed on his cock. Knows it damn well, and yet he refuses to give it to you, because you're acting bratty and brats need to be taught a lesson. A stern one.

He’s smirking as he says, “And if I don’t?”

Your dainty fingers tremble as they wrap around his wrist when you try to shove his hand away in answer. However, no matter how tightly you try to squeeze your legs together to keep him at bay, Katsuki refuses to budge, forcing them right back apart until you're splayed before him like a meal he's eager to dig in.

It’s a losing battle you’re fighting, let's be honest. He’s much too strong for you to overtake physically, with all that rippling muscle and masculine vigour he's got going on, and much too stubborn to be persuaded into yielding with the equally as potent obstinacy that he had inherited from his mother.

Both his body and mind are made out of pure iron. He could break you with his bare hands, but piece you back together just as well. It’s a blessing and a curse; just another list of pros and cons that accompany dating a pro hero, you suppose.

Your train of thought is broken by a rush of heat that flows through your lower stomach when he applies more pressure to your hot insides and presses his thumb against your swollen clit. He rubs tight, little circles on it, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as fire begins to lick and nip at your skin.

Damn him. He's too good. There’ll be nothing but ash left of you if he keeps this up.

“Mm, I hate you s'much,” you grit out through clenched teeth, eyes blinking profusely in attempt to squeeze shut or roll into the back of your head, you don't know which one, “so, so much.” 

“C’mon, baby,” Katsuki mutters, watching every twitch and wiggle your feverish body gives at his torturous touch, “don’t be rude like that.”

Your eyes shoot wide open in pure bewilderment before they narrow just as quickly as you try to glare at him. He’s chuckling at your pouty expression now; one corner of his lips quirking upwards at the way heat sears your face and makes you just too fucking cute to take seriously. 

“Ex-Excuse me?” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. What you’re enduring. “You’re the rude one!”

Your spine lifts from the couch in a perfect arch all of a sudden as he strokes that soft, gushy spot he’s a master at finding, making you mewl and cry out like a pathetic kitten underneath him. You’re writhing from how good he is at pressing all the right buttons. At how good he is at fucking you with his fingers.

“Me?” He hums like he’s seemingly deep in thought, the warmth of his breath causing goosebumps to form over your thighs when it fans your skin as soon as he lowers his head between your legs again, “Rude?”

“Yeah… Fuck, Kat… You, mm… You really are an idiot.” Your voice breaks into something more primal and high-pitched when his mouth finds your pussy again.

He parts his lips gently as he sucks your clit into his mouth; warm, drool-coated tongue darting out in viciously delicious attacks of pure expertise. God help you, he's so good at this. Too good.

A low grunt leaves the back of his throat when he once again tastes how sweet you are, the tip of his nose pressing so harshly against your pelvis that it scrunches up against you until wrinkles etch the bridge of it. 

He quickens his pace with those wonderfully rough fingers, calloused pads stroking your velvety walls and sending your heartbeat into overdrive. He looks so hot eating you out like that; cheeks tinted red and eyes of the same colour glazed from how good you taste as your heels keep digging into his broad, muscular back and your fingers insist on running through his damp ash blonde hair.

You’re going to burst. You’re going to fucking erupt into absolute euphoria and float far, far away, until he has to grab you by the goddamn ankles and drag you down from heaven. 

If he even lets you reach heaven, that is.

You can literally feel an icy shiver of anticipation tumbling down your spine as he keeps pleasuring you, despite the fact that your skin is hot and covered in sweat. The salt to riddle you makes you stick to the fancy throw blanket that you insisted he buy to make his apartment feel more homey and that’s now twisting and crumpling underneath you.

You’re losing brain cells and the ability to speak coherently when his tongue plunges into your tight, sopping hole. Head tipping back into the cushion, you realize that he’s going to ruin you like this. That he's going to swallow you whole, until there’s nothing left of you but a pleasant memory he might or might not keep.

“Kat, I-I’m so close,” you whimper, hips bucking upward in apparent need, “so, so close, baby… Fuck, please. Please, don’t stop, god.”

But Katsuki does just that. He stops just when you’re ready to become undone. He leaves you clenching around nothing and your clit unattended just when you’re about to tip over the edge. Of course he does - the absolute fucker.

He’s smiling at you now, the beam more of a naughty smirk than anything else as he keeps kissing your poor pussy over and over again. The fact that you’re on the cusp of crying and that hot tears are visibly lining your waterline from how fucking frustrated you are is making his pants tighten to an unbearable degree. 

God, he loves seeing you like this - yearning and dumb from raw emotion. All because of him. It makes his cock throb and he just knows it’s going to hurt when he at long last shoves it inside that cute cunt of yours. Knows that he’s going to make you cry for real when he makes you bounce on it; all hot and bothered.

But all in due time. He's way more patient than he used to be.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, each open-mouthed affection he places on you sending electricity coursing through your core, “I didn’t mean to stop, but I guess I’m an idiot just like you said, huh? Lemme make it up by trying again, yeah? I promise I'll do better. So fuckin' better.” 

Some would understand his words and the way he offers you one toe-curling, languid swipe as an apology of sorts, but you know your alluringly rough-around-the-edges boyfriend better than that. Know that the shadows of iniquity to haunt his crimson eyes mean something entirely else.

They spell game over. Battle lost. After all, nobody calls him names and gets away with it. Not even you. Especially you.

Because he’s Katsuki Bakugou - forever the rude tease.

And he’s going to make you pay first before he makes you cum.

[brivetaroundtown]

Finding out people are actually slash gen not taught to Actually Read in school in favor of just looking at the words for half a second and keeping it moving whether you understand it or not is crazy but does explain a lot of things

[brivetaroundtown]

Mirror

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We like sleepy rainy days and sarcastic commentary on documentaries 💜 just one of those men that always have to kiss your hand, insert Le swoon here

And OF COURSE @fittsysart did it not once but TWICE!! I am so in love with this commission as well, it’s just perfect perfect perfect

[brivetaroundtown]

The King of Bear Hugs and no one can tell me different!

@fittsysart you are incredible, thank you so much for creating this self ship masterpiece!!!

[brivetaroundtown]

notion | k. bakugo | 3

M.list | prev

Summary: Katsuki drove all the way to Tokyo just for you to comfort him. But will you? Even when you learn that the fight with his mother ended up being about you?

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors do not interact, oral (f&mreceiving), throat fucking, cunnilingus, facesitting, spitting, fingering, fwb, part , jealousy, slight angst, looooooads of comfort, endless mutual pining, p in v sex, creampies, cumflation, extreme sex marathons, mating press, missionarry, Scissors position (m&f), multiple orgasms, bakugo fucks the feminism out of us-really, slight somno???(they fall asleep during sex), cockwarming, rough sex, sloppy kissing, hair pulling, biting, reader is absolutely cockdrunk / bakugo is pussydurnk, overstimulation. All characters are 20+

Paring: Bakugo Katsuki x reader

Katsuki arrives at 5.22am. Just a bit before you come bursting out of a cab, trying to hide your stumbling as you close the car door carefully. You’re startled by him, clearly not expecting him at this hour tonight, or even at all. 

You freeze for half a second, debating whether to acknowledge him or pretend you didn’t see him. But it’s pointless—his red eyes are already locked on you, scanning, assessing, narrowing slightly as he takes in the state you’re in. The wrinkled clothes, the faint smell of alcohol clinging to your jacket, the unsteady way you shift your weight.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue, pushing off the wall. “The hell is this?”

You exhale with a sigh, steadying yourself. “What are you doing here, Katsuki?”

“Waiting for your dumbass, apparently.” He jerks his chin toward you. “You’re late.”

Late for what? You don’t remember agreeing to meet him at the crack of dawn. You don’t even remember texting to meet him in the first place. The night is a blur of drinks and conversation. You’d ended up getting another drink, then another, then somehow ended up in a cab back home without fully processing how.

You rub at your temple. “Did I… say I’d meet you?”

He’s leaning against the entrance of your building, arms crossed, looking irritated. But there’s something else there, too, beneath the usual scowl. Something that makes your already-clouded mind sharpen just a little.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask, voice low, like you’re afraid of showing him a sign that you’re fed up with such schemes.

He scoffs. “What, I need a reason?”

You let out a slow breath, trying to steady yourself again as you wobble on your heels. Your head is still buzzing from the drinks, your limbs heavy with exhaustion, but Katsuki standing here—at this hour, in this place—demands your full attention.

“You came all the way to Tokyo in the middle of the night, so yeah a reasoning would be good”

He hasn’t seen you in two months. Not since you started skipping your usual weekend trips back to Musutafu. Not since you started making excuses, too tired, too busy, too something to go home. But he knows the truth. He's so fed up with feelings and excuses—And now he’s here.

You look at him more closely, and it clicks. He’s not in his hero gear. He’s in sweatpants and a hoodie, hands shoved into the pockets. He came here like this—just got up and left, like he didn’t care where he was going, just that he had to go.

“Did you fight with your mom?” you ask, the answer already obvious.

His jaw tightens. “Tch. Who gives a shit?”

You do.

But you don’t say that. You just nod, glancing toward your building. “You wanna come up?”

He exhales sharply, like he wants to argue, like this isn’t exactly what he came for—but he follows you inside anyway.

The elevator ride is quiet, except for the hum of the machinery. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. It’s been four years since you stopped being more than this—whatever “this” is—but somehow, the silence between you still feels the same.

When you reach your apartment, you kick off your shoes and toss your jacket onto the nearest chair. Katsuki lingers near the door for a second before sighing and dropping onto the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees, face finding awkward comfort between his palms.

“You been avoiding me?” he asks.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t know the answer, but because you don’t know if you want to tell him the truth.

Instead, you deflect. “You drove all the way to Tokyo in the middle of the night to ask me that?”

Katsuki exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before glaring at you like you’re the problem here. “Obviously.”

You stare. “That’s like three hours.”

“An hour and a half.”

You blink. “You were speeding?”

“Not the point,” he snaps, leaning back against your bed frame, eyes flickering away. He’s tense in a way that has nothing to do with you. His fingers flex where they rest against his thighs, and there’s something off in his posture—something you only recognize because you used to know him better than anyone.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “What happened?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just tugs at the hem of his hoodie, like he’s considering whether he even wants to say it. Finally, he mutters, “Dumbass fight.”

“With your mom?”

A scoff. “Who else?”

You don’t press, letting the quiet sit between you. He’s always been like this—reluctant with his words, like saying them out loud makes them harder to handle. But you’ve also always been good at waiting.

After a moment, he exhales, tilting his head back against the wall. “She said I work too much,” he mumbles, voice gruff. “Said I never communicate, never come home unless she drags me back.” He clicks his tongue, eyes flickering toward you. “Sound familiar?”

You shift under his gaze, but he doesn’t let you deflect this time. He doesn’t let you ask about the bruise on his face, when you notice it, when you open your mouth with your gaze burning on it. And you decide to keep the thought to your head. Ask him some other time. Bruises and wounds and scars are on the cv when you’re applying to be a hero anyway.

“Told her” he continues, after a long pause “I didn’t have time for stupid shit like that. She said I was just making excuses. That I didn’t wanna be around her, or my friends” He scoffs again, quieter this time. “Like I don’t already know that.”

Your chest tightens. Mitsuki Bakugo has never been a quiet woman. You can imagine the fight easily—her sharp words, his explosive temper, both of them too stubborn to back down. He probably stormed out the second the shouting turned personal, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled. But instead of going to Kirishima’s or driving around Musutafu to clear his head, he came here.

To you.

To fucking To-ky-o.

You don’t know what to do with that.

“So you drove all the way to Tokyo,” you murmur, shaking your head. “For what, exactly?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer right away. He’s deliberately skipped the part of the fight that included you, not wanting to put that weight on your shoulders. 

He doesn’t think it’s your fault, no, he could never blame you for a thing, despite anything you should be taking accountability for, he thinks that everything that has happened and shattered between the two of you is just him.

So, his initial response would be something like ‘so no one sets you up with Izuku’

Instead, he shifts, pulling his hood up, tagging at the strings until only his nose is visible, like he’s trying to disappear inside it. Then, barely above a grumble, he mutters, “Dunno. Just didn’t wanna be alone.”

And—Oh.

Oh.

Oh—The realization hits like a punch to the gut. You’ve seen him tired before, frustrated, even overwhelmed—but this is something else. Something softer that is buried under all his usual rough edges. He’s exhausted, and angry, and maybe just a little lost.

And for some reason, he came to you.

You, who’s stupid enough to not think Katsuki could ever fall in love with you. You, who is scared of doing something wrong because you don’t want to lose him only to end up pushing him away.

You're stupid, insane. It should have been over. A year ago. He shouldn’t be driving to see you in the monsoon. You should have gotten over it by now, but my god it’s been ten years already that you’re in love with this fucking guy.

You exhale, dragging a hand down your face before moving toward the bed. Without thinking too hard about it, you sit beside him, close enough that your legs brush. He doesn’t flinch away, but you don’t push further either. Solemnly, you notice the sweats he’s wearing were your gift from two years ago and something in your heart softens. Your eyebrows don’t hurt from thinking anymore.

“You could’ve called” you say, nudging him lightly.

He huffs. “Yeah pffft, right. And you would’ve answered?”

You wouldn’t. 

You don’t have an excuse for that.

Silence settles between you again, heavier this time. He’s tense, his shoulders wound tight like he’s waiting for you to tell him to leave. Bark at him like he’s a stray dog invading your house. Instead, you sigh and shift, leaning back against the bedframe before tilting your head onto his shoulder.

His breath catches.

He doesn’t move right away, but you feel it—the way his muscles lose some of their tension, the way his hands clench, then relax. Slowly, cautiously, he leans into you, just enough that you can tell he needs it.

Needs this. Needs you. Whatever. The lines are so blurred.

You should say something. Should probably ask him if this is a bad idea, if he’s sure. But you don’t. You just let your head rest against his shoulder, letting the quiet say everything neither of you know how to.

In this tranquility he smells divine. Like your own detergent that you know his mother uses too, mixed with the sweet scent of his skin and Argan oil shampoo.

His fingers brush against yours, hesitantly and slow, like he’s waiting for permission and you don’t pull away.

It’s been four years since you stopped being more than this. More than friends. That one year ago doesn’t even matter. Because right now, at 5:30 in the morning, after a fight that drove him across prefectures just to see you; You can’t run from this anymore.

Not with the way he’s looking at you—eyes dark, jaw clenched, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s physically holding himself back. Feeling like he’s the softest thing to graze this earth, smelling like absolute heaven.

Your pulse is a drumbeat in your throat, and fuck if this isn’t just how safety should feel. This is why he’s a hero. This is what people feel when they’re around him and you’re glad. Glad he’s fixed his temper, glad he’s worked on his attitude, you're glad he’s still himself but a part of you had always just wanted that just for yourself. 

It’s all you wanna have from him. That quiet little notion that even if whatever he’s making you feel has your heart begging to burst out of its seams, he’s not going to let it happen.

“Katsuki—”

“Why?” he cuts you off, leaning in closer.

The shift he’s making is intentional, heavy and straddling and it’s almost enough to push your legs to open so he can fill out the space between them like a perfect puzzle piece.

You shift back instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go. The bed frame is against your spine, and Katsuki is in front of you, blocking out everything else.

“I—” Your breath stumbles. “I got busy.”

“Bullshit.”

His voice is low, rough. Not loud, just firm. Accusing.Your fingers grip the blanket beneath you. 

“You don’t get to ask me that.”

“The hell I don’t.”

Another push.

Your knees nearly brush.

You should push him away. Should remind him that whatever you were to each other—it ended. Should tell him to leave, because this is dangerous, because your head is still foggy from the drinks, because if you let him any closer, you won’t be able to stop.

But you don’t. Not because you pity that he has nowhere to go. Because the truth is—You don’t want to stop him. And he knows it all too well.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, demanding. “Say you didn’t wanna see me. Because I tried to kiss you”

“That’s not the truth”

“Then it was the old hag, trying to set you up with—” he cuts his words, growling at his own self

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because you can’t say it. You can’t just casually say that you’re in love with him and everything that isn't him, hurts. Not when he’s right here, looking at you like this, like the space you desperately tried to put between you means nothing at all. Like he could burn straight through it if he wanted to.

The truth is, you wanted to protect his friendship with Izuku, you wanted to be nice, not mingle between them. And you were tired, oh so very tired when everyone, even his own mother would pester you about what they thought was best for you, like they knew better. Like you’d choose Izuku, or anyone to treat you right.

All you’ve ever wanted was to have Katsuki to yourself. Not stolen nights and neediness for sexual humanity. You want him to treat you right. You're so tired of pretending. You want him to want to fight for you. Grab you by your shoulders and smooch your lips like he’s trying to make you crazy. 

And then, like he can hear your inner thoughts he—

“Fuck this.”

Katsuki moves.

It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s everything pent-up between you, everything unsaid, everything ignored for years too long. His hands are on you before you can process it—gripping your jaw, tilting your face up, his fingers rough and warm, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

His breath fans across your lips. And he stops. Just for a second too long, he’s giving you a chance to pull away. Like he’s actually waiting, expecting for you to stop him.

You don’t stop him, you just utter “we shouldn’t” subconsciously hoping he’s going to deny your words.

“Says who? Us?”

You can’t even form a response to counter attack him. He's right. So when his lips finally crash into yours again, you meet him halfway.

It’s desperate. It’s unsteady. It’s Katsuki, and it’s you, and it’s four active years of history unraveling all at once.

His grip tightens, fingers sliding into your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. He groans into your mouth, like he’s starving, like he’s been holding this back for too damn long and he’s finally letting himself have it.

You fist your hands into his hoodie, dragging him closer, and he follows without hesitation, pressing against you, against the bed, against everything.

It’s overwhelming. It’s intoxicating. It’s everything you shouldn’t want—everything you tried to leave behind—And it’s him. Your entire being aches for him.

Katsuki breaks away just enough to breathe, forehead pressing against yours, eyes half-lidded and burning vermillion.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar,” he rasps, voice wrecked, breath uneven. “‘We should be friends’ my ass”

You swallow hard, chest heaving.

“I know.”

And when you pull him back in, you're lost in him.

Lost in the heat, the weight, the impossible pull that’s been dragging you back to him thats been coiling in your belly since the moment he showed up at your door.

But even as you drown in the intensity of his kiss, a flash of thought, an assumption, cuts through the haze.

Katsuki’s fight with his mother wasn’t just about work. It was about you. About Izuku. And god, it hits you like a cold wave crashing over fire. And fuck, you’ve been wanting to avoid this.

You pull back slightly, breathless, eyes searching his. “Katsuki—”

He doesn’t let you go far. His hands grip your waist tighter, pulling you back in, but you manage to keep enough distance to meet his gaze. “What?” he asks, voice low, but there’s just an edge of impatience threading through it.

“Why you’re really here,” you say, voice trembling just a little. “It’s about Izuku, isn’t it?”

His expression hardens instantly, the fire in his eyes flickering dangerously. “What the hell does he have to do with this?”

Your heart races, the air between you now thick with so, so much tension. 

“You’re jealous” you blurt out, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Katsuki’s grip goes rigid, his expression darkening further, further, further until his eyes are the same dark color as his bruised cheekbone.

“Yes!!” You can’t help the edge of desperation in your voice. “Katsuki we’ve talked about this. We’re friends, you don’t get to claim me because Izuku—”

“Stop.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife and he kisses you then, because he doesn’t even fucking need to claim you, because you’ve been his. “We’re not friends” and a kiss is planted on your lips with the loudest smooching sound, as if he’s proving a point here “You don’t get to say his name right now.”

You stare at him, pulling back, only ever to land his forehead to yours, confusion mixing with frustration. “But Katsuki, you can’t just ignore it! You can’t pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“Pretend?” He pulls back, running a hand through his hair, frustration, unlike yours, etched on his face. “I’m not pretending. I’m fucking furious!”

“Why?” you challenge, heart racing. “Because you’re jealous?”

He flinches at the use of the word again, eyes flashing with something too raw and fierce to name “You don’t get it!” he growls, taking a step closer, invading your space again. “It’s not just that! It’s everything!”

“Then tell me!” you demand, feeling the heat rise between you, like the air is electrified. This time it’s you who traps his lips into your mouth “Tell me why you’re here, why you care so much.”

He hesitates, breathing heavily, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull away again. But instead, he leans in, forehead pressing against yours, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Because I don’t want you to be with him.” Your lips… they brush “I can’t stand the thought of it.”

The admission hangs in the air, heavy and charged. Your heart races, and suddenly everything shifts in the snap of a second. You can see the truth behind his anger—the jealousy, the frustration, the need. It’s written all over your face too. Has been written all over your face for years.

“Then why did you fight with your mom?” you whisper. “Because she was trying to set us up?”

“Because she thinks I don’t care!” He pulls back again, hands tightening into fists. “And it’s bullshit! I came here for you, not him!”

The truth of his words washes over you, filling the cracks of doubt that had formed between you, like liquid gold on broken china. He’s here. He’s always been here, despite everything—despite the distance, the silence, the walls you put up.

“God, Katsuki,” you breathe, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on you now. It’s one thing to know he fought with his mother again and another to be explicitly told your name was involved in this fight “You didn’t have to come all the way to Tokyo. I’m not worth this fight.”

He takes another leap forward, and suddenly, he’s right in front of you, even when you don’t realise when he ever broke apart from your lips, chest heaving, eyes ablaze with emotion. “You’re wrong,” he murmurs, voice fierce. “You’re worth every damn fight. I want us to be together, normally. Not this fuck shit we’ve been doing”

And then, without warning, he crushes his lips to yours again, and this time it’s more than desperation. It’s raw and unfiltered—like he’s pouring everything he’s been holding back into this single moment that forms this kiss.

You melt against him, feeling the heat flare back to life, your body arching toward him instinctively. His hands roam over you, pulling you in, wrapping around you like he’s trying to keep you tethered to him.

It’s too much, too intense, and you know there’s no going back. Not now. Not when he’s fighting for you like this. With split lips and teeth.

When he pulls away this time, his eyes are dark and wild, breathless, and you can see the flicker of vulnerability beneath his anger. 

“I thought you didn’t want any commitment?” You accuse

“No babe, you didn’t want any commitment” he states, like it’s the truth.

“And when did I ever say that?”

“Back when I ate the fuck out of you on your couch. You said it’s weird”

You shake your head in disbelief, and even though you’re shocked by the lewdness you can feel your core clench ever so subtly by the remembrance of that night. 

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to be taught to do it to someone else? I had a big fat crush on you since high school. How was I supposed to trust that you wanted me and not my body after that?”

Katsuki stills.

His expression shifts—slightly, but enough for you to catch it. Like he’s just now realizing the weight of what you said. Like all the bravado, the jealousy, the impulsive drive across prefectures was a smokescreen to avoid this very conversation.

“That’s what you thought?” he says after a moment, voice quieter now, hoarse.

You swallow, suddenly unsure of what to make for what he said “You said you wanted practice. What was I supposed to think?”

He runs both hands through his hair, dragging them down his face like the weight of the past is finally pressing down hard on him. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Thanks,” you snap “Real comforting.”

“No—not you,” he growls, standing too, closing the gap between you in one long push. “Me.”

You stop breathing. He never, ever puts blame on you. Never.

And yet— He’s so close again, eyes burning, but this time not with anger; it’s regret. Fucking. Regret. Frustration that wants to claw out of his stomach. Something fragile that's breaking open behind his stare.

“You think I would ask anyone else for that?” he says. Voice low, deliberate. “You think I’d let anyone else teach me somethin’ that…intimate? You think I’ve ever had sex with anyone else other than you?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing back then,” he says. “I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted. Didn’t even know I was already wantin’ you that bad until I had you like that. But you said it was weird and then we just—fucked off like it didn’t happen. Kept fucking too.”

“Katsuki…”

“I thought it meant nothin’ to you,” he says, and now his voice really does waver. “So I shut up. Pretended it meant nothin’ to me too. But it wasn’t just your body I wanted. I wanted all of you, and I didn’t know how to say it without screwin’ it up, because I’m an asshole and instead of speaking up I kept demanding you give me your body, when I just wanted the after. But I never stayed after. You never stayed after. You didn’t even talk about it with our friends or…anyone.”

Your heart stutters, a pulse of heat and ache tightening in your chest.

“I didn’t want anyone else. I still don’t. I want you.”

You don’t know who moves first this time—maybe it’s both of you—but suddenly you’re wrapped around each other like the world is tilting and this is the only steady thing left. His mouth finds yours again, slower now, like he’s asking instead of just fiercely taking. Like this kiss is a promise and not a question.

You break away only long enough to whisper against his lips, “Say it again.”

He presses his forehead to yours, breath shaky. “I want you.”

Your hands tremble where they rest against his chest, just softly keeping a distance between you. “Not just tonight? Or Fridays when I come to Musutafu? Or—”

Your words are taken out of your lungs with a kiss that feels like a punch to the gut. 

It’s a Delaware smash, the full press of his body on yours that you can’t help shake off. He kisses you like he’s starved, like he hasn’t been kissing you since you landed onto the bed to talk and you’re kissing him back like you haven’t kissed anyone before.

His teeth are clashing with yours, drool is everywhere on both your cheeks and you’re not even sure if it’s his, yours— you just want him to shove his tongue down your throat like it’s even humanly possible and fuck fuck fuck you could gargle him right now. Your hands are clawing his face onto yours like you can only breathe for air against his mouth and it’s only his lungs that make him pull away for air.

Panting. He’s panting like a dog and you can’t even think.

“No.” He says, kissing the corner of your mouth, hips grinding against yours, too desperate for friction. Something, anything to slow down the fire that's consuming both of you right now.

His eyes meet yours, full of fire and something that looks such an awful, painful lot like devotion. 

“I want” he kisses your chin, then the base of your ear. It seems like an eternity away from your mouth and still, your hero manages to save your lonely mouth in time “All” kiss “the fucking” kiss “nights.”

You don’t know who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but there’s a blur of movement, and suddenly you’re underneath him, wrapped around him, mouths colliding like something violent and utterly holy. There’s nothing slow about it now. No build-up. Just heat, frantic and immediate.

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning. Like this is survival, and nothing else matters. His mouth crushes yours, open and messy, tongue sliding over your teeth, sucking your bottom lip between his like he’s trying to bruise it there—brand you. You gasp into him, and it only eggs him on. He groans low in his throat, grinding his hips against yours like he can’t fucking help it and shoves his tongue in your mouth, the same time you try to do it to him yourself.

Your fingers claw into his hair, yanking, anchoring him to your mouth like if you pull hard enough, you can fuse your mouths together. He answers with his own hands—rough, searching, greedy. Palming your hips, tugging the hem of your dress up halfway before abandoning the fabric altogether to shove a hand under it, scorching skin and all.

His fingers dig into your thighs like they want to draw blood and your back arches, hips digging into the mattress but he just won’t allow that. One big palm scoops under your ass and bucks you upwards. You clench as he furiously shoves the skirt of your dress out of the way and grinds into you with absolutely zero grace.

You don’t even want to look at how his sweatpants look after being in contact with what you know are your wet, ruined panties.

You can’t tell whose breath is whose, whose spit, whose moan. It’s a mess—wet, frantic, teeth bumping and lips bruising but clothes shift, slide and disappear, discarded onto the floor of your apartment in a pile, exposing skin you never meant to expose just yet but you don’t care. Couldn’t care less if anyone asks you.

And that’s about how you end up in your underwear. Katsuki’s tongue licks into your mouth like he’s trying to carve space for himself there and there’s no time to think of a next move anymore. There’s no name being called out— no words. You’re clawing at his shoulders, his jaw, his neck, like maybe if you hold him tight enough you’ll convince yourself that you’re not just dreaming of this right now.

He kisses you hard enough to make your lip sting, and when he pulls back just a fraction to breathe, his pupils are blown wide, eyes glazed over with something that borders on animalistic. His forehead drops to yours, but he doesn’t slow down—his hand cups your jaw, guiding your mouth back to his like he’s addicted to your sweet taste.

Your legs wrap around his waist without thinking, because you're so desperate for more. Core aching and your clit is fucking twitching like if he doesn’t touch it immediately you’ll drop dead. So you buck into him, into his furiously throbbing cock and he twitches, flinches into your mouth.

And then he bites. Not hard enough to break skin—but it’s not gentle either. He sinks his teeth into the curve of your jaw, then your shoulder, lips trailing open-mouthed, feverish kisses in between each graze of teeth. You cry out—more shock than pain—and he smirks against your neck, lips curling before he goes back in and sucks hard, dragging the edge of his teeth over your collarbone until your whole body shudders.

You bite him back. Shoulder. Neck. Jaw. Ears. Whatever you can reach.

Then, finally, you push him back, using all the hero strength that's still left in you that's just enough to climb over him, so that you can free him from the prison that his boxers are.

His dick springs free, bouncing on his abdomen with a loud thud, boxers still hanging over his thighs as you glide onto him once. Your panties are so wet that they might as well not exist. He can feel every bit of your folds onto his tip as you grind onto him again.

“F-fuck”

He groans, low in his throat, like the sound’s been buried in him for years. He grabs your chin as if you're some villain he wants to take completely off the map and kisses you again—deeper this time, tongue stroking against yours, hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips with just enough pressure to make your knees go soft. 

Katsuki’s hands slide over your breasts, squeezing impossibly hard, to the point it hurts so good that you have to cling onto him for leverage.

He makes a move to unclasp your bra, but he pulls down the straps first, too desperate even for that little part of skin that they hide and then he pops it open from your back. Like a maniac, he tosses it in a corner far, far away and manages to cup your breasts before they even manage to bounce. One hand slides down your back and you groan, for a second, before he latches onto your collarbone, your chest; biting, sucking, bleeding your skin. 

You have to grasp his head and pop your nipple into his mouth and he follows you ferally, one hand gnawing the plush skin of your ass through your panties, rushing you, bucking you onto him feverishly.

You kiss the top of his head once, twice, but he doesn’t seem to want to let go and so you force him, pushing him back with brute force until his back collides with the bed and you’re kissing all over his chest. All over the scar on his heart, the one on his stomach, over and over until there’s no place on his abdomen you haven’t put your mouth on, before you even dare reach for his cock.

Drool catches at the side of your lip at the sight of his dick, red and puffy at the tip, twitching in your fist as you hammer it twice in an up and down motion. 

Katsuki’s hands tangle in the bangs of your hair and his breathing catches—it pauses for a second and his heart skips a beat and dips when you take him into your mouth, giving him one hard and slow long suck till his tip smacks the back of your throat. 

“Love y’r cock” you slur, mouth still placing hot, smooching, kisses all over his tip.

He squirms when you pull back, eyes slant, with determination as you look at him, grind down on his leg and spit on his cock, shaking the base just enough for the glob of saliva to start dripping down his length. You aim for his balls next, sucking them into your mouth, licking them too, while you’re pumping him in a hammering motion, until your spit drips into the crooks of your fingers—so wet, that when you go to flip the slit of his tip with your thumb he slips right off your grip and his cock slaps over your face.

Katsuki watches you ferally, eyes blown out staring into yours, hips bucking in the air as his dick stays glued to your face, precum running in rivers, mixing with your spit. It’s impossible to hold still, or hold back from cumming just yet. You work him like you want him to cry for it. Hammering strokes beneath your lips, your tongue drawing lewd patterns around the base, then up—up—until you’re choking again, wet sounds echoing in the room like sin.

But you push forward, parting from his balls, you grab his cock again and smear the tip over your glossed out lips like it’s fucking lips gloss, before popping him into your mouth again. 

He screams. Screams, when your tongue runs over the veins of his dick, over his slit, even the crevices of and under his foreskin while occasionally giving him the meanest suck, just so he reaches the top of your throat. 

You hammer one hand in swirling motions right under your mouth and you don’t even know if you’re sucking, licking, you just know that he’s squirming and muttering prayers that no god wants to hear. Grabbing the covers, then your head; his legs are twitching, holding you in place like this is a fight, like you can’t just do all that and not expect him to grab you by the top of your hair and kiss you.

You don’t even breathe, you’ve forgotten how to by now, and even if you're kissing him there’s still a sticky string of precum that runs from his cock to your lips that he tastes and it does wonders to make him go absolutely feral.

He pulls you back, just so you can catch your breath as he runs his hands over your nipples and pulls, until he shoves you down again, smearing your face over his face, his abs, and pops his cock sleazily into your mouth until he’s bottoming out.

Your eyes tear up and you choke momentarily. Your roots hurt from how rough he’s gripping you. And you are sleazy too, when you grab his balls, fiddling your thumb to press on the spot right under them.

Just when you think you’re winning this battle, with the rhythm of his thrusts in your throat and your licking on the underside of his cock, he pulls you away and brings you to his lips again.

Everything on the skin of his abdomen is ruined by your spit and drool and it’s just so so hot at the sight that you moan about it.

When you kiss, Katsuki groans at his taste, at the loss of your mouth on him, and the air in the room makes his wet cock hurt from how hard it is.

You don’t even manage to realise when he has you sat on his chest, panties ripped and torn off completely, thrown carelessly across the room, but he’s trying to slide you towards his face. With the buck of his hips, his knees and then finally, his hands grab your hips and sprawls you right onto his collarbones.

Katsuki’s fingers itch across your thighs, thumbs massaging the plum skin as he glides them—both of them— over your folds. Opening you right up, to shove a finger inside you, twisting it as you hiss and pulling it out, sleeky gooey string attached and all, and into his mouth, moaning around his finger, slurping it, swirling it around his tongue.

Your pussy is drooling even more at the action, your clit twitching again as he moans at your taste. You don’t dare to move, just back your ass further up, until your whole pussy is spread open in his face. 

You’ve got no shame, not a single shameful bone in you as you try to shove his head onto you. And the worst part is, he’s not even pretending to be patient. With his big hands around your thighs, he pulls you forward until your pussy is hovering over his mouth, thighs trembling, folds spread and dripping onto his chin before he’s even touched you.

Your hands spread across him; on on his cock to pump it lazily—keep him hard for you, while the other tries to fight for leverage onto the bed.

For a moment, only one phrase escapes him. “Your pussy’s so fucking wet f’me baby”

And then, another “friends, my ass” right before he dives in you.

He sticks his tongue out, licking from your poor drooling hole to your clit then swirling around it, drawing soft eights with every little swirl.

You moan all the indecent ‘fucks’ in the whole world when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks—swirls his hot tongue around again now that he’s got you trapped like this.

You can’t move your body on command, just buck your hips into his mouth in desperation as his thumb comes to push the hood of your clit back, tapping it towards his tongue as he licks and licks away, alternating between kitten licks and soft tongue movements like you’ve taught him.

Katsuki flips the top of his tongue relentlessly on your clit and you’re pouring sinful wetness onto his lips, his face, down his neck. It’s like you’ve never been this wet in your entire life.

And his face, oh his face, sweet and hazy, eyes staring right into yours as he’s devouring your honey tasting pussy. His upper lip twitches, setting comfortably over the hood of your clit, over your puffy folds and you make a sound that’s similar to screeching, being drunk, sunk into how he can look so hellishly pretty while eating you out.

You tell him your piece of mind— only because there’s no fucking point in keeping it in “I love how y’r upper lip is bigger, fffuck”

Fuck, you want to be the one to get to fuck his face like this forever.

His tongue moves with the kind of precision that comes from obsession, from memorization. He knows your body, every twitch, every gasp. He maps it again and again with his mouth like he hasn’t eaten you out since that December night four years ago.

The way he moans into you sounds like he’s starving. The way his hands, his thick fingers dig into your thighs to keep you spread wide, trembling above him. It’s messy, it’s obscene, it’s exactly what’s why you are so drunk on him.

You rock your hips forward again, his nose pressing against your clit just right. His eyes flutter, lashes wet, lips swollen, and the sound he makes; needy, helpless is enough to send a fresh wave of slick rolling down his chin.

And just when you get frenzied about it he pulls back to breathe. 

You whine— you want his tongue on you until he chokes. Yet, you settle for two of his fingers running up the sides of your swollen folds, the tips giving you a soft rub.

His cheek softly grazes your thigh, his lips parted ever so slightly before diving back in ever so sweetly. He doesn’t suck this time. He just licks, short kitten flicks of his tongue across your clit and moans, face contorting into an almost painful expression when your thighs start trembling. Like he’s trying to tell you that he knows. Knows how good he’s making you feel.

But when he tries to tease your entrance with a finger again, you groan animalistically. All the pent up fuel in the depths of your tummy bursts and yet you have no control of it. You're only encouraged to ride it out, by Katsuki’s hands slapping and grabbing your ass, making you ride his face until you’re breathless, twitching and he’s making lewd slurping and moaning sounds at your taste.

Your whole body convulses in spasms, back bowed, voice raw as you scream his name.

He holds you through it, gentle now. Reverent. He kisses your thighs, your trembling hips, the skin just above your clit like he’s giving thanks.

It takes one look into his eyes for him to grab you, flip you, tousle you into the mattress. His lips find your own desperately, wet with your juices and you spend so agonisingly long kissing him, tasting yourself, grinding your chin to his.

It’s a mess. Sloppy and slow. Lips sliding, tongues tangling, your taste smeared between his jaw and yours. You moan into it, overwhelmed from the unbearable tenderness in the way he holds your face like he can’t believe you’re real.

You don’t even know where his hands go first. It’s all a blur—your hair, your neck, your chest, like he needs to touch every inch of you to remind himself you’re his. His body slots over yours, big and bruised and burning, hips cradled between your thighs like they were made for him.

And when his oozing tip lines up with your fluttering entrance, sliding twice across your slit to catch some more wetness, your hands run down his back, fingernails crawl into his skin.

But oh, oh when he bullies his fat tip into you and he hisses, when his jaw goes slack and you suck and bite down his chin, everything in both your bodies goes absolutely numb.

It’s such a blur what he does after he bottoms out completely. One moment he’s sinking his teeth into your chin too, hard enough to draw blood, he pants, his hips stutter into yours. Your palm goes to shove his face into the space where your shoulder meets your neck, away from your face because it fucking hurts to be bitten down like that. And yet it does nothing to calm him or you down. He just turns his head and bites your palm, your fingers.

It looks like a physical fight. Like those sick and twisted sex orientated hipster films that you can’t get through without cringing. You’ve never thought you’d have this type of sex in your entire life.

And fuck it, you can’t stay stil.

The position isn't going to work if you don’t stay still but you can’t– you can’t just do that and fuck—he ducks down, licks a strip across your whole chest before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and bites. How can you ever stay still after this?

His hand comes to wrap around your throat to keep you down, keep you in place so he can continue kissing you. His tongue fights inside every crevice of your mouth so hard that you could just choke on his own drool.

Katsuki picks up his pace and the sound of skin slapping on wet skin is so loud, louder than your screams as his tip kisses all the way to your cervix. And at the feeling he chokes—fucks into you even rougher than before.

Your voice has officially died in your throat amidst being violently thrusted in. You’re in the most delirious state as you cling onto Katsuki for dear life, legs securely trapping him against you, coaxing him to keep thrusting and never stop.

His cock feels delicious inside you; every thrust, every catch of his veins on your stupidly tight cunt as it flutters around him and sucks him feels like pure torture. You try to buck into him too, with a broken rhythm and a stutter of your own hips as your back arches and your hips lift off the bed.

It’s then that Katsuki decides that this body to body battle can be no more. He needs to win.

Rough calloused hands grip on your prone bone with the intention to fucking bruise, slamming you into the bed with brute force, then pressing your stomach down. Down, down, down and in, till his thumb catches your twitching clit and flicks.

He’s fast, rough; hands prying your legs open, grabbing you by the calves and pushing them over his head. Your knees almost touch your ears.

You don’t break eye contact, not even for a second, you don't whine, don’t beg, you just sit there and take it. The impossibly rough rhythm of his hips as his cock completely dives into your pussy.

And you throb, fucking hell you throb around him, so insanely tight for his cock, milking him of any precum that dares spill out of his slit. His chest bumps into yours, making him groan.

You feel so, so good around him that he gets careless with his thrusting, one second he's pistoning inside you and the next he’s slamming you down on the creaking bed so hard that you’re sure you are going to break it in two.

But oh holy fuck, this mating press has you delusional, delirious, your brain is fucked by your own lust and at this breaking point, your words slur out of you, like you can’t keep them inside anymore.

“I’ll quit my job for you” you scream, voice so broken “I’ll be a housewife, in the fucking kitchen Kats-Katsuki”

“The fuck ya-ah saying?”

“‘ll be in the kitchen, cleaning, anything, anything, i’ll quit my fucking job, ill quit it, i swear. fah- for- you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he grits out, voice wrecked, like he’s dragging the sentence through gravel. His hips stutter, grind deeper. “Sayin’ that shit when I got you like this—fuck—you don’t mean it.”

But you do.

You do, and that’s the worst part. Your voice is ugly with honesty, cracked and too loud, tears mixing with sweat and spit. “I’ll do anything. I don’t want anyone else looking at me—I don’t want you looking at anyone else—I’ll be yours, forever, Katsuki.”

His name breaks in your throat like a sob, and he snarls something unintelligible, grabbing your thigh so hard you swear it bruises. He slams back into you, like he can fuck the insanity out of you—or worse, like he’s trying to carve his name so deep into you that you never say anything like that to anyone else.

Not Izuku, not fucking Shindou from all those years ago, but him.

Him. Him. Him

“You’re not thinkin’ straight,” he spits, but his voice is ragged, strained—like maybe he’s the one who’s delirious, like his belly is even more white and hot with lust than yours. “You say that again—I’ll fuckin’ take you up on it. I swear to god. Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

But you’re gone. Your body’s shaking, your fingers clawing at his big, strong arms like you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself to him.

“I m-mean it. ‘Be in the k-kitchen cooking and shit–shit, just d-don’t leave me.”

“M fucking you out of your brain—shit”

You kiss him, whining your hips against him as he hammers inside you.

Katsuki growls into your mouth like you’ve just punched him in the ribs—like your kiss stole the last of his breath. He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t even hesitate.

He kisses you back like a man possessed.

Teeth and tongue and heat—like he’s trying to shove everything he’s never said down your throat, until your lungs burn with it. Like if he keeps kissing you, he won’t have to say anything at all.

But your words won’t stop echoing. ‘Just don’t leave me’

And something in him cracks.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your lips, over and over again. “Fuck—fuck, baby—fuck.”

His rhythm turns punishing, relentless, like he’s trying to prove something to both of you. Like he’s desperate to make you understand what he can’t put into words—how long he’s wanted this. Wanted you. Not just under him. Not just screaming his name.

But yours.

“Don’t say that if you don’t fuckin’ mean it,” he says again, but softer this time, like the words are slipping out from under a rib cracked open. “I’ll ruin you. You get that?”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks, open and honest and raw. “I love you. I’d—ah do anything for you”

Katsuki freezes. His hand slides up your body—calloused fingers around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, like he’s anchoring himself to your heartbeat. Like the feeling of your heartbeat catching through his chest is enough to ruin him.

A growl rips out of him—real, animalistic, guttural. His whole weight crashes into you, and you don’t know if you’re being worshiped or punished by the mean drilling of his cock inside you, but either way, you’re not walking tomorrow.

Maybe that’s exactly what you want. Maybe this is how you end up spent, bent in literal two chasing friction on your clit by bumping it into his pelvis until your legs go numb and the voice is fucking finally back in your throat.

“I love you too” he whines and that’s probably it. You could die so happy right now.

Your heart skips several beats. You cum so hard there’s an echo ringing in your ears.

And then, without a single voice of warning Katsuki cums too, deep inside you, yelping a broken yearning scream of your name and his lips find your mouth and catch your lips in a sloppy, lazy kiss as he paints your walls white with sticky cum. And you take it upon you to not have him pull out.

He ruts into you so slowly, riding down his and your orgasm into overstimulation but even more he doesn’t want to pull out yet—cock still throbbing and angry, eyes not even catching the cracks of sunlight that peak through the cracks of your windows.

You moan from the depths of your throat, pussy twitching around him, only ever making an effort to wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. But your faces are so wet with spit you slip against his face, catching his nose.

Without a care in the whole world, you kiss there and pull back slightly when he cups your chin, softly.

He shoots you a look of desperation. No smile, no teeth showing.

There’s sweat dripping down his hair onto his face and he’s flushed and red, like he got a rash. One hand keeps him steady on the bed as the other comes to wipe his face then your own.

His palm is huge, engulfing your whole face and shaking it left and right; you peak with the cracks of his fingers how he sucks his lips into his mouth and scrunches his nose in a fucked out pleasured expression. One finger slips in slow motion after another tracing your lips, taking a swirl inside your mouth.

The next shift in positions is insane. Slow and deliberate. You're still both trying to catch a breath as his right leg comes over your hips—one hand sliding under your back to press you impossibly closer, like he could slip into your skin if you’d just let him and your right leg crosses over his left one.

His hands work you onto him, marking new bruises over your hips.

And by now, his heart might as well not exist anymore. It’s beating so loud, so incredibly loud that he can’t even hear it in his ears anymore.

Your pussy clenches around him again—soaked, raw, dripping with both of you—and it makes him twitch, makes him groan from somewhere in his chest like the sound’s been buried there for years. Katsuki’s cock is still hard. Not as wild and frenzied as before, but still heavy, throbbing, stubborn.

Still deep inside you. Still not done.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, voice shot, like gravel soaked in whiskey. “You’re still squeezin’ me like that—what the fuck, baby…”

You can’t speak. You just whimper, a hot, wrecked sound from your throat as your hips hitch up against him, begging without words. It’s obscene, the squelch of him sliding just barely out and back in. Every inch still drags, still catches on that swollen, desperate spot inside you that screams for more.

“Don’t want you in the f-fucking kitchen” he slurs “want you in the fucking bed, like this”

His hand tightens on your hip, the other sliding between you again, like he can’t stand not having you come apart. Like one orgasm wasn’t enough. Like the words you both said—I love you—weren’t enough.

And maybe they weren’t. Maybe he needs to carve it into you with every thrust, every drag of his thumb over your clit, every bite of his teeth against your jaw that makes your skin and muscles fuzzy and numb.

“Gonna make you come again,” he growls, low and brutal, grinding into you now with short, controlled thrusts. Purposeful. Focused. His eyes are locked on yours, and he’s breathing hard through his nose like he’s holding himself back from going feral all over again. “Not stoppin’ till you’re fuckin’ ruined.”

You nod frantically, mouth parted, spit-slick and needy. “Please,” you gasp, pleading with him from the depths of your chest. “Katsuki, please, just—keep going, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. Acting purely out of command.

He fucks you slow, deliberate, deep enough that your legs tremble with every stroke. The kind of fucking that hurts because it means something. Because he’s not just chasing a high anymore.

With the way one of his hands comes to brush some hair away from your face, you know—He’s staking a claim.

Every time he presses in, your bodies meet in a mess of sweat and slick, skin slapping wet and rough, his name slipping out of your mouth in shattered moans. His fingers work your clit in tight, fast circles, and the pressure builds again like a scream that tries to claw under your skin.

You sob, arching into him like your body’s trying to climb him, even the underside of your ass claps on his skin in this interlinked position “I c-can’t—it’s too—Katsuki, I’m—”

“I know, baby,” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours. “S too much. Can’t fucking stop”

You come again, harder than the preview ones, body locking around him like a venus trap. Your pussy pulses around his cock, gushing, making a filthy, sticky mess between your thighs that he can feel and hear. His whole body jerks and then—

“Shit—fuck, fuck—you’re fucking mine,” he snarls, voice breaking, and then he’s coming again. For the second time. It’s almost too much—his cock twitching, spilling hot and thick rivers of sticky cum deep inside you again, his face buried in your neck as he growls out your name like it’s the only word he’s ever known.

You both stay there, locked together, shaking. Cum oozing from your entrance down your ass and to the bed.

You don’t even know how long it’s been. Minutes. Hours. Maybe days. Time doesn’t exist in this bed. In this room. In this reality. 

In this body, Katsuki is feeling his heart pulse and palp in shapes of your name that are unknown to man and he wants to fade into you.

In this body you’re ruined and claimed and filled over and over again and your head has turned into a juice that imitates the color of Katsuki’s eyes and tastes like the scar on his shoulder.

Katsuki’s cock is still inside you. Hard, twitching, moving just enough to make you so crazy that you come to your senses. His hips have slowed to these small, deep thrusts—so slow that it’s torture. Not enough friction but too much stretch. Every inch of you aches, your clit swollen and slick, your poor, glistening pussy so wet and fucked-through it makes the filthiest squelching sounds with every little roll of his hips.

But you can’t stop.

Neither of you can stop.

You’re not even kissing anymore—just breathing into each other’s mouths. Lips brushing, open and parted, exhaling into shared heat. His forehead rests against yours, heavy and damp, and his hand never left your thigh. It’s still holding you open, forcing you to take him deeper than deep.

You can feel everything. Every vein, every twitch, every beat of his heart in his cock as he pulses inside you like he belongs there.

“Still f-fuckin’ wet,” he mutters, voice hoarse and dazed like he’s been punched in the throat. “Still suckin’ me in. Baby, you’re—fuck—you’re–”

You’re ruined. Fucked open. Body raw and strung out and still begging for more. You can feel his cum leaking out around his cock, sticky and hot, smeared across your thighs and drying on your sheets. It’s everywhere. He’s everywhere.

You sob his name, voice soft and fucked-out, and it makes him moan—deep and wrecked.

He kisses you, finally. Sloppy and wet. Tongue barely moving, just licking into your mouth like he’s tasting how far gone you are. He’s addicted to it.

“Gonna come again,” you whisper, almost shocked. “Katsuki, I—fuck—I c-can’t—”

“You can,” he breathes against your lips. “You’re g-gonna.” he struggles “Just keep takin’ it, baby. Just—fuck—keep lettin’ me feel you.”

You bite your lip even though you’re trembling. Every nerve ending is fried. You are so fucking cock drunk. Your body is all sensation and no thought. He was right. He literally fucked your brain out of you.

He presses his palm to your lower stomach, right where his cock is, and you wail—a helpless, broken sound as your pussy clamps around him so tight he almost chokes on a moan.

“That’s it,” he groans, like he’s in pain. “Feel me right here? I’m in so fuckin’ deep, baby. Gonna make you cum just from this. Don’t even need to touch you.”

You don’t. You really, really don’t.

Your body is curling in on itself, trembling as heat coils deep inside you again, sharp and unbearable. Your legs kick, your hands scrabble weakly at his back. You’re so close it feels like dying.

“Katsuki,” you sob. “Katsuki, I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Cum?” he whispers, and it’s not a command. It’s a plea. A desperate beg. “Please…. Cum for me, baby. Do it. I need it—need to feel you lose it on my cock again. Pleasepleaseplease.”

That breaks you like a stick. You fall apart around him with a scream muffled against his throat, your cunt spasming so hard it forces a choked cry out of him. His name—your name—it all blurs together in the wet heat between you as you tremble and clench and throb.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t dare stop, not even for a second.

He keeps fucking you through it, fucking you into it, and your body jerks with every aftershock as you sob and shake and whimper his name like a prayer.

And then—like his body was just waiting for yours, he groans. Deep, guttural whining, teeth bared as his hips slam into you one last time before he spills.

He cums so hard his eyes go blind for a moment and his head is dizzy. His whole body locks, muscles taut as a bowstring, and he makes this noise—half growl, half gasp, some more of a cracked whine—as he paints your walls milky white again, cock pulsing deep inside your soaking cunt.

You can feel every spurt. Every thick, hot rope. It’s too much. It’s perfect. You are so perfectly full.

He slumps over you, shuddering, burying his face in your neck as he moans through the overstimulation. And still, he doesn’t pull out.

Katsuki just stays there. Wrapped around you. Still twitching. Still inside. Still trying to catch his breath against the sweat-slick skin of your throat.

You’re both wrecked. Sticky and sore and trembling. But neither of you speak. Not yet. Not while your bodies are still knotted together, still connected, still pulsing with afterglow.

His hand finds yours, fingers lacing. He brings them to his mouth and kisses them, slow and reverent. Katsuki exhales something soft against your collarbone—maybe your name, maybe just a broken breath—and his body finally gives out.

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t clean up. Doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

He just presses his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight, lashes tickling your skin, chest rising and falling against your tits as he holds your hips and fucks you through it—one slow, filthy stroke at a time. The wet sounds between your bodies are soft, slick and eternally endless.

You’re crying again. Maybe? You even don’t know when you first cried. But he kisses every salty tear away like it’s holy. And even as your thighs start to shake and your breath starts to hitch and the wave builds again, neither of you speak.

The two of you are fucking against each other in an almost commatose state, drool spilling from your mouth and into the bed, eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back slack and arched. Katsuki doesn’t even have enough strength to hold you anymore. He just fucks his dick inside you in slow ruts even if his tip is twitching in anger by his sleepiness.

Drool is starting to drop to the corner of his mouth too, his eyes are beginning to lose color, his eyelids are so heavy with sleep, tiredness. Fuck its too much.

Katsuki collapses on top of you, heavy and warm and still buried so deep inside you it feels like he might stay there forever. And you’ll just let him.

Your arms circle his shoulders, fingertips barely twitching with the last flickers of energy left in your limbs. Your legs are still hooked over his hips, limp and useless. You’re leaking his cum, sore everywhere, and there’s a wet sound when he shifts slightly—but it doesn’t matter.

He’s still here. He’s still inside. Still yours. And you, still his. Neither of you say it, but the silence is a language all on its own.

Your eyes fall closed. His breathing slows against your throat. And mingled together, like animals too worn out to do anything but cling to warmth— you both pass out.

There’s no real moment where you wake up.

You just drift—lifted from one depth to another, from heat to haze. The sky outside the window glows a soft slate blue, bleeding into pale grey, barely beginning to kiss the edges of the room, but it’s violent against your eyes. Your tiny apartment—It’s still, warm with yours and Katsuki’s shared body heat, and quiet.

Katsuki’s chest rises and falls against yours, a soft rhythm. His hand’s still on your hip, where it must’ve landed in the mess of sleep. Your legs are tangled. Your sheets are crumpled and damp and clinging. The air smells like sex, sweat, and skin.

You shift just slightly, groaning low under your breath, thighs slick, sticky and sore. You feel Katsuki immediately. Still half-hard where he rests inside you, not fully softened even in sleep, kept in place by the swollen aftermath of everything you gave each other a while ago.

You can’t help it. You tighten. It’s that kind of soft little squeeze. A twitch. Reflexive and curious. Not quite conscious. And it earns you a sleepy sound from him that makes you go still.

A low, throaty grunt from the depths of his chest.

He stirs. His hand tightens around your hip. And then, slowly, he rolls into you. A lazy, wet grind that drags his cock deeper and makes your eyes flutter shut, heavy with sleep still.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice so wrecked it’s hardly a word. His breath fans against your cheek. How the fuck did he even wake up by just you clenching around him? “You’re still fuckin’ warm.”

You can’t answer. You can barely think. All you can do is exhale his name like a secret. He honestly doesn’t even need more.

Because then he starts moving—no urgency, no rhythm. Just slow, shallow thrusts once in a while. Rolling his hips with a low growl every time your body flutters around him. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Not with heat this time. With that shallow laziness of sleep or lack thereof.

Katsuki is so sleepy, his face is pouty with tiredness, making that silly expression where jaw nunches and his lower lip pokes out. His eyes are so heavy, everything weighs down on him.

The late night villain, the fight with his mother, the drive to Tokyo in half the time of what he should have done it. The way he just can't stop acting with his dick.

His knees hurt so bad by his lack of sleep and his eyes are so so heavy, maybe he could sleep for a second right now, juuuust rest his eyes.

Through your sleepy eyes and lips, you moan softly into his mouth, your body opening to him all over again. He licks into you, tongue warm and slow. One of his hands slides down to your thigh, hooking it up and over his waist, and then he’s rutting into you just a little harder. Still sleepy. Still extremely slow. But so deep you feel him in your ribs.

Your fingers curl into his hair. Nails scratching through his scalp soothingly and a little snore comes out his softly parted lips. You feel so soft, so cuddly, so, so, so nice.

So warm, so–

His head falls slack to the crook of your neck again. You hold him close. Let the ache build again, dulled by sleep and softened by something much more gentler now.

“I love you,” he slurs against your neck, trying to suck in some of the drool that slides from his lips. Like it’s a confession made to the dark, to your skin, to your pulse. “Shit, baby—I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“Love yah too” you snort, nuzzling into his hair, cheek pressed to his wet tufts of blond hair.

And when you come again, wrung out and trembling only slightly, he follows seconds later, shooting blanks inside of you. Buried deep. Held tight. Eyes shut. Falling in and out of sleep. Chest pressed to yours like he’d die if he let you go.

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally

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pssssst, there will be a bonus small part 4, let me know if you want to be tagged but please make sure your age is stated in your bio or pinned post! thnak you so much for reading!

Let me know your thoughts on this- you can even ask in universe questions for clarification!

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[brivetaroundtown]

Seeking Whom He May Devour (1)

dragon hybrid!Bakugou x fem!reader

warnings: there's some suggestive talk lol bt it's tame for now.

WC: 3.8K

a/n: So here's something I've been working on for YEARS lol. Don't get too excited idk if I will even be able to like keep going with this. i would like to but for now I'm actually kinda proud i was finally able to complete this bit.

Something is watching you. 

There’s natural order in the animal kingdom, the food chain. The hunt calls to all, predator and prey alike. You know this, you’re more than aware of it. Nine years spent studying animal behavior, the logistics of the hunt are more than a lesson to you, it is your livelihood. 

Now more so than ever. 

You are being hunted. 

Your blood is cold in your veins, your heart races and each wavering breath is an insult to Death. Which breath will be my last? you wonder. You’ve watched a spider stalk its prey, a tiny little beetle living blissfully unaware of the danger. But you know how its story will end. 

How you wish you could be as naïve as the beetle, because knowing you will die is much worse. 

The predator stretches its limbs prepared to strike whom it has been seeking.

Your consciousness hangs in the vast darkness. It isn’t the dark that’s the worst part. It's loneliness. The bitter loneliness. Knowing that no matter how much you raise your voice to call out to someone, they will not hear. 

Because no one is here with you. 

You are dead. 

At least, that’s your first thought. 

Something is picking at your fingers, pinching and pulling at the skin. You open your eyes and it hurts as you stare up into what you recognize as the clear night sky. The salt water has dried your eyes and it hurts to blink, but you flutter your lashes desperately to moisten your eyes and get a look of your surroundings. 

Everything sounds muffled around you and within the first breath you take, you’re coughing and pushing water from your lungs. Your throat burns, like millions of tiny cuts line the delicate skin of your esophagus. Each burning breath you inhale feels worse than the next, yet you become more alive as you try to even your breathing. 

It takes a few minutes for your eyes to adjust and take in your surroundings but when you do, a ripple of fear washes through you. 

You’re alone, sitting washed ashore on an otherwise empty beach. On one side of you the vast blue ocean with crashing waves and not a boat in sight and on the other, a thick curtain of trees and shrubs similar to plants you’d find in a jungle temperate zone. 

The pinching on your fingers and skin you find are from birds who were happy to find a feast in your seemingly dead carcass. One lands next to your feet, hops over to examine you and pecks at your toes. You screech and pull away from it. 

“I AM NOT DEAD!” You squeal and it sounds more like a thankful declaration. 

You’re not dead, though you think you probably should be. You wrack your brain for any memories you had before waking up here but there are none. Just darkness. Something shifts loudly in the dense wall of jungle behind you.

The huge lush green leaves move menacingly as whatever it is that’s stomping through the forest gets closer and closer to the beach. 

Something is watching you. 

A crack of a branch in the distance confirms that fact and you whip around in the darkness, wet hair slapping your cheeks. It's too dark, the canopy of trees overhead lends no moonlight for you to see two inches in front of your face. 

Maybe going into the jungle to hide wasn’t the best idea. 

You try to calm your breathing or at least quiet it so you can hear if something is approaching. There’s rushing water nearby, a waterfall perhaps? 

Insects are buzzing around your ear, licking at the sweat drenching your neck and dripping down your tank top. Your eyes swivel back and forth desperately, your grip tightens on the handle of the tree branch you’ve taken up as a weapon.

Another crack of a tree limb rips through the tense air, closer now, but behind you. Whatever it is, it’s circling you. Predators only circle what they’re about to attack and consume, after they’ve run down its stamina. 

You tremble on exhausted legs, your breathing increases as adrenaline and fear sends blood rushing to all of your limbs. You’re stuck in place though, not able to run like you want or scream like you want. Whatever it is that’s coming for you, will have you. 

Heavy footfall is behind you, it's close, so close the hairs on the back of your neck stand with the static of its perilous grip. Judging from the sound, it’s bipedal and a low growl from above your head tells you it’s big, towering over your tiny frame. Something drags on the ground—a tail perhaps— it sounds heavy as it scrapes through the dirt and rocks on the jungle floor. 

You don’t dare turn around, afraid to look upon the beast that has captured you in its clutches, certain to swallow you whole.The smell hits you first as it continues to creep up behind you, a warm breath bathes you and it smells of death and fresh meat.

 A tingle slips up your spine as it breathes heavy air on you, wisps of your hair blowing and sticking to your perspiring lips. It sniffs you and you clench your eyes shut, standing stiller than a statue. 

Your mind filters through what to do should you be approached by a wild animal. Your chances for all of the options have passed. The creature is here now and it wants you. The only thing you can think of is to intimidate it, or show no fear. 

You feel it sniff you again and hear it shift away, certainly perplexed by your foreign scent. You take the opportunity to gather your courage, take a deep breath and spin around to look into the eyes of your stalker. 

What you see makes no sense. It’s a man. Or maybe not a man. It can’t be. It’s covered in scales down its arms and legs. It’s tall, almost 9 or 10 ft, with unruly ash blonde hair, or is it fur? Sharp fangs hang down from the menacing snarl of its lips, and it has what looks like hands, an appendage you’d call a thumb if the anatomy of this creature were human, and clawed feet that resemble a beast you’ve only ever heard about in fairytales. You look into the beast’s eyes, they’re glowing a bloody red, pupils thin slits as his brow—yeah it has expressive furry  brows the same color as its hair—furrow in confusion. 

When you realize that you’re only able to see its features in the dark because it’s glowing a warm bioluminescent orange glow from spots along its back, your fear melts and fascination takes over. You continue to stare into its eyes and you glower to hold the intimidation and pray that it backs off. You watch its pupils slowly morph into full black circles as you continue to stare. And then what it does next, blows your mind and you’re sure, you must’ve actually died back on the beach. 

It speaks. In a language you cannot understand. 

You run. 

Trees and branches slap and slice away at your face and thighs as you stumble through the dark forest. Adrenaline drives your muscles harder, blood pumping through your limbs as every neuron in your brain screams at you to flee. The voice is above your head, keeping pace with you as you sprint but you don’t dare stop. 

Still its voice rumbles in your head, raspy, growly, dangerous. Whips of the leathery branches cut deep into your skin but you cannot feel the pain. The adrenaline masks it, pushing your body to the brink of exhaustion, yet never stopping. 

The creature is in pursuit behind you, or is it still above you? Is it flying? You saw the wings, you’re sure of it. How can it see you beneath the thick canopy of trees? Can it see you in the darkness? 

Your foot sinks into a deep pool of water and thick mud, a marsh of some kind slowly sucking in your feet and pulling you to its depths. You wriggle frantically, hearing the rushing wind of the flapping wings stagger above your head. 

Tears flow down your cheeks now as you desperately try to pull yourself free. You’re going to die here in this jungle. You’re going to die and no one will ever remember you. 

No one speaks about the fear, perhaps because those that have felt it have never been able to recall it. How foolish you were to believe you were the apex predator. There is always something bigger, always something stronger and faster and hungrier. 

You are being hunted. Your blood is cold in your veins, your heart races and each wavering breath is an insult to Death. Which breath will be your last? You wonder. You’ve watched a spider stalk its prey, a tiny little beetle living blissfully unaware of the danger it’s in. in a controlled environment, you know how its story will end. 

How you wish to be as naïve as the beetle, because knowing you will die is ten times worse. 

The creature above you swoops down closer. You hear it land behind you as your body sinks into the wet thick mud. You don’t turn around, too afraid to face your certain doom. 

Branches snap underneath its weight as it slowly gets closer. You hear the low growl in its chest as it bends down to sniff the top of your head. The predator stretches its limbs, prepared to strike whom it has been seeking.

And for the first time since washing up on this strange island, you scream, so sharply your head goes numb. Your body tires from the running and fighting and you give in to darkness, your last breath shuddering in the night.

When you wake, you’re cold. The ground below you is cold and wet and sticky. Your cheek presses against the cold stone and little pebbles are sticking to your cheek as you stir into consciousness. It’s dark, still way too dark for you to see where you are. Your head is pounding, your limbs are sore and you don’t think you can stand without stumbling. 

You feel around the dark space, your fingers brush over rocks and pebbles, a few branches with leaves, and something long and hard, maybe a club of some kind? Your fingers close around the knobbed end of it and you pull it toward you. You’re not sure what it is but one thing’s for sure, you can use this as a weapon. 

You lift your face off of the cold slippery rocks, the shuffling from your body echoes and you conclude you must be in some sort of cave. The air you fill your lungs with is musty and humid. It smells like the wet stifling air of the jungle but another scent lingers.

It’s strange, your mind can’t pinpoint the exact scent but you know you’ve smelled it before. Whatever the scent is, it sends a shiver up your spine and every thing in your brain screams at you. 

This scent means “danger.” 

You tighten your grip on the club as you slowly make your way into a sitting position. You squint into the darkness, trying to let your eyes adjust before you attempt to find a way out. There’s a constant rushing, like water falling from somewhere and an even breeze that sounds a little like someone or something is breathing. 

Slowly you get to your feet, and hold the club with both hands. The handle feels sticky, and as you pull your hand away from it, your hand is covered in a sticky sap like substance. You quickly slip your shoes off and plant your bare feet on the cool stone beneath you.

 A cave must have an exit. You rise, keeping the club raised above your head to strike anything that would get in your way. You take a step forward and your foot kicks a thin hollow log; the sound of it echoes through the cave. 

Holding your breath, you wait for anything to come out of the darkness. When nothing comes, you take another wary step forward. With one hand out in front of you to feel around, you slowly make your way to what you assume is deeper into the cave. 

There’s nothing in front of you, you try to keep your breathing low and quiet but the unknown and what might be waiting for you in the darkness makes your heart speed up. 

You touch something smooth but hard. Could it be the smooth stone of the cave wall? Is it a dead end? Should you turn around and go another way? 

All of your questions come to a halt when you feel your hand rise and fall dramatically, almost as if the cave wall is breathing. The cave is suddenly lit with a warm golden glow coming from the creature standing in front of you. 

It’s sitting, blocking the path and what looks like the mouth of the cave further down the path behind it. Huge bat-like wings stretch out to make itself bigger and you instantly stumble back and fall as you gaze up at the thing in fright. 

The breath leaves your lungs when you peer down at what you thought was a club or stick. Instead, held tight in your grasp is what looks like a bone, a human bone, stripped of skin and meat and tissue. Your hands are covered in sticky dark red blood and as you toss the bone away from you, you ready yourself for whatever this creature may do to you. 

It growls and huffs out a breath as it surveys you, tilting its head and speaking–or what you assume must be speaking– in some weird language you don’t recognize. It sounds angry, or at the very least annoyed. Its voice is harsh and deep and growly. It gestures to you as it speaks and you stare up in confusion before you finally shake yourself out of your stupor.

Is it trying to communicate with you? Why? Why would it be speaking to you if it’s meant to eat you. Predators don't chat up their dinner before it eats it. You tilt your head and lock eyes with the thing. Slowly, you shake your head and enunciate precisely.

“I don’t know what you’re saying to me. I…I can’t understand you.” 

The creature huffs again and rolls its eyes. It throws its arms up as if saying you’re hopeless and for some reason all the fear you carried flips into rage. Is this thing fucking judging you? As if you’re supposed to know what this weird unknown creature is seemingly yelling at you?  

“Oh sorry if I’m wasting your time not knowing some made up language!” you yell back at it. Sarcasm. You’re stranded on an island with some unknown creature trying to communicate with you and is surely going to try to eat you at some point, and you’ve just decided to be sarcastic with it. Beautiful.

You stand and put your hands on your hips, glaring at the creature. It’s best to make yourself seem big too, like you won’t back down. It hasn’t moved to harm you yet, which means it probably doesn’t see you as a threat. But maybe you can trick it into thinking you are the apex predator here. 

It turns back toward you and flashes you a stunned look. It looks almost offended, raising its eyebrows in awe while snarling and showing its fangs and gums. 

Good. Be stunned you big lizard man…thing, you think to yourself. 

Wait. It looks…stunned? 

This thing is showing emotion which means it's not like any other animal you’ve come across. As it moves closer to you, narrowing its eyes and sniffing you again you remain perfectly still. It reaches a clawed hand out and grabs your throat so tightly, no air can pass through your windpipe and you’re struggling under its tight grip. It lifts you off the ground, bringing you closer to its face. Your feet dangle as it holds you up.  

You gasp and try to inhale but the relief of breathing never comes. It’s choking you. This thing is choking you and you are going to die. Your eyebrows pull together, your eyes water and you desperately claw at its hand around your throat. 

You wheeze and whimper, veins popping out of your forehead and eyes bulging as you blink in and out of consciousness. Is this how it will kill you? Choking you before it tears you apart? 

One single tear rolls down your cheek and with the last of your strength you stare the thing in the eyes. Its eyes seem the most human thing about it. They glow a deep red in the darkness, curiosity swimming in the irises like fish circling a pond. 

As you peer into them you feel as if you’re penetrating its mind. There’s some sort of faint connection between you and the monster as you stare. Your eyes plead with it to let you go and somehow you think it understands. 

“...please…” you wheeze.

Suddenly it releases its grip and you fall to the floor coughing. It stares at you for a long time as you try to regain your breath. Then it grabs your face again, and brings your lips to meet its lips. The kiss—if that’s what this is supposed to be— is searing, almost painful, yet sensual and erotic. 

As its tongue plunges into your mouth, you’re only aware of how hot and good it feels. It makes warmth and arousal flow through your body, sends tingles to the tips of your toes and hardens your nipples. As its long tongue flicks wildly around your mouth, it feels as if it’s searching for something. 

Your mind is clouded and then a sharp pain rips through your head. It feels as if something is being wedged into your mind. When the pain feels like it’ll be too great the monster pulls back from you. 

When it backs away, its mouth seems to be smoking and you wipe away its spit and taste on your tongue. You sputter, trying to catch your breath as you cower and scoot away from him. You wrap your arms around yourself but you glare at him with a deadly expression.

“Don’t you fucking touch me again,” you spit between coughs and wipes of your mouth. You ignore the way the tingling in your limbs settles into your stomach. Heat pools between your legs and you wonder if it’s a side effect of what this thing just did to you. It bends down to sniff you again, snorting and frowning at your scent.

When it’s done, it leans back to take in your stance and then, it grins a shit eating grin, sharp fangs and gums exposed from under it’s lip like it’s impressed with your threatening remark. 

“Well well. You’re a tough lil thing arentcha?” 

You don’t say anything. In fact, you’re completely in shock. It’s speaking and you can understand it now. How is that even possible? Could it have been because you were too afraid to realize he’d been speaking in English? No, you’ve put too much effort into trying to stay focused on your survival since being shoved into this fucked up situation.

Its pupils dilate again as they focus on you. It licks its lips in the darkness, smacking loudly as it growls and steps closer. Something shifts in the area where its genitals would be if there were anything there… 

Except now…now there is something there. Your eyes widen as the hint of something peaks out behind a long slit that you just noticed. It otherwise looks flat and smooth in the area where its reproductive organs would be if it were human. 

But now the area is glistening, a bioluminescent viscous liquid leaks from the flaps of skin protecting something thick and twitching. You stare at it, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing and when it clicks you meet its scarlet gaze again. 

No. Not it. His. 

You can hardly believe the look on his face. He looks…well to put it frankly his expression reminds you of those fuckboy frat guys you used to try your hardest to avoid back when you were an undergrad. Those idiots who brag about how big their dicks are and parade around campus thinking they should be praised for it. 

The monster’s expression screams “Like what ya see?” and it pisses you off. Who the hell does this guy—if you can call him that— think he is? You avert your eyes quickly, trying to keep them on anything but his groin. 

“S’alright. I like when they’re tough. Makes it less boring,” his voice echoes in the cave and it feels as if the ground below you is rumbling from his voice alone. 

You take a deep breath. Logic. That’s what you need right now. Quick thinking and logic, that will get you out of this. This thing, whatever he is, is poised like he wants to eat you. However if that were true, he would’ve eaten you while you were asleep, the bones scattered around tell you that much. 

But there’s still the question of how you got here. If there’s no one else here that can only mean he brought you here. 

But why?

“Y…you could speak English that entire time?” you stamer out. Communicating with him seems like your best bet. If he hasn’t eaten you and he brought you to this cave, perhaps he wants something from you, something  other than for you to be his meal. If you can give it to him, maybe he’ll let you go? 

“I’m speakin’ whatever you just shared with me little lamb,” he asserts, reaching a hand out to grab your face again. He turns your head roughly, inspecting the cuts and bruises. Licking his lips again as if he’s a hungry dog waiting to be given permission to partake in his treat. 

What does he mean, shared with him? You raise an eyebrow as he squeezes your cheeks. Is…is that what he was doing when he kissed you? It makes no sense. He couldn’t have learned an entirely new language just from kissing you. 

Then again, he is a half man half lizard creature standing before you. There’s nothing logical about this situation in the slightest. 

Perhaps it’s time to throw logic out the window.

Thanks for reading!

[brivetaroundtown]

[brivetaroundtown]

Togame Jo has always been in the back of your mind and maybe that's why you accidentally text him instead of your best friend, otherwise why else would he show up to your house so late in the evening? inspired by @kingkatsuki adding onto a general "diary entry" to my blog .

A good finger fucking until I cry would fix me

A random thought you text to your friend before you toss your phone on your nightstand, groaning into your pillow with disgust over how horny you were over nothing at all.

It was just ovulation week of course, leaving you weepy and wet at your lashes and between your thighs. Dolphin shorts riding up as you reach for a shirt on the ground that you've stolen from your crush. The last time you'd seen him you'd gotten caught in the rain coincidentally near his apartment and so he invited you in until the storm passed, your clothes dried and neatly folded placed into a bag as he walked you to the train stop while you wore his shirt and sweats. You promised you'd return it nice and clean.

You both knew that was a lie.

Dressing quickly so you could finish cleaning up your apartment before dinner, take out on its way in about a half an hour and you needed to find your cash stash to tip the poor man when he got here.

Washing dishes, taking out trash, sweeping and even picking up your living room that was neglected through the week all before the doorbell rings.

Smiling as you go to open the door, ten in your hand, as you hum happily thinking about your favorite oversized meal. Except when you swing the door open the delivery man isn't there.

It's Togame, your crush.

He stands tall even as he hunches a little. Plastic bag of your delivery on the wrist of the hand in his pocket while the other idly scrolls his phone. Yours pings, the delivery driver sending a picture of the hand off, to Togame, and kind message thanking you for the large tip.

He looks up at you, just over the rim of his circular glasses that sit on the edge of his nose.

"Ya always answer the door like that, sweetheart?" He asks locking his phone as he looks you up and down, deep emerald gaze noticing his old band shirt that swallows your body. He isn't sure you're wearing anything underneath, he smiles and runs his hand through his hair to his undercut before he's pushing his way past you. Entering your apartment as if it were second nature and not his first time here.

Stopping in the genkan to shove off his geta that match his dark cotton samue paired with his flashy Shishitoren letterman jacket. Walking to the living room to set down the takeout on the kotatsu before the rummages through your cabinets for plates.

"Togame?"

"Yea?"

"What are you doing here?" With how comfortable he makes himself in your home, you almost forgot you barely know him and that you're dressed in a shirt you never returned, pulling down the hem a bit more since your shorts hardly cover your ass.

"M here to 'fix ya.'" He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're lingering by your entry way, "Like ya asked."

"Like I asked?" A cold sweat breaks out over your skin, prickling at the nape of your neck.

"Yea, wouldn't want you texting anyone else your problems sweetheart. Least not ones like that." He sets the two plates and two sets of utensils down on the counter while he opens the fridge. Delighted to find a beer bottle that he opens with his teeth, before bringing one of the glass bottles to his lips for a sip. Grabbing for the plates and returning to the living room to settle in. Tossing his glasses and jacket onto your bed that lies a few feet from the kotatsu looking over his shoulder while he makes your plate.

"Ya coming?"

"Togame...I-" You let out a shaky breath, there's no way you texted the wrong person. You texted your friend your born again virgin woes, right?

Right??!!!

"Shy now?" He chuckles, pulling out his phone, holding it up so you can see the message that he received and sure enough it reads, a good finger fucking would fix me.

"THAT-" You bap at his phone knocking it from his hands as if that could make him unsee it, make him forget all about your lewd request, "That was NOT meant for you."

"Oh?" His jade eyes are cat like, narrowing for a moment in an emotion you can't place, "Who was it meant for? Surely not someone from Bofurin."

He takes another swig from his bottle, long fingers around the neck that he tightens over the thought. He knew no one from Bofurin could please you the way Togame knew he could, especially not that one with headphones and suckers.

Togame would much rather you be sweet on Sako, least then he was a Shishitoren.

"It was meant for a friend! It was like- like a joke between girls." Your confession shouldn't make his cock twitch in his pants, he palms at it and doesn't bother to be subtle.

"Girls always talk so lewdly to each other?" Silence stretches on between you two before he cracks a devilish smile, patting at the spot next to him, "Come on, gotta get some food in ya."

With your heart beating on your ribcage you slowly sink down next to Togame, who puts on a movie the two of you would enjoy while you eat your meal. Splitting with him what was supposed to be your dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow.

It's comfortable, the silence and occasional comments on the flick takes some odd plot twist and for a moment you forget why exactly he showed up at your door.

Right up until the credits, where you try to rise with a "welp" as if to show him away.

But Togame wasn't going anywhere, crowding your space with little effort and it's only now you realize you practically sat on top of him. He didn't let you get up and there's no way you can escape now as his mouth hovers so closely to yours.

"Now," he purrs, hand moving to cup your mouth, long fingers digging into the fabric to touch your already wet hole, "lemme help you with your problem."

Roughly pressing his fingers into your cunt and swiping up to your clit in slow strokes and it makes you gasp. Fisting the navy blue fabric of his samue when he presses his mouth to yours. Kissing you with a mixture of rough and soft that leaves you a little dizzy. Domineering in a way you'd forgotten you liked, gasping against his mouth giving him entrance for his tongue to slip in. Slow swipes as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss even more all while he keeps that slow rough drag of his finger tips. Until he hears the squelch of your cunt and feels your arousal soaking through your shorts only then does he pull away as you whine.

Hooking his fingers into the waist band of your shorts and yanking them down and off of your ankles, pushing you to lean back against your bed frame as he crowds further. Palm on your pretty mound as his fingers repeat the same action, catching on your entrance that starts to flutter with each circle of your clit back down to your perineum. He watches your face, watches your hips twitch as you arch your back for him, your hands fisting the hem of the fabric at your waist.

Togame brings his free hand to shove his shirt over the mounds of your breasts, exposing your already hard nipples to the cool air of your apartment. Leaning over to lick a broad stripe making you clench around nothing as a shiver runs down your spine. He does it a few more times before he's pulling your nipple into his mouth. Shoving his two thick fingers into your tight cunt with enough force it makes your tits bounce and you moan loudly.

Swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before flicking it in time with his thumb that now circles your clit. Adjusting his hands so that his fingers can touch that sweet spot and his thumb can rock against your clit with each thrust of his hand.

In just a few short strokes you're starting to see stars.

"Oh fuck oh fuck. Togame, fuck ahh." You sound better than what he's imagined when he fisted his cock to the thought of you. Your name on his tongue makes his cock ache painfully in his boxer briefs, begging to be touched but that could wait.

Biting at the soft tops of your tits, leaving hickies that you'll be finding for weeks as your head jerks back. Coil in your stomach so tight you think you might snap in half.

"Togame, don't stop, fuck, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum!" You sound whiny like you always do and Togame loves the sound. Lives for it and it's why he's always teasing you when you stop by Shishitoren to give the gang a lecture about not trashing the bar you work out.

It always fell on deaf ears that is until Togame made his men listen but he didn't want to think about all that right now.

He just wanted to burn the way you look creaming his fingers into his memory. Moving off your nipple with a lewd pop and silvery string that connects the two of you that he breaks with a swirl of his tongue. Looking down to see how you soak the floor and his fingers making him press into you a little harder.

"Then cum sweetheart. It's why I'm here remember?" With that you reach ecstasy, bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers with a loud moan of his name and tears collecting in your eyes, holding his gaze and if Togame wasn't in love with you before he sure as hell was now.

Watching you pant as he slows his pace just enough for you to catch your breath but let you ride out your high, loving how your cunt flutters around his fingers, trying to pull his digits back in that he steadily rocks into you.

Your manicured hands reach for his waist band, eyes trained on the outline of his long, fat cock.

"Please, 'gami." You whine, pulling at the fabric as his free hand gently pushes yours away. Green eyes tracking over pretty skin he's littered with bruises, kind replaying the way you cried out his name as he feels drool collect at the back of his throat. Pulling his fingers out until just the tips were hidden within your velveteen walls before he pushes the saliva to the tip of his tongue. Pulling his lips away from his teeth to push the spit from the wet muscle right onto your clit, not that you needed the extra lube. Messily rubbing it against the sensitive bud making you cum again with a cry and a biting grip on his forearm.

"No, no sweetheart. This is about you right now." He hums, eyes dark and trained on your face before he sets another relentless pace. Until you're slumping over and jerking back. Crying out his name over and over as fat tears fall past those pretty lashes Togame loves seeing you bat up at him when you want your way.

So into what he's doing to you he doesn't realize his boxers have become sticky until he shifts closer to you. Clinging to his skin too much for it to be only pre, turned on even more that you made him cum his fuckin pants from just your sights and sounds. Even your smell, sweet and sticking in the back of his throat making him insatiable.

"Fuck, lissen to how your cunt soundsssss." He growls, making emphases by pushing you beyond your limit so he can hear the clicking slick and cry of your cunt sucking his fingers back in when he pulls them out.

He doesn't stop until his fingers are pruned and cramping in your cunt that has been spasming non stop for the past five minutes, your throat sounds dry from your moaning and selfishly he thinks he could spit onto your tongue to help you alleviate your pain.

Looking up to see your debauched face, brows furrowed, lip pouting and tears of beyond overstimulation that makes him ease you down into slow ruts til his fingers are just in you. Half smothering you as he crowds your space, slowly pulling out his fingers and lightly tapping your clit as he leaves your glistening folds making you yelp.

Lips at your throat, leaving soft nips and nosing at your racing pulse, "Deep breath."

His voice is soft and it makes you dizzy, slowly pulling in breath until you feel a little more clear headed. Clinging to him slightly and he pulls you closer halfway on his lap so you can curl into his throat. Breathe in his cologne and hopefully think about him as much as he thinks about you.

Little does he know...

"Hmm, but you didn't get to have any fun." You pout, now real tears collecting in your eyes that have him chuckling again. Pressing his lips gently to yours before pulling himself away from you reluctantly.

"Oh I did." He presses his sensitive spent cock roughly through his pants until you can hear a muted squelch.

Suddenly there are hearts in your eyes, looking up at him and pushing him onto his back. Pulling his pants down until they sit midway on his hairy thighs, leaning over to lick the spent cum from his soft cock and if you weren't careful would quickly get hard. Your hand placed firmly on his sternum to keep him from getting up as your tongue travels to his heavy sac.

Togame just lies back, staring up at your ceiling, hand coming to circle yours until he's "clean" wishing you had texted him by accident months ago.

[brivetaroundtown]

[brivetaroundtown]

"Why is it a problem if students use AI to get through college"

Because if you demonstrate to me that you're willing to set aside concern for truth, evidence, and verifying things with your own eyes whenever it happens to be inconvenient for you, I have a solemn responsibility to make sure you don't get into medical school.