hawksugarbaby - Tumblr blog

[hawksugarbaby]

[hawksugarbaby]

WHY WAS THIS NOT TRENDING YESTERDAY. ON ACTUAL OCTOBER 3RD

TODAY IS THE DAY!!!

[hawksugarbaby]

Credit to @tteokdoroki

heavily thinking about only fans gf!reader and only fans bf!deku … like of!couple.

crying like you guys have the pretty kind of porn videos, illuminated by the sunrise or the sunset because izuku thinks golden hour is the best time the fuck you. the camera shows neither of your faces, but your audience can tell it’s you from the little green happy trail your boyfriend has along with the matching tiny angel wing tattoos you both have at the start of your pelvises.

your Twitter for promotions are probably just as cute, filled with previews from ten seconds to a minute of you having your world rocked by your boyfriend and the best dick you’ve ever had. there’s probably pictures of you too, with dekus fingers on your clit as you straddle him reverse cowgirl, maybe his hands on your waist when you ride him the other day. there’s some snaps of his creamy cockhead resting on your plump lips in a field of flowers, and others of you bent over in a grocery store— sticky panties pulled slightly to the side.

the camera you have is so clear, always capturing every moment— the type that changes focus when deku puts his fingers in front of the lenses and spreads them apart to show the clear strings of your slick that connects the two digits after he’s done playing with your cute little pussy.

your videos always start the same; with you both making out— wet kisses echoing throughout the scene, whether you’re in public or tucked away in your minimalist one bed apartment. his scared hands cup your neck— as if to choke you but mostly to remind you that he’s there, sometimes they dip lower to tweak your nipples under whatever adorable skimpy outfit your subscribers have or izuku has chosen for you this time round.

he always asks you “do you wanna show the camera your pussy, angel?” always in a sweet whisper, always when you both part for air and always giggled against your lips when your thighs squeeze together and deku has to force them open again. always gentle. “don’t be shy, c’mon, let them see.” and you’re so well behaved, that’s what your subscribers love about you both— how you’re so obedient for your boyfriend and how tenderly he treats you.

sometimes your videos are gentle too, izuku waking you up with his tongue stuffed into your quivering cunt and three fingers on your clit in slow circles— rubbing faster, harder, wetter as you wake up for him and cry out his name in broken syllables. your fingers always find his hair and tug him close, voice getting higher and higher until you squirt pretty for him and izuku is laughing breathily while he slaps down on your cunt, pulling the last of your clear arousal out of you in short streams.

sometimes your videos are more rough and raunchy— izuku just so happening to have brought the camera along on your afternoon walks, bending you over until your back arches and your ass is up in the air against a park bench or a tree. your clothes are half heartedly pulled down or to the side, your viewers getting the perfect view of your boyfriend’s taut ass as he pounds you harshly from behind, mixes of arousal slinging to the ground, cheeks clapping and his fingers shoved down your throat to keep you quiet. if they’re lucky he might position to camera underneath you, so the filthier of your viewers can see deku’s balls slap against your soaked clit too.

in videos where you suck izuku off, you have a cute little blindfold on to hide your face, lenses of the camera focused on the way precum oozes from his bright red tip— and deku’s cock is so fucking pretty, his moans the perfect mix of whiney and raspy and they ( your fans ) love how your nails are always manicured when you drag them down your boyfriend’s thighs, or tug affectionately at his balls or wrap your hands around the thickness of his shaft to jerk him off.

often, you’ll do challenges while you fuck each other with sweet giggles and random kisses. how many times can he make you squirt on his cock? how many times can izuku creampie you? how many positions can you fuck in? izuku will moan loud with you when he knows you’re about to cum or your little cunt is about to stream and squirt for him— the force pushing his veiny fat dick out of your hole. “oh? oh yeah? uhuh… that’s right, oh yeah angel… there you go, that’s it.” other times he’s too caught up in the moment, filling you up with viscous hot and white seed, to even be able to speak— guttural moans reading from deep inside of him as he does so.

your viewer’s favourites are when you cum so hard it gushes onto your gifted waterproof camera, when deku folds you missionary and they can see the backs of his thighs and ass quiver when he comes undone inside of you, and when he pulls out after you’ve come down and shared your sweet kisses so they can see the nasty, crude mix of your orgasms slide out of your raw pussy.

your videos end the same, with your chest heaving and deku’s face tucked into your neck while he makes you sweetly say thank you to your viewers for watching and that you’ll see them next time before the camera cuts off and it’s just you and izuku and some more soft kisses.

[hawksugarbaby]

I want to read this for the first time again.

This masterpiece is by @clints-lucky-arrow

you picked a dance with the devil (and you lucked out). ||

the corinthian x gn!reader.

It’s the eyes. The most beautiful he’s ever seen— a deep, luscious colour with a hint of gold banding the pupil. Instantly, the Corinthian knows that you aren’t human, but he’s intrigued all the same.

Inhuman!Reader. Elevator Sex. Knife Kink.

W/C: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Explicit 18+ ONLY. Anal Fingering. Dirty Talk. Knife Play/Threat. Anal Sex. Mentions of Murder and Death. Blood Licking. Netflix ‘The Sandman’ (2022) Spoilers. Hair Mention for Reader (No Other Physical Description).

MASTERLIST || NOTIFICATIONS

Support your content creators! Likes are appreciated, but comments and reblogs are golden!

A/N: I really tried my best to keep this gender neutral so you could imagine whatever equipment required 😎 Let me know if I slipped up in any areas!

The Corinthian sees you out on the street.

Your hands shoved in the pockets of your tight jeans, leather jacket around your shoulders, and ankles crossed as you recline— seated on the wide edge of a flower bed. Relaxed. At ease. Fitting into this world in a way that others, even humans themselves, would be envious of.

An artist sits before you, and the Corinthian sees that envy in his face too. Charcoal stains smear upon the man’s hands. His aged face is taut with concentration, brow furrowed. The sketch on the page takes life under his hands, and the Nightmare doesn’t miss how he focuses on your mouth— on your smile.

He wonders if the human knows that it’s strained.

Keep reading

[hawksugarbaby]

Ayo so update btw, Im not writing anymore. I physically cannot get a chapter out while working, uni, caring for my dad and all the other shit I do that an 18 year old shouldn't have too.

So this blog is just gonna be for me to reblog fics I really enjoy!

Soz guys.

[hawksugarbaby]

This was so good!

Credit to @melodramaticmura

(do you ever wonder) why?

Pairing: college fratboy!Kaminari Denki (slight puppy!Denki) x fem classmate!reader

"She like the strings on my guitar neck and my blonde hair

I write about her thighs in my latest lines

I remember her eyes when I asked her why"

Summary: Quirkless AU. The dude you got project paired with for lab is so pretty. This class is hard enough as it is. Now you have to figure out how to talk to him, too? Turns out, he's more than happy to give you all the prompts you need for that.

CW: NSFW MATURE CONTENT below the cut. Please read this carefully. This is ANGST to HAPPY ENDING with graphic sexual scenes. Some of the angst is caused by reader to Denki at one point (so if you don’t want to take that on momentarily, don’t,) old dating trauma that is not detailed but is alluded to causes some fear and defense mechanisms, reader has she/her pronouns, reader has a slight and often stutter, reader wears a lot of baggy/formless clothes by preference but also wears a skirt, reader has a LOT of insecurity issues and also battles anxiety disorder, slight ANXIETY ATTACKS are detailed for reader, Denki is ADHD!coded, I wrote a VERY puppy Denki, but this is NOT a petplay!AU he’s just a dog-like person in all the best ways, unprotected sex, daddy kink language, foot play, dumbification, reader has stretch marks, light personality stereotyping and why we musn’t do that lol, reader has a pretty specific personality maybe I gues asdfghjkl so I’m sorry if this isn’t super relatable to everyone but it makes me happy and I want him to drool over each and every one of us he thinks we’re all so smart and cool and pretty.

--

“Soo,” Denki drums his fingers on the lab station counter, “You any good at this stuff?”

You peer at him from over your glasses. He’s wearing this smile that’s all warmth and light, almost negating the need for the sunrise to break through the classroom windows.

You mumble, feeling a bit small and drab in his presence.

“I should read the instructions before I answer that.”

“Great idea!” he beams like he’s solved something, “I should probably read those too.”

A detached “Um, yeah” is offered before handing him the lab manual with nervous hands. You try not to stare as he skims it over, but there’s something about Kaminari that’s so… exigent of attention. Getting paired with him for a lab project was the last thing you’d planned for this morning. The class is far enough outside your comfort zone to begin with, but required for your general studies credits. And according to your professor, what’s also required is to face the very bright, blonde, genial energy source that is Kaminari Denki– at 8:30 AM. Whether this dude actually likes early mornings or just never has a shortage of spirit to be friendly is beyond and above you.

You noticed him on the first day of class, even without instigating conversation, because who couldn’t? But then that was just that, because you’re really not sure what you’d talk to him about, anyway. Kaminari’s attractive, sociable, and well-liked by everyone. He gets either dropped off or greeted in the hallway by a group of other attractive, popular looking, and occasionally very rowdy men. He just… takes up space, so shamelessly. The wardrobe’s always been surprising, though, fairly edgy for a ball of light. Lots of black and band tees, even men’s accessories sometimes, like the leather choker he’s wearing today around his neck, which is admittedly, a super badass choice. His whole bubbly nature thing throws you, though. When he approached the start of the semester by talking to everyone in every chair he could, you felt almost winded yourself, like it was you who was bopping around like a human pinball. Friendly people are cool, and appreciated, but sometimes safer and less scary to appreciate from afar.

When he looks up from the lab manual, it’s overwhelming– just the charm in his simple body movements; the sparkle in his large, angled eyes that are unfairly beautiful; the fall of his warm, flaxen hair when he moves his head, that one black streak of highlight running horizontally rather than vertically through his strands, which is so different. He’s so different. And this smile isn’t just attractive, it’s genuine, the kind you’d feel guilty not to return. Yours feels a bit tight-lipped and forced, but Denki is overjoyed to receive it. He’s been wanting to earn one from you all morning.

“What do you want first, y/n, bad news or good news?” There’s mock solemnity in his tone.

You glance at the papers in front of you, your name not yet written on any of them. Did he remember that from syllabi week introductions? But that was so long ago….

“Um,” you nibble on your lip, “The bad news, I guess.”

Denki hums, nodding in a slow, dramatic manner, like he’s just agreed to the conclusion of some important debate. He’s got one leg crossed over his knee, leisurely. “The brave choice. I can dig it,” he swivels boyishly on his lab stool, “means you end on a good note.” His eyes look naturally cat-like, actually, without even needing eyeliner. To compare him to a cat in any other way though would go against his excitedly wagging dog tail of a personality.

“Wouldn’t it take more bravery to um, end on the bad note?” You didn’t intend to indulge this so suddenly, so boldly, but it’s an interesting point.

“Maybe,” he halts his spinning to contemplate, “but, you’d be sad all the time. Enjoying life is brave in a better way, don’t you think?”

He looks at you, not saying anything else despite your prolonged stunned quiet, looking at him with your lips parted. Denki tries not to stare at them. Your mouth looks pretty and soft. Overhead lights catch the sheen from whatever chapstick you’re wearing.

“You’re really asking me for my opinion.” Your eyes hold increasing confusion, voice hushed.

“Of course.” Denki laughs like it’s absurd that he wouldn’t, like anyone as pretty as him ever asks your opinion.

“Well, if there’s a choice,” you doodle aimlessly, nervously in the margins of a paper, “then yeah, choosing to be sad sounds pretty lame.”

“Agreed,” he sighs, looking at the ceiling, “Masochism is overrated.”

“Kaminari?” It’s quiet and hesitant, but it’s the first time he’s heard you say his name, so it immediately pulls his attention. “What was the bad news?”

“Oh! So, this,” he gestures at the list of typed instructions on the manual, “doesn’t look like it’s my forte, unfortunately. Is it yours?” You groan, holding your head in both hands. Denki is surprised and appreciative of the dramatics.

“Not even slightly.” You speak downwards, to the table.

“Well, hey! Good news is that what isn’t my forte can be my challenge!”

“That was the good news?” You crane your neck enough to look at him with your head in just one hand, now.

“What?” He moves his face closer to you, teasingly. “Not good enough for you, gorgeous?” Your heartbeat takes off. G-gorgeous? What’s with this guy?

“S-sorry,” you laugh nervously, shoulders tensed, “I just, ’m kind of shit in this class. I-it has nothing to do with my major.”

“Same here” he follows, not looking the least concerned for the two of you. Your face falls.

Denki doesn’t want you worried, but can’t help but notice how pretty you still manage to look, frowning.

"Hold off on the long face until we give it a shot, yeah?" He smiles this warm, comforting smile. You feel embarrassed to have even complained.

"Yeah, of course. Yeah." You adjust the collar of your shirt, feeling quite flushed for being in a classroom with fairly reasonable AC.

Despite the confidence he seems to insist you have in the situation, what follows is mostly anything other than lab related progress. Kaminari stretching his lean arms and legs; Kaminari restlessly tapping his Dr. Martens on the tile floor; Kaminari firing back something charming to each classmate who greets him as they pass. It’s hard to be upset about this when everything out of his mouth is about you, questions about you, for you. It thoroughly prevents you from planning the project. Has a man ever asked you this much about yourself before? Denki wants to know what you study; why you like it; what you do on slow days; what cinema you like. His questions are just as distracted, running in circles and confusing circuits as he tries to really meet you. Despite the energy behind his intrigue, there’s no force felt, no pressure to answer a certain way. He’s grateful for each shy, muttered response, like you’re handing him gifts, and he actually seems to prefer the unexpected, contradictory, or strange answers. There are soft crinkles at the corner of his amber eyes when he smiles at your thoughtful faces. He sounds like he means it when he says “That’s so cool” or “Nah, I totally feel you.”

And fuck if Denki doesn’t love watching the result of him asking you anything; how you put your pencil to your lips like you might chew on the eraser; how you wiggle slightly in your seat when you’re especially coy about something you tell him; how you fidget with the sleeves of your slightly oversized shirt that you look so cute in– he wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his. When time is up for class, you can’t bring yourself to comment on how little work the two of you achieved, or even to care as much as you should. You excuse yourself to go return the lab equipment neither of you put to use and when you return Kaminari’s handing you a semi-neatly collected pile of your class materials.

“Thanks,” you stare blankly, processing, “you didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Denki tucks some of his gorgeous hair back, black highlights falling around his ear, “Just that nice of a guy, I guess.” The smile that follows from you is his favorite yet, like you’re done with his shit, but he thinks I haven’t even started.

You “Tch” at him, rolling your eyes as you zip up your backpack and head for the door. “Um I’ll see you next week– Denki.” You hope it sounds confident, or neutral at the least, and not the million confusing things you’re feeling right now about him.

The best part is something you don’t turn around to see. Kaminari Denki, looking awe-struck off in your direction after you’ve already disappeared through the door, because whether you meant to or not, you finally used his given name– and he’s smitten.

You walk to your next class feeling more than strangely flattered, complimented. When was the last time someone asked you to talk about yourself– for so long? And he’s so charming, the mixed cockiness and dorkiness, included. What could he want from someone like you? The intrusive thoughts flood in. What could Kaminari get from flattering you? You couldn’t even do his homework for him in this class. And he didn’t want advice about a love-interest. He never even brought one up.

-

Focusing on actual work for this second lab session was the plan. And for the most part, you've been successful, quietly rerouting or shortly answering his off topic questions or statements despite your interest. Denki’s the one chewing on his lip this time, slightly beside himself about the change in vibe. The feeling in his gut is empty, either from missing lunch or the disappointment at your cold shoulder, but likely both. You two have nearly gotten to question 8 when he catches you staring at his chest instead of the paper you’ve still got your pencil to. He smiles like a kid in a candy shop.

“You alright?” He leans over, feigning interest at the question you’re on so you’ll feel his presence hover over you. The nervous wiggle of your ass in your seat is more than he could have hoped to see in response. “Didn’t finish your question there.” He’s just close enough to feel the warmth of his breath brush across your ear. There’s goosebumps on the small of your neck and your hair smells like– like lavender maybe? Something comforting. He thinks it suits you.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. I’m cool.”

He lowers himself back to his respective stool, reluctantly, and there’s a shared disappointment in the air.

“Good,” he smiles, “‘cause there’s no way I can answer that one.”

You giggle, air returning to your lungs. “You were staring a little.” Denki presses the topic, not ready to let it go; not wanting to return to the silence of this morning. He’d been waiting all week, looking forward to coming back here and making you smile or laugh or roll your eyes at him. You haven’t been giving him the proper chance– and he felt very close to sulking about it.

“I was just,” you avert your eyes, absolutely mortified at being caught, “I thought I recognized the album on your t-shirt,” you pause, mumbling, “cover art looks familiar.” Denki wishes he knew how you soothe your nerves. He wants you to stare at him for as long as you want, whenever you want. There’s no telling who’s more excited about it being the album you guessed it was, but you’re the only one trying to hide your grin in your shoulder, conversational resolve crumbling rapidly at the topic. The blouse you wore to session this week is a little more fitting than last week’s. Denki feels like he can see you a little in this and that enthralls him. He wants to give you so many compliments that he bites back, like that it’s a nice color on you, a shade of yellow you felt like donning today for some reason. When you break and ask him what other artists he listens to, he’s on cloud nine.

“A little bit of everything,” he rushes, “which I've been told before is a lame answer.” You smile at his honesty. How can he be so humble, sometimes, and so cocky, others? Denki watches your posture let down, relaxing as you listen to him. “I just think every genre has some good stuff in it, even if you have to dig a little more in some than others in order to find it.” You nod your head, turning towards him in your stool as he continues. “And I like that kind of investigation, ‘cause if you couldn't tell,” he gestures to himself and his grand, restless entirety, “I get bored pretty easily.” You laugh, eyes lighting up in his reflection, his energy and presence. He makes you so happy to be around– and that’s dangerous.

"Music is such a big part of my life,” you try, adjusting your glasses, “that limiting it for the sake of identity or whatever would be, um,” He wonders how many times a day you push those glasses up the bridge of your nose when they’ve barely even fallen. “counterproductive in many ways.”

“Yeeahh, you get it!” His smile is stunning, the brightest one to date. You could wheel him into the Biology class next door and tell them you brought a sun lamp. It’s like Denki’s excitement could come off in actual sparks from his beautiful body when you’re brave enough to indulge him. His dazzling teeth and the pretty pink tongue you can only imagine lies right behind them. “I live in a fraternity house,” he continues and something in you buckles, “so when we have parties and stuff it can be a whole lot of the same sound, but I've got like a million different records in my room when I need a change.” Denki’s too busy telling his story to catch how the flame in your eyes has dipped a little, “And the cool thing about having your own room in college is you can close the door and do or listen to whatever you want, you know?” He shoots you a suggestive grin. You’d have been more embarrassed by his playful, provocative air, but you’re slipping into something almost absent, so you just chuckle, lightly. And you go on like this, smiling politely at his tales for the rest of the hour before beginning to pack your bag. Denki’s got a pencil clipped to his flipped open notebook as he trips over himself to exit the classroom at the same time as you, stopping you outside the door. “Before we go, could I– maybe get your number?” You look up at him with vulnerability in your eyes but he’s so fucking nervous. All he sees when he looks at you right now is so pretty, holy shit. “We can talk project stuff over the weekend if you want. I know we’ve fallen behind schedule a little and–” you’re already writing your number on the page, your hand stuttering when he adds, “I could buy you dinner–” you look up and it’s that familiar, electric smile, twitching slightly at its edges from adrenaline, “since that’s very much my fault.”

Your smile, small as it is, holds so much confusion and reclusion and still yet– hope.

“Yeah, we’ll talk.” You write your name next to your number when you finish it, like he doesn’t already know, but your brain’s short circuiting. “L-later, Denki.”

You leave and he follows up with an awkward “Yeah, see you later!” as he watches your backside disappear through the door to the stairwell. Your brain, even when the fresh air hits you and you’re free of his intoxicatingly attractive presence, feels like mush. He’d asked for your number and you gave it to him. Kaminari Denki. Some class A pretty boy, a fucking fraternity brother asking for your phone number. It was… because you're lab partners. That's totally normal. He couldn’t mean anything else by it…right? He did make the dinner comment, though. You zip your jack up against the slight breeze, fighting the urge to pull the hood over your head like a security blanket. But, he couldn’t mean it as a date. You’re just another thing he'll get bored with entertaining, soon. He said it himself that he's like that– so there's no use fusing.

Totally not smooth, dude. Denki’s dragging a hand down his face when he catches the guys standing where they usually wait, staring. Kirishima can’t keep a laugh from escaping his covered mouth. Bakugou’s shaking his head towards the floor like he pities him.

"Never gonna’ happen, bro." Bakugou sighs at him.

"Oh yeah? Why not?" Denki folds his arms over his chest.

"You tell me, doofus” he sneers.

"Well, I just got her number so, HAH." Denki waves his notebook in Bakugou’s face with a childlike tenacity, absolutely vibrating.

"Did yah get her number because she's your lab partner ‘n she gave it to yah for academic shit?" Bakugou turns his face to the sky as they walk out into the afternoon sunshine, hands folding behind his head.

"Buzzkill," He pouts. Kirishima ruffles Denki’s hair with one giant hand and he’s happy again, just like that, nuzzling into Kiri’s palm with a smile.

"Yeah Katsuki, let the man have dreams.”

"Alright. Just saying she didn’t look that interested– or like the type that usually fucks you." None of Bakugou’s concern for Denki showing outwardly, of course, just his audacity.

“So she’s a bit tamer than the usual callers, who cares!” He smirks, “She’s a learning experience.”

“Learning? You?” Bakugou chuckles.

Denki softly wacks Katsuki over the back of his head. “Hey! I’m plenty smart–” but Bakugou is already lunging at him with surprise and rage at the offense.

Kiri’s prying them apart when Sero saunters over from his building, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. He lifts an eyebrow at Kiri like, What now?

“There wasn’t even a real argument,” Kiri chuckles as he holds the two men apart with an almost leisurely ease. “You’re making Sero look less cool by association! Get it together.” Bakugou snarls over the sound of Sero’s laughter.

“But babe, he hit me."

Kiri reaches down, pinching his cheek. "Did someone fight back to the rude thing you said?" Kirishima coos.

Katsuki, not knowing how to process that, turns on his heels and brats off, face and ears a beet red.

"Where are you going!?” Kiri calls after him, “Don't be like that."

Denki’s voice comes out in an awed whisper. "I can't believe you said that to him.” Sero nods in agreement.

"He'll cool off,” Kiri shrugs, but both men are still looking at him with clear concern. “Some things he needs to hear,” he sighs, “and better from me than from you. I won't lose a limb over it– he likes mine too much.” He stretches the muscles in his mammoth arms, grinning suggestively with that full row of big, white teeth, looking almost as cocky as his boyfriend– and any tension dissipates.

“Lunch?” Kiri chirps before wrapping his boundless wingspan around his housemates, pulling them along by their shoulders.

-

It’s Friday night when Denki texts you, early evening.

“Happy Friday, y/n. It’s Denki, your super cu–...” he backtracks his typing. Dial it back maybe. Just a little.

You look down at your phone as his messages arrive in quick succession.

Unknown Number (6:05 PM) : “Hey, y/n. It’s Denki. I’m free if you want to meet for the project or pasta.”

(6:06 PM) : “...or any other food. I went with pasta for the alliteration.”

(6:06 PM) : “Now I’m trying to think of other foods that start with ‘p.’ Panini? Italian is where this is going I guess, haha. Oh, and here’s my address.

(6:10 PM) : Just let me know if you’re interested :D

You stare at the screen until it times out. You’d half expected him to never text you at all, despite thinking about him nonstop. Denki asking you to dinner was like a strange, fever dream. Shouldn’t he have better, distracting things to do with his weekend; things that matched his energy; women who matched his energy. You don’t text back for a few hours, roaming around your apartment doing way too many chores for a Friday night, just to busy your hands. Still, there he was. You wash dishes, swirling a brush around the inside of a mug and it’s Denki, spinning the rings he wears on his lean fingers when he’s bored. You fold the laundry, stacking it neatly for your drawers and it’s Denki, stacking your folders and notebooks for you to pack away. You clean the bathroom mirror under the inferior, inorganic lights and it’s Denki, his stupidly perfect smile, outshining anything you’ve ever stood under. You just… couldn't go out with that Ken doll of a man. You’re not Barbie. And he’s so ridiculous and dorky in the best ways. What if this is all just one big joke at your expense? Maybe tomorrow, you decide. Maybe I’ll calm down and answer him tomorrow.

Ever the optimist, this is exactly what Denki hopes for when you haven’t texted. Maybe tomorrow. There’s still Saturday and Sunday. That’s why he hit you up on Friday anyway, so you’d have a choice of day from the weekend, so it’s chill. He heads downstairs to hang out with the guys, because it will distract him from you. He can help Kiri help Bakugou with dinner and it will distract him from thinking about what you two might have had to eat. He can crack jokes with Sero over a bowl and it will distract him from the image of your smile, how it feels to hear your laughter in real-time. He can watch TV with them on the couch, pretend he finds whatever plastic looking actress stars in the action movie to be as sexy as you and it will distract him from how adorable you look in those big shirts, and how turned on he gets when you wear something that allows him to even moderately see your figure. If that doesn’t work, if Denki can’t get you out of his head, he can tell them all he’s “going to bed,” and finish off his dirty thoughts in privacy. How would your face look if you let him under that blouse? If he rolled your nipples slowly and gently between his fingers before sucking at them harshly, grazing them a little with his teeth just to see what kind of noises you’d make, where you’d grab at him. If Denki couldn’t get you out of his head then he could sit on the edge of his bed and picture you there; how good you’d feel on top, riding his dick in nothing but one of his big shirts you’d start wearing in place of your own if you were together, if you were his. He’d ask you to, anyway, he’d beg you to wear his clothes. If Denki couldn’t get you out of his head he could fall backwards into his sheets after coming for the second time in a row like a fucking teenager, lay there on his back all wrecked and overstimulated, and realize how screwed he is if you’re not interested– so he does.

It’s Sunday afternoon when you finally answer.

Y/N: Hey, Denki. Sorry for the slow response. Got kinda’ caught up this weekend. It’s super nice of you to think of me. We’ll work something out in class?

The guys have been pretending like they don’t notice Denki moping around all weekend. Well, Denki’s version of moping. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His restlessness seems more from a place of discomfort than excitement. He doesn’t care what Bakugou makes for lunch. He isn’t sparking any opinion debates amongst everyone. He keeps wandering off to his room. What Denki doesn’t see is you, sitting on the edge of your own bed, practically rocking back and forth before you sent that text message. You, asking yourself why you’re still like this, why you have to be so scared, why you can’t just let yourself consider the butterflies in your stomach. He doesn’t see you, burning your dinner because you keep zoning out, looking over to you cell phone that you keep bringing with you into every room, waiting for a reply that never comes; one that that might make you feel better, prove you right about it probably being no big deal to him, after all. Denki sits down at his barely used study desk and tries to knock out some homework before sleep, but his ability to focus is even worse than usual. Instead he just sits there, knees hugged into his chest, appreciating how your name looks next to your number in his notebook, the particular style and angle at which you draw your letters. He thinks you have really cool handwriting. He turns the light out.

-

“Not that I don’t like you looking at me, but your sample B is gonna’ spill.”

“Oh! I’m–” you shoot up from where you’ve been hunched over the lab counter. The sudden recoil of one arm knocks your sample tube over, blue dye tinted liquid spilling all over the manual papers. “Shit! I’m so sorry oh my god.” Denki’s not half as stressed as you are about it. He’s honestly still recovering from your having gazed at him as you zoned out. There’s been a sad look to your mouth all morning and he hates to see it deepen even further the way it is now.

“Hey, it’s cool! Y/n, It’s alright.” Your hair’s a little messed up from how you’d been leaning on your hand. Your eyes are so alive, a bit frantic, he tries his best not to find it cute.

“No it’s not! I ruined them.” You sound so sad. “They’re yours too.”

“Y/n,” Denki attempts a serious tone and you look up, “We can just ask the professor for new ones.” You blink at him, shocked and calmed by his lack of anger regarding your mishaps.

“Just, breathe for a second, yeah? I’ll be right back.” Your responses are dazed, nodding as he stands from his stool and leaves. The spilled solution bleeds into more lines of printed text as the papers soak it. Your thoughts are interrupted by a hesitant, gentle tug at your sleeve. “Y/n?” He says your name so nicely and so often. Why is his voice just as heavenly as the rest of him? He’s touching you. That’s his hand on your sleeve, fingers barely brushing the exposed skin of your wrist, yet you feel like you've been shocked. If your arms were exposed, he’d see goosebumps everywhere.

“Arms above your head” Denki whispers. Your heart stops, mouth visibly parting. You look left and right as if anyone else was close enough to hear him, as if you two were even doing anything to be caught in.

“W-what?” Your immediate embarrassment is so sexy. Denki loves confident, experienced, outspoken women and his long history of salivating over them, but there’s just something about how shy and worked up you get the second he says something even remotely suggestive or looks at you for too long.

He giggles. “Well, at least the right arm.” You furrow your brows. “C’mon. Trust me.”

You do as he says, sheepishly raising an arm above your head, resting a hand on your warm, flushed neck. He leans forward and starts dabbing at your forearm with a wet paper towel that you hadn’t even realized he’d come back with. “See, you got it on your sweater.”

“Oh” is all you say because having Denki’s body so near is making your head swim. You can smell whatever cologne he wears. It’s sort of a classic scent, but there’s bright undertones to it, maybe some citrus behind…cedarwood?

“You could totally be mad at me right now, but you’re not.” It’s a quiet, bewildered murmur. Denki’s not sure you even meant to say it out loud. He’s been nothing but sweet and casual to you all morning, despite your texting disaster. And now, this happens– and he’s still the one comforting you.

“You think I’d be mad at you?” He says it like you’re insulting his character, and maybe you are from what you’ve learned.

“Well, you’d have a right to be.” There’s shame in the way you hold your shoulders. Your eyes downcast to match.

“We have a right to be a lot of things that are still kind of shitty to be.” You lift your face and it's so, so close to his. “But that’s just my own opinion.” The small grin on his kissable mouth. The slight squeeze he gives your elbow while he holds your arm, sounding like the first day you ever spoke to him. This man says these crazy smart things out of nowhere, not to assert himself over you or make you feel dumb– but, because he wants your opinion too.

“You’re really kind, you know.” Your whisper, sweet and confessional. Denki wants to hear it again, against his lips– anything you say in that tone.

“Yeahh,” he sighs dramatically, still working for a smile, “but, it’s nice to hear, anyway.” You roll your eyes, huffing. “I’m also really funny and cute and cool, so feel free to tell me those things too. Did I tell you I play the guitar?” You try to bite down your smile and he watches you lose, mouth wavering as it rises, curling upward just the way he wanted it.

“I’m going to go ask the professor for a new lab manual.” You state, but make no move to rise or take his arm from yours.

“Okay.” He replies, making no move to change your position, either. The longer you let yourself stare at him, the faster time passes. Slowly, and so fucking reluctantly, he lets your arm down, knowing that if you keep looking at him like that he’ll kiss you.

You return with the frown on your face Denki worked so hard to get rid of. He’s already a bit pissed at the professor for whatever he did to return it there so quickly.

“Oof,” he shakes his head, “not go so well?”

“He uh, sure did choose to be one of the shittier ways he had the right to be.” You’re disappointed when he doesn’t laugh, figuring he’d find that funny. He would have, usually, but right now he’s folding his arms over his chest, clearly unhappy. “Like a jackass?” It’s more of an announcement than a statement, not of modest volume level at all.

“Denki!” You step close and swat at him, practically standing between his knees where he sits. You both gasp a little at the contact, like you’re just as surprised by your own motions. “B-be quiet,” you plead, still staring at where your hand connected with his chest, “He’ll hear you.”

“Hm” is all you get back as Denki considers everything other than doing that. God, he can’t decide what he feels stronger about, you standing between his legs with that hot look on your face when you beg him to do or not do something, or that the shitty professor hurt your feelings.

He could get a hard on just from you standing there, lightly brushing against his thighs with your waist. Once you sit back down in your stool, thoroughly as strung up as him about the contact, the both of you are quieter than usual for the remaining minutes of class. You catch him side-eyeing the professor as he packs up, face is twisted, eyes accusatory. He looks like someone’s ticked off pageant mom.

“What’s that face about?” You laugh and he softens at the sound, eyes trailing your face, then your neck, then your shoulders. It makes your legs weak when Denki looks at you like he’s studying something, like he doesn’t give a fuck if you catch him.

“Just thinking of how to get back at him for being a jerk to you.” The mischievous grin makes you think he’ll really do something. “Lots of fun ideas.”

“No no. Let’s just, just call it a day.”

“Fiiine,” Denki submits.

Leaving class today feels like you’re missing something, or like you’re about to miss something, or maybe both. Should you have brought up the weekend? About not texting him? Denki’s trailing close behind you as you pass through the lab’s propped open door. “Hey y/n, my next class got canceled, so I was wondering if I could like, walk you to yours?” Oh God. He’s playing nervously with one of his stud earrings while he asks you, the ones he keeps in his upper cartilage which look so, so hot on him.

“But, what about your frien–” you look over to the corner they usually decorate when they wait for him, but no one’s there.

“My friends? Told them not to wait up. No worries.” Pink brushes Denki’s cheeks at the thought of you putting two and two together. He told them to knock off so he could ask to walk you.

“O-oh, thanks then.”

“Is that a yes?” He chuckles.

“Oh. Yeah.” You adjust your backpack strap. “Thank you.”

He follows you into the elevator and it’s just you and him standing side by side, shoes only an inch or two apart, adrenaline souring. That is until none other than your sour professor steps in at the last minute, giving you both a foul look. He turns away from you two, waiting for the doors to close as he bitches about something to someone on his cellphone. In an effort to make you laugh and, let’s be real, to obtain his own revenge, Denki stands in front of you and make pretends a phone with one hand, droning on like the professor is. He twists the headphones resting around his neck and and uses them to mime that he’s choking to death, likely from boredom, you assume. You seriously have to put a real effort into not laughing out loud. You look so hot with your hand half covering your mouth, teeth on your bottom lip. Denki should take that hand and pin it behind your back so he can see that gorgeous smile, so he can kiss you into a whole different kind of needing to contain yourself. When the professor starts turning around, you panic, grabbing Denki by the front of his v-neck and pulling him into you to stop his acting before it’s seen. The elevator dings, doors opening and releasing your professor who may or may not have seen what’s unfolding now. Neither of you can know or care with your fronts pressed together, bodies flush against each other. He’s so warm.

Denki looks down at your hand still fisted in the front of his shirt, and you quickly remove it, much to his chagrin. "'m sorry. He was going to see you. He–" your sentence drifts off as you simply can’t finish it. Denki looks contrary to his usual air. You’ve seen charming and teasing and tantalizing, but never this– hungry, motivated look in his eyes as he grits his teeth, doing everything in his power to not push you by your hips into the wall and taste that pretty mouth. What would you do if he told you to put both arms above your head this time. Would you listen? Would you press your hips into his? Could he get you needy in public? He’s still imagining this when the elevator dings, doors opening again.

“D-denki. It’s my stop.” Your breathy murmur breaks him from his precious, perverted scenarios. Once he comes to and follows you out of the elevator, he almost feels guilty about them. Denki told himself he’d try to ease up on the flirting, give you a chance to tell him to buzz off, to say you don’t like him and that’s why you never texted back, but it’s so hard around you, so hard.

“My next class is in Jamison” you mutter and he nods, turning off in the appropriate direction beside you. “Sorry if I, uh–”

“Don’t apologize,” Denki says pathetically quickly, “I minded like, 0%”

You feel your face heat for maybe the 20th time today. “Oh.”

Denki watches the way your shoe laces bounce on top of your boots as you walk, one bow tie lopsided and ready to loose. He’d lean down and fix it for you if you let him.

“You’re mad shy with compliments, aren’t you?”

Your hands start shaking. “Um they– only give me like a minor heart attack, yeah.”

He laughs. “Is that why I didn’t get to cook you pasta over the weekend?”

“Did you… actually want to do that?” You haven’t looked up from your shoes.

“What do you mean? Of course.” You fidget with the drawstrings of your hoodie, missing the nervous look on his face, the deep breath he has to pull before adding “I was asking you out, y/n. Of course I did.” You can feel yourself begin to panic, the nausea rising in your gut, head spinning. You didn’t know he was asking you out, not for sure, and it was scary. You weren’t used to this shit being real.

“I’m not s-sure that would go over well.” The ground looks like it’s started to spin.

“Why?” There’s that earnest wondering of his. Why? you think, Fuck, why?

“You’re um, sociable, Denki, a-and happy, and talkative.” They’re compliments, an urgency in their conveyance, trying to explain why you’re not good enough for him without saying just that.

“Is that not, um?” He scratches at his neck, trying to find the words, “what a date should be like? Do you want someone who’s like, rude and absent?”

It hits you like a fist to your upset stomach. It hits you like the truth. And you can’t process that kind of truth while you’re narrowly avoiding feeling the most vulnerable you’ve felt in ages, as well as an anxiety attack.

“Why would you want to go out with me? We have like, nothing in common.” It sounds mean, crawling out of your mouth from a place of ugly, defensive fear.

“How’d you figure that?” Again, his wanting to know, his questioning. You’re exposed. It’s like the sun, every star, every light in the galaxy is pointed at you, looking for something you don’t have; someone you can’t be– so bright you want to hide.

“I don’t know! I’m s-sort of nerdy and you don’t s-seem to care about your grades that much and I–”

“When did you get that impression?” Denki is defensive now too, if only slightly, or he wouldn’t be interrupting you this much.

“Well, you–” you’re sputtering, not taking enough breaths, “s-spend most of class either talking to people or staring off into space and–”

“That’s not because I don’t care about what we’re learning.” You look up and he looks so embarrassed, so sad, like he’s the one being bullied. Your chest stings to see it. “It’s just hard for me to focus in class.” He sighs. “That’s partly why I want to study together….” Denki’s arms have lost their usual sway and bounce when he walks, hanging weakly at his sides.

“Oh. I’m sorry then, that I uh…” you bite your lip.

“Blew me off?” Denki makes a conscious choice to giggle, to lighten the mood for you the way he does for everyone, to ease the pressure of wounds before reaching your building, but it’s a sick sound. He can take a hint and be respectful where he’s not wanted. He’s not a teenage boy anymore. “It’s alright. “Look, I get it. You’re not interested. It’s cool.” There’s a desperation in your eyes that he can’t see. He can’t look at your face again right now. Denki can’t see past what he’s forcing himself to output so he can leave this conversation on a brighter note. You’ve reached the doors of your building. “Just let me know when we can meet about the project, cool? ‘Cause it does um,” his face looks feverish, “matter to me.” You're lost for words. You feel so stupid and shitty. Denki turns on the heel of his Converse and waves goodbye with, somehow, still a hint of that boyish smile for you, even if you did just pull his heart out. “See yah, y/n.” And then he’s gone. And your anxiety sits down in the wake of an overwhelmingly heavy, lonely guilt, rolling out across your insides– with no sun, no stars. And the so dark is worse than the so bright, much worse.

-

When Denki doesn’t show up to class the next session you can’t focus on the lecture, the lab, anything. You’re even more indisposed than you’ve already felt constantly since last session. You even dressed up today, putting on your favorite skirt with a blouse that mildly hugs your figure, a slight v-neck frame with a length that can be easily tucked into the shirt. Is he not going to give you a chance to apologize? Still, he shouldn’t miss class material. He cares about his grade and it's important to your project too. Your cellphone hides in your lap and you fuss with it, turning it back and forth, considering texting him. Is he sick, maybe? He did text you his address last week, so maybe you should bring him your notes? Would that be invasive? Even if he doesn’t want to hear you out about the other day, he should still have the make-up material he missed in class. You’re his lab partner, you can take that much liberty, at least. Plus, if Denki’s not home or doesn’t want to see you then you can just hand it to one of his housemates and run away. Oh God, you inhale shakily, his frat brothers. If you go, you’ll have to meet them. It’s a lot of fear to ruminate on all day, but apparently not enough to not go, as you fidget with your outfit in the shitty lighting of the bathroom mirror after your last class, smoothing over wrinkles that don’t exist, adjusting straps that don’t need adjusting. All you can think of is explaining yourself. That matters more than the fear, apologizing.

Being in Greek Village felt like being a 15 year old emo at homecoming court. Your sneakers seemed to carry you there though, pretty decisively, even if you did feel like you might throw up your bento the whole time. It wasn’t just Denki’s fraternity house, it was all of them, in a roundabout, like a little hellfire circle. You do mentally guided breathing practices while you check for house numbers until you find the one matching the address he texted you. It looks like any other house around town that existed before the university bought it to rent out to fraternities. It’s a tan color, kind of boring exterior, but the greek letter plaques above the garage differentiate it from what might be your run-of-the-mill suburban family home. The porch is surprisingly well-kept and a handful of plants, maybe herbs, grow in pots fastened to the railing. A quaint loveseat swing sits next to a coffee table that has a copy of the county newspaper strewn across it, pages flipping up and down in the breeze. The lack of broken glass and crushed solo cups you had expected to see gives way to a much more interesting scene. Who sits out on the porch and reads the newspaper at a fraternity house? You’d think they keep some nice little ol’ lady here. The front door swings open before you’ve ever knocked on it, jarring you from your thoughts. Behind it is a very muscular blonde man, one you recognize from the group of dude’s Denki’s always with, standing with his shoulders back, looking like a mixture of a crossfit model and an angry guard dog. He gives you an uncomfortably obvious up-down, before his eyes rest on the newspaper clutched to your chest.

“Can we help you, princess? Or did you just come to steal my newspaper?”

“O-oh, this is yours?” You try not to sound too shocked.

He grunts.

“It was going to fly away, so I grabbed it. H-here.” You shove it toward him with an almost pleading urgency.

“Thanks,” he puts it under one of his massive arms, “Wasn’t finished with my crossword puzzle.”

Your eyebrows raise and drop quickly, but he notices, chuffing softly.

Bakugou doesn’t need to ask who you’re here for, but he can avoid creeping you out with that information, so he waits for you to speak.

“I’m y/n, Denki’s lab partner. I–” his crimson eyes are either scary or intoxicating, but either way you feel dizzy trying to hold them, “I wanted to know if he’s okay?” Cute, Bakugou thinks. “He didn’t come to class today, so I brought him my notes from lecture!” You say a little too enthusiastically to seem casual, “In case he’s sick or… something?” Clearly, you want an answer to “something?” If it were Kirishima at the door, hell, even if it were Hanta, you’d have likely received some socially courteous lie amongst the lines of “Denki’s up in bed with a fever.” or “He’s got a terrible headache today” or even “He thinks class blows and there’s cooler ways to learn.” But, since it’s Bakugou Katsuki who received you, he tilts his brows, squints his eyes distrustfully and says, “He’s probably just avoiding you.” Fuck. Um.

“U-understandable, I just thought I’d–”

“Hey! Who’s– Oh, hello,” Kirishima sings once he sees that it’s you, his arm perched on Bakugou’s shoulder as he peers out the door. “I hope you were nice to our guest.”

There is a grand silence from both you and Bakugou. Like crickets.

“Please, come in.” You think about refusing, but if you can get around the cold wall of reception that is Bakugou, maybe you can remember what you came here for. You follow the massive, red-haired man into his home. There’s another man lounged on the couch, much leaner than the previous two, built more like Denki. His presence completes the list of who you recognize of Denki’s friends. Sero is smiling at you gently, intrigued by the slight chaos of the scene. “I’ll go get Kaminari,” Kirishima chirps before ascending a set of stairs. With him gone you feel suddenly like a kid, like your guardian dropped you off somewhere that wasn’t too scary until they left. But, when Kirishima returns with Denki, you’ll have to actually face Denki, actually apologize, actually ask him out. You’d have way more room to feel anxious about that if your nerves weren’t entirely focused on the two men sitting on the couch, looking at you, shamelessly. Hanta’s eyeing you like he could have you for a nice lunch, and Bakugou’s eyeing you like he could kill you so Hanta could have you for a nice lunch. You tap your red Keds together, nervously, knees bending as you rock back and forth a little on your toes, waiting.

Denki’s voice is something it almost hurts to hear, because you’ve missed it, and hadn't realized just how much.

“Uh hey, y/n.” He’s wearing a black jacket over a plain white v-neck and black skinny jeans, looking classically him, classically handsome, but also– maybe also a little like someone who may have just thrown pants and a jacket over their lazy day shirt when told that the girl from their I’m Staying Home to Avoid This Girl Day showed up at their house. His hair is a little mussed up, not as perfectly shaped as normal, but still just as gorgeous. He looks nervous, but hopeful, a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there when he left you on the steps of Jamison.

What is she wearing? His brain starts overheating. That’s a skirt. Holy shit, y/n, those legs…

You need him to say something. Why isn’t he saying anything. Is he? Is he actually sick maybe? The cognitive decline is rapid. He looks like someone pulled a plug. He inhales deeply, evenly, thinking, Stop it Denki. She hurt your feelings– b-but there are so many bedrooms so close to us right now that outfit could be on the floor of outasdfghkl so hot so hot.

“Denki?” Your voice pulls his eyes to your face, no less distracting than the rest of you, but you look ill. “I came to–” you look terrified actually, which helps sober him a little, “i-is it okay if I apologize?”

He takes a few steps forward, pushing off the railing of the stairs, so you can feel his familiar presence in at least the same room as you. Amongst all these strangers, Denki can only assume you’re struggling quite a bit to speak up. He wants to grab your hands between his, comfort their shaking.

“Yeah, I mean you don’t have to–” You immediately cut him off.

“Y-yes. I do. I’m s-sorry.” He tilts his head at you like a puppy, concerned at how upset you sound, voice trembling.

“I was rude and mis-misleading. I th-thought about,” you take a deep, loud inhale, not giving a fuck about how obvious you make it that you’re emotional. You need to get this out right now or you won’t do it. Breathe. “I thought about what you s-said. Dates that are mean or ignore me isn’t what I want, but it is what I’m used to.” Everyone’s eyes soften in your direction, including Bakugou’s. You twiddle your thumbs. “And people as handsome as you are just asses to me, usually.”

“So you do think I’m handsome?” Denki’s eyes are huge. He looks like one of those orphaned puppies in kids movies. The pristine golden retriever puppy you’re supposed to find in a cardboard box on the street, which isn’t realistic. And that’s your point. Denki looks like what everyone wants and no one abandons.

“Pathetic,” Bakugou growls, “let her finish.” Kirishima shoots his boyfriend a look that says You, shut up.

“Duh, Denki. I have eyes.” Denki is aglow now, almost literally. He could shoot off into space at your compliment, but he’s trying to pay attention. “I was being close-minded and– everything you said about me was true.” The way he’s raking his eyes all over you right now makes your knees weak. You can’t believe you’re saying this in front of all his friends. “You’re v-very smart, actually,” and in any even shyer whisper, “and more emotionally intelligent than I am, prob’ly.”

“‘bout time” Bakugou mutters. Sero reaches over quickly, tapping his mouth shut with a hand.

“Sorry about him, sweetness,” Sero grins as Katsuki growls into his palm, “he’s muzzled now.”

You don’t really care that much. You’re consumed by Denki and how to stop rambling and what he’ll say when you do stop rambling and if your nervous knees are going to buckle into the floor of Sigma Phi Delta’s living room.

“Anyway, I’m just,” you shuffle your feet a little, eyes shifting to the ground because you can’t look at him and say this part. “I’m really sorry. And if you want to come study tonight I’d make you dinner at my place and we can um–” Denki’s ecstatic to hear that, coming to full-bodied life again as if his heart has some master switch you just flipped back on, “work on the project, but I know it’s a school night, so–”

“Hah! Like he cares that it’s a school night,” Bakugou howls from the couch.

“Hey!” Kiri yells from the kitchen, pointing a finger, “when did you lose your muzzle!?”

“Sorry, Mom!” Sero tapes a hand back over his mouth, but Bakugou slaps it away.

“Quit that shit or else.” Hanta weighs his options, having too much fun with everything in the room.

You lift your head and Hanta’s kicking off the couch. “My apologies, princess. He does bite, so I’m not risking my fingers. You’ll just have to ignore him.” Katsuki rolls his eyes as Sero saunters over, extending said fingers for you to shake. “I’m Sero, by the way.” You’d never noticed him much from afar, but he’s quite captivating one-on-one. His smile is natural and charming as he shakes your hand, bowing his head a little. Denki has seen him woo too many girls at too many parties in this living room to be okay with this. Everyone, actually, is paying too much attention to you for his liking. He steps forward, slotting himself between you and Sero. You finish shaking his hand with that coy smile on your face that none of them should get the privilege to gawk at.

Denki grabs it, gently squeezing your fingers. “Let’s get you away from the vultures.”

There’s a unified chorus of mild uproar. “Vultures!?” and “Yo!” and “What the fuck?”

“Oh no, it’s fine!” you naively insist, “They’re um, they’ve been nice to me, Denki.”

“Yeah, Denki,” Sero smirks at him, chock-full of conspiracy, “We’ll be really nice to her.”

Bakugou chuckles lowly from the couch.

A sudden tug at your shirt sleeve pulls you forward, urging you towards the stairs behind him. “Nah, you’re coming with me to grab my bag, please.” It’s decisive and a tad pathetic, like Denki can’t let you get away anymore for anything– which is exactly what the boys were working for.

“Boo!” Sero calls out after you both, “Lame!”

“But, Denki! I didn’t even take my shoes off!” You protest. All three men behind you still watch your skirt ascend the stairs, cackling as you struggle to keep up with him, despite their mostly good intentions.

“It’s fine,” Denki dismisses, “Bakugou’s a cleaning junkie.”

-

The walk back to your place is warm, a hum of energy in the air between you two, quietly giddish. You don’t know what to do with your hands. All skirts should just have pockets. Denki keeps sticking his hands in his own pockets and pulling them out while he talks in circles. You’d think he hadn’t seen you in months, the amount he has to say.

“Sorry to show up all unannounced like that. I hope that Bakugou guy isn’t too mad. He didn’t seem to like me very much.” You giggle.

“Oh no, it’s cool! He’s just a little… protective.” Denki smiles, shyly. “I think he saw me sulking a little when I didn’t hear from you.” You’re flattered and ashamed at the same time, smiling down at your feet. “Bakugou just has a mouth on him like that about anything,” he assures.

“Damn. Really?” You watch your feet pass over concrete sidewalk blocks, so Denki watches them too, relishing in how fucking good your legs look in this outfit, your pretty, exposed skin.

“Yeahh. At dinner last night he called Kiri a ‘tasteless, inferior coward’ for preferring his chips without dips, and that’s his boyfriend, soo…” your head is already thrown back in laughter, “if that’s any indicator,” he finishes, gazing at you with a satisfied expression. He’d do anything to make you laugh like that as often as he can. And God, this blouse. He can actually make out the slope of your shoulders, how they move up and down with your laughter.

“Well is he like, lactose intolerant or something?”

“No,” he says and you crinkle your cute little nose with judgment.

“Oh. Then, that is kind of questionable.”

The walk to your apartment feels like five minutes rather than the 20 it truly takes. Denki says your Keds are cool and “a good choice for you since your shoes always need retying,” plus whatever else he can conjure up to keep you oscillating between your witty sarcasm and those shy little smiles you give when he points out something else about you that you didn't expect him to notice or to like.

Denki wants to know what your room looks like, like really wants to know (so he can have new material for his guilty daydreams that are feeling less and less guilty every time you look at him with your lip between your teeth.) When he steps into your apartment though, what he gets is just as good. You’ve spread blankets on the floor with pillows to lean back on and there’s a nice air freshener going, something fresh and cool smelling, maybe cucumber. One of the living room windows is cracked for the warm evening breeze to come through. Some of your folders and notebooks already lay out on the floor, the only thing distinguishing the scene as a study date.

“Damn,” he whistles, “someone expected me to say yes, didn’t she?”

You hide your face in your hands, but he pulls them away, leaning down to get in your space like he’s wanted to for so long, teasing you.

“Not expected, j-just hoped! I was gonna’ ask you in class, originally, and I–” you bat your pretty eyelashes at him, and that alone makes his pants feel tight. “I’ve been feeling kind of horrible, and I don’t have any roommates, so this gave me something to do.”

“Yeah?” he presses, trying to not get stuck on the no roommates thing, “Been a wreck over hurting my feelings, doll?” You’d say something smart, but the nickname makes your head spin and your stomach flutter.

“A little, yeah.” You mutter, a grand understatement.

“‘s all okay.” He pinches your cheek. “What’d you make me to eat?”

“Pushing it, Kaminari.” Your frown is adorable.

Denki makes himself comfortable on the floor, taking some books out of his bag as you go pull a platter of finger foods from the fridge, returning to sit down beside him. You fold your legs into each other and he can’t take his eyes off of them, the way your feet tuck up into your thighs as you sit criss-cross in that sinfully angelic skirt. You’re fucking killing him in this outfit.

“I brought snacks” you chirp and he slowly lifts his eyes, traveling from your thighs to your waist to you clavicle and by the time he reaches your face, you feel like your heart has stopped.

“Mhm, you sure did.” Denki’s voice is darker, golden cat eyes dilating several centimeters as they stare you down. You have a feeling he’s not talking about the cheese and crackers.

“Th-the grapes are my favorite.” You pick one off the plate and pop it into your mouth, skittish under his intense ogling. Shit, that was dorky.

Denki chuckles, picking another grape up and scooching closer to you, holding it out in front of your face.

“Open,” he says it gently, but there’s no room for argument in his eyes. He can feel himself getting hard from just your lips brushing across his fingers as he places it on your wet, pink tongue.

You're absolutely pulsing. It’s all you can hear in your ears and all you can feel between your thighs, how aroused you are with him in your living room like this, feeding you.

“You did all this for me?” Denki asks.

“Yeah.” You’re still staring at him, “I– really am sorry, Denki.” He tries to excuse your 20th apology, but you keep going, because it’s important. “Remember w-when we were talking about choosing to be happy?” Darkening eyes flit across your face as he listens. “You know, like when you have a choice?” Your voice is unsteady. He nods. “I’m still working on that,” you whisper, bare and confessional.

Denki drags a knuckle across the span of your cheek.

“It’s okay, y/n. You can just make it up to me by like, doing our entire project or something.”

“W-what!?” You attempt to move away from him, but he puts a hand at your lower back, keeping you there.

“Or,” he stresses, theatrically, “you could let me kiss you?” It’s so smooth the way he pitches it, but the rouge that thoroughly dusts his cheeks gives him away, just as vulnerable and wanting as you.

“Second one,” you mutter, “D-definitely.” He’s too excited to laugh. You’re too excited to scold him for teasing you. Denki cups your face with his opposite hand, pressing his lips to yours, bringing your body in closer. There’s so much behind his kiss, so much you still don’t understand, but want to accept it. When you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip he groans, lifting your body to straddle him. Denki's kisses are deep and playful, like him. He nips at your lip gently and when you moan, pulling at his shirt, he does it again. Denki tries to keep his hands on your hips, move slowly, but all he wants to do is feel you everywhere, know you everywhere. You break away when you’re nearly breathless. In your eyes is just, total fondness… and comfort, maybe, which is what he’s wanted from you all along.

“You’re so pretty,” you smile, pushing blonde locks behind his ear before reaching up to play with an earring. Denki melts under the affection.

“Am I?” He smirks with his eyes shut. You rock your hips into his boner to see that smug face shift to the image of him biting down on his lip, whining pathetically.

“Fuck, y/n.” Denki can’t be patient anymore. He holds you firmly in his arms, lowering you down onto your back. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about you like this." He kisses along your clavicle as your chest moves up and down rapidly, breathing deeply from his touch.

"Jerked off to the thought of you in my lap, riding me like that." You moan shamelessly at his pervert tales. "More than once," he hisses, sounding almost pained. "So, don’t tease me. Please.” He’s begging. Denki is begging you not to tease him.

“Not teasing," you bend one leg so you can rest it into his side, caging him, nudging him into your center, “want you.”

Denki's kisses travel lower, even when your shirt gets in the way, he keeps kissing, down your chest, down your stomach while he massages your breasts, squeezing harder each time you sigh.

There are stars in his eyes when he looks up at you.

“Gonna’ put my hands under this little skirt?” but he says it like a question, attempting permission through determined lust.

“O-okay” you say demurely. His hands are on your bare thighs, inching upwards slowly, too slowly. You whine and wriggle. He just wants to feel the heat of your soft skin in his hands the way he’s imagined, not miss any of it, enjoy every second. You can be patient.

“You wore this for me?” he muses out loud, but again, it’s like a question. Denki can’t bring himself to believe this is happening, that you’re here, letting him take you. He’s got his eyes full of everything but your face right now, almost boyishly, shyly. It doesn't matter how many people he's been with– you're you.

“Yes,” you whisper softly, “For me too, but I want you t-to, to…”

“To what? 'cause I'll do it.” He says it so quickly, you giggle, gaining confidence.

“Want you to– look at me, you know, ‘like that,’” you hint suggestively at your meaning. He can’t handle how cute you are. He's nearly going down on you and you still act like this. “Just I’m, I’m n-not really sought after–”

“That you know about,” he chuffs in firm disbelief, but you frown at the interruption. “My bad, my bad,” he concedes. He'd flash his palms but he doesn't want to take them off your thighs, still peppering kisses over them while you speak.

“I want you to look at me, though." You blink at him with big, cherubic eyes. The things he wants to do to you. Denki moves up your body so he can tilt your face to his.

“What if I told you I’m looking at you all the time?”

“L-like that?” you squeak, brows raised.

“Mhm,” he hums, pulling your bottom lip down slowly with his thumb. “Like that.” When it snaps back, the kiss is immediate, hungry. It’s sudden, rougher than the last makeout. The feeling in your stomach is immeasurable, like you just need him, the pressure of him everywhere. You're hot and desperate, bucking your hips into his to urge him on. He holds you down, pressing his groin into your clothed pussy and it’s like being struck by pleasure.

“Feel what you do to me?” He’s so hard. It’s enough to have you throwing your head to one side, overwhelmed by how good it is, even with your clothes on. You’re panting and whimpering like you're in heat, pawing at him for more. Your hair is splayed out messily, lips kissed all swollen and wet by him, parted while you gasp and whine. “Baby, so sensitive,” he muses, “When’s the last time someone touched you?” He plants kisses along your jugular vein, pronounced from the turn of your head, skin damp and salty on his tongue. He'll taste you everywhere if he can, literally everywhere.

“Long time” you breathe out. There’s a firm squeeze at your breasts in response. Denki doesn't usually give a fuck, but with you? The thought of being the only one who's touching you sounds so appealing. He makes his way back to your thighs. The rings he wears feel cool to the touch in contrast to the heat of his fingers. He presses his face into your lower stomach and you yelp, needing the pressure right there somehow, right there. He inhales your scent there, everywhere, moving you around as he pleases to put his mouth somewhere. “If I had it my way you’d get fucked in everything I’ve ever see you in. Any room, any outfit.” Denki’s breath is on your thighs, lips still wet from his own salivating. He looks high off your pheromones, watching you rub your thighs together for friction. “‘Cause I thought about it in all of ‘em.” Teeth bite down at your stretch marks.

You gasp, looking down at him with awed, watery eyes.

“You are a dog.” You say under your breath as he licks each almost-wound he creates, like he’s sorry; like he isn’t just going to do it again; like you don’t desperately want him to never stop.

“Drooling at the mouth,” he agrees. Denki lifts the edges of your skirt between his index and thumbs, looking at you, expectantly. “Can I have my treat, baby?” Your head reels at the sight of him between your legs, actually salivating.

“I’ve waited so patiently, haven’t I? Been such a good boy?” You keen at his dirty language. He’s such a freak–it’s so sexy.

“Fuck” you whine, “Yes, yes you have.”

He nudges your skirt with his nose, flipping it up onto your stomach so he can get to his meal.

“Pretty,” Denki comments as he traces the front of your cute little panties, “But I bet your pussy’s prettier.” He hooks a finger into the soaked cotton over your center, pulling it over to one side so harshly you jump a little, licking his lips. “Yeahh,” he hums, “just what I fucking thought.” You can’t take it anymore, pressing his head into you and he moans at the action, at your taking initiative, and at the immediate taste on his tongue. He nudges at your soaked folds with his nose, licking as he travels up, up, until he finds– “Oh!” You gasp, squeezing his head between your thighs and he chuckles.

“Good girl. Keep me right where you want me.” He could pass out here for all he cares. Denki slips his hands under your shirt. You pull it over your head restlessly, needing less obstruction and he almost, almost leaves your pussy to get a look at you. When your gasps grow shorter, whines higher in pitch, he hounds at your clit with his nose while his tongue flicks in and out of your delicious cunt. “Taste s’ good, so fuckin’ good.” You’re nearly thrashing, thighs tensing around him even tighter, spewing incoherent words. “C’mon, baby. Let me have it.”

All it takes is a few more tight circles, a few more laps.

“Denki, denki,” you pray as you come undone for him. He’s elated, so romantic, so satiated with your pussy in his mouth and your voice in his ears.

“That’s it, babydoll.” The slurping sounds he's making are debauched and you’re so, so sensitive, pleading with him for a breather.

The only thing that pulls Denki from the taste of you is remembering that the sight of you topless waits above him. And it doesn’t disappoint. He eyes you so adoringly, so thoroughly, like he always, always has. Makes you feel warm in another way.

“Kiss me” you plead and he spreads the taste of you all over your own mouth, sharing it with you like a gift. There’s whispers between sweet, slow kisses that get slower and slower until he seems to have settled above you.

“Why’d you stop?” You squeak shyly and he smiles.

“Wanna’ keep going?” he asks evenly, sounding in better control of himself than he is.

You wrap both legs around his waist, pulling his front back into you. He chuckles at the wordless response. You grind against his covered hard-on through his pants, reaching for his belt.

“We can move to a bed if you want.”

“Here is fine,” you excuse the idea, “Here is good.”

“Needy,” he smirks. “Want me that badly, huh?” It’s that smug shit of his, not all talk, but easily flustered and broken.

“C’mon, Denki,” you turn the tables, “Told me you’d fuck me anywhere,” you pout up at him.

His eyes could roll back in his head just hearing you say that. You, wiggling your hips on the floor, writhing impatiently underneath him is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“You on birth control, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathe, “Yes, promise.”

“Gonna’ take this off now.” He hooks a thumb in your ruined panties and drags them down your legs, completely distracted when they catch at your ankle and hang there from one foot. You try to kick out of them but he grabs ahold on your leg, nibbling at the top of your foot before you feel his front teeth bite down ever-so-lightly on the pad of your big toe. You gasp, embarrassed at the sight.

“You’ve got the cutest feet, princess.”

“Denki, that’s dirty.” You whisper like it’s a secret.

“That’s nothing.” He holds eye contact while he slips the toe into his mouth, releasing it with a pop sound. “‘m an animal, love, remember?” You blossom internally at the nickname, relaxing fully back into the blankets, putty in his hands. When he unhooks your panties from your ankle and shoves them into his jean pocket for later, you don’t question him. You’re more concerned with the fact that he still has jeans. Your fingers fumble to get his belt undone, tugging at the length of it once it’s unbuckled. It takes you a few tries, but you free him of it. You’re helping him tug his jeans off when he sees a decision spark in your eyes. “Lie down” you whisper.

“Huh?” He’s lost some serious ground, looking quite like the needy one now.

“On your back,” you explain, grabbing his torso, twisting him behind you and onto the floor. You straddle his lower legs, lowering your head to his dick. He lets in a sharp breath and you giggle.

“I haven’t even touched it yet.” He loves that confident smile of yours, the rare sight of it becoming less and less rare. You two have so much in common when you let loose. You almost look cocky right now as you reach your hands around his hips, grabbing his ass and squeezing.

“Oh?” he grins in surprise. You giggle, over the moon. “Respect, babe. I respect.” You pinch him, harder than he expected, and he whistles, playfully.

You take his black boxer-briefs by their band, pulling them away. Denki watches how the curves of your hips move in this position. He can’t wait to take you like that, from behind, with your pretty ass up in the air.

Denki’s dick is as pretty as he is, a few inches above average length, and oozing precum from the dark pink tip. It’s your turn to drool.

“Babydoll,” you look at his clearly struggling face, “Wanna’ be inside you.” He’s whining again.

“But I’m gonna’ suck your dick?” Fucking hell.

“Another time.” Your shoulders fall and you turn away, looking embarrassed.

“Shit that’s not what I meant, I–” just the feelings of your warm breath on his cock is driving him insane, “want your mouth everywhere,” he assures, forcing you to look back at him, “but tonight’s about you?” You paw at his hips, unwilling to give in, leaning down to leave wet kisses on the length of him as he groans from somewhere deep in his throat. “Please?” You ask above the noise of Denki losing his mind at each touch of your lips.

“Fuck, princess. J-just a little, okay? Get me nice and wet before I fuck it into you?”

You feel proud, attractive even, when your tongue laps out to kitten lick at the swollen tip and he lets out a strangled noise. You swirl his precum around with your tongue, staring innocently at him while the flat of your tongue laps all the way down the thick vein running across his base.

“Holy shit,” he chokes, “You’re so hot.” You grin, wrapping your lips around the head. The warm, wet cavern of your mouth is a fucking trap. Denki has no idea how he’ll last. He’s too set on fucking you, but how, how the hell does he bring himself to stop this? You hum happily around his cock as you push him towards the back of your throat, moving your tongue around while you bob your head.

“Just like that, baby. Hnn- fuck,” the last word being drawn out in an ugly, honest whine. He’s loud and messy, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel, what he does and doesn’t like. Denki’s hips start to thrust into your mouth without his permission, moving on their own, but you can tell he’s still trying to control himself. When you spit in your hand and start massaging his balls, he reaches down with a stuttered hand.

“S-stop gotta’ stop so I can fuck you.” You give the head of him a slow, open-mouthed kiss like you’re telling it goodbye while you complain at him with sad eyes. He keeps himself from coming all over your face right there.

“Can I swallow some other time?” You beg in a raw, fucked voice. Jesus Christ. Denki grabs your face with both hands and pulls you into a sloppy kiss.

“I promise you,” sounding comically passionate about it. He cups your head for safety before flipping you roughly over onto the ground, hands groping the expanse of your ass in search of a skirt zipper. He pulls away first, appreciating how the twisted piece of clothing looks around your waist with no panties on, needy pussy on display for him. “As much as I love this,” he fidgets with the pleated edges of the skirt, “and I do love this– I wanna’ see all of you.” You’re lifting your hips for him to remove it. “Can we leave it on some other time?” His begging is so hot, so comforting, so empowering. “Promise you,” you echo him as he pulls at the band of your bra. When all your clothes are off he stops. He actually stops to stare. You have to tug at his shirt to make him realize you want him completely bare too. “You’re perfect, y/n. You’re so, so perfect.” You don’t say anything, too busy admiring his skin just as thoughtfully, sucking love marks into his collarbones. You feel his tip prod at your entrance and you shift your hips, trying to push him inside. He stills your movements though, holding you down. “Did you hear me? Tell me you’re perfect.” The meaning, the intent inside the demand is dizzying in its affection. You pull at his shoulders, hugging him into you, feeling his heartbeat through his chest. “’m perfect” you whisper. It’s fragile, but it’s trying, he can tell. Denki drags his dick along your folds, up and down, collecting your need while you shudder against him in anticipation.“Denki, plea– ah.” He slips inside, just a few inches, but you choke on your words, already drowning in the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Denki focuses on staying still, needing to know you’re okay first. “Y/n–” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Mhm” you hum, not caring what you’re answering to. You just want him already, taking him in further with a rise of your hips.

“Shit,” he snarls, “So, it’s like that?” He lets your pussy suck him in more as you whine into the skin of his neck. “Don’t care what I have to say anymore? long as I’m inside you?” He teases, well, tries his best to tease, but your cunt is the most distractingly perfect thing he’s ever felt in his life. You’re so warm, so wet, so heavenly.

“Knew you’d have the sweetest pussy.” Your walls tighten around him at the praise. “God, squeezing me like it’s trying to prove something.” Denki presses your shoulders down to the floor because he misses your face. You kiss away the sweat dripping from his temples, his forehead, the concentrated look on his face like he’s holding something back. He thinks you look fucking angelic, tending to him with your mouth while he maps you out for the first time.

“F-faster, please. Please fuck me.” He caves immediately, blessed with a little moan in his ear as he bottoms out, filling you to the hilt. “Denki.” With a voice as soft and sweet as the rest of you, begging with his name, for his dick, he’d probably do whatever you asked him to forever. When his tip kisses that spongy spot deep inside you he’s rewarded with a string of yeses and moans. He targets it like a mission, canting into you mercilessly so you’ll never stop making those sounds.

“C-can you be rough?” you look bashful at the request, “I won’t break.” A particularly hard jolt of his hips makes you yelp.

“Can I be rough?” He snickers, shaking his head. “You want that, babydoll?”

Denki sits up on his knees, grabs you by the waist, and pulls you into him, hard, shifting you so your ass remains on the ground but your calves hang loosely in the air. He places a gentle kiss to one of your shins. “Let me know if I answer that too clearly?” Oh. You blink up at him with need and some cute, dumb look of surprise on your face. Smart girl too fucked out, huh?

“Yes, Denki.” You squirm against him, needing the friction of him moving inside you again.

“Good girl,” he coos. Thumbs press into your hips, hands grabbing at your ass, pulling you up and into him. Denki starts a pace that soon has your torso sliding back and forth on the blanket as he fucks crudely into you. The bullying of his cock head into your G-spot over and over is making you see stars, feels sparks all over your skin.

“S’ so deep, Denki– ah!” He lifts your hips even higher in response, fucking you at an even deeper angle while he admires the lewd look on your face. So cute.

“Yeah, baby?” He grunts, lost in the vice grip of your perfect pussy, the squelch of how wet you are for him, “Am I making you feel good?”

You cry incoherently, gripping at the blankets with your fists. The bounce of your chest from the force of his canting into you looks absolutely pornographic.

“Look at me, y/n.” You try, you really do. Your head feels tingly and thoughtless and heavy in such a good, good way. You look so cute all wrecked under him, but still trying so hard to focus, to look at him like he asked you to. You meet his eyes with your forehead creased, lips wobbling, eyes all teary, and something in him snaps. Denki grabs you all over, hands everywhere; palms pressing at your knees to spread you out wider for him; grabbing your feet to move your legs, perching them over his thighs with your legs out long just to pick them up again, like he’ll die if he doesn’t have you in every way a man can from him knees. “Can’t believe anyone ever fuck– treated you like that.” He’s not sure you can even hear him with your eyes rolled back, mind lost to the merciless rocking of your body like a doll, pliant and bouncing in pleasure. “Chase this ass around constantly if you let me.” He spanks you, instantly addicted to the image it creates.

“D-denki. Oh!” you babble between hits. Soft palms and hard rings sting so nicely across the skin of your ass.

“Fuck you so often you wouldn’t even have time to worry if I found you attractive– hnng,” he moans as you squeeze around him from his words.

“Please, please” you mewl and his eyes light up.

“Oh, you’d like that?” Denki grabs your face, resting his forehead against yours, “Wanna’ be my pretty little cocksleeve all the time?” He’s squishing your cheeks together with one hand.

“Mmf, all the time” you return all muffled, nodding dizzily as your eyes roll back again.

Has he died and gone to heaven? He sighs, feeling you get impossibly tight around him again.

“I’m gonna’! I-I’m…”

“Gonna’ come for daddy?” He whispers in your ear, nipping at the earlobe and you come undone, holding onto him for dear life, shaking and seeing white.

“Fucking perfect,” he groans– and he means it. The way your pussy hugs him while you milk your orgasm is unfuckingreal, ethereal.

“You good, pretty girl?” Denki moves in to kiss along your jaw as you come down.

“S’ good” you slur out. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so focused on chasing his own high, caught up in your pussy pulsing around him. His dick is covered in your orgasms, and desperately hard.

“Think you can give me one more?” He kisses you messily, one hand in your hair.

“Can try, daddy.”

Denki growls. It’s quiet, but intoxicating, vibrating from somewhere hidden in his pretty, lean chest. Another thing you might not have expected from him. “Arms around my neck, babydoll.” He takes your weakened thighs and wraps them around his waist, hoisting you upwards into his lap. “C’mere. Wanna’ see that face.”

You’ve found a project Denki can pay attention to. He treats you like he’s playing a game almost, thrusting his hips at different speeds with varying forces, all just to watch your reactions, it seems. He searches your face the whole time without lenience. You can’t hide anything from those big, auburn eyes, wholly focused on you. It’s debauched how mindless you’re starting to feel, the weak pleas and senseless confirmations from your mouth as he commits to your deepest, most sensitive spots like he’ll never let you see straight again. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore if you tried. You let him do whatever he wants.

“Good cocksleeve,” he praises. You tug the hair at the base of his neck, eyes fluttering, taking him whatever way he drives into you. “Look at that. Already so good at your job, yeah?” Denki records it all to memory. Each time you crumple into his chest with quivering thighs, grabbing at nothing, looking for a respite he won’t give you; every loll of your head, eyelashes wet with your cute, overstimulated tears; every sound of his name, or string of slurred words that don’t even make sense, all dumb on his cock.

He won’t leave your breasts alone, finally having proper access to them in this position, one hand on your back and the other kneading them, roughly.

“Put those pretty tits in my mouth.” You’re no longer good for commands, the coil in your stomach winding itself tighter and tighter again, so he just does it himself. “Such a cute rack,” he murmurs mostly to himself. You rest your head against his, fingernails in his back. You feel too, too good bouncing on him, approaching another release.“‘m so close,” Denki admits and you nod, either in approval or mutual agreement or both. He stuffs two fingers in your mouth for you to drool all over before reaching down to rub at your puffy, abused clit, making you hiccup in pain and pleasure. “I’m gonna’ fill you up soon, okay?” He musters to ask, clenching his jaw.

“Yes, Denki,” you say so sweetly, “s’kay.” Your wanton voice of approval wanting him to come inside, the way your warm walls clamp down around him as you spiral into another orgasm, sends him over the edge.

“S-so tight, oh fuuck,” he whines, spilling into you. You move your hips as much as possible, bouncing lightly so you can work him through it, milking him like a good little sleeve, despite your exhaustion. “Dammit, y/n.” He struggles to catch his breath in your shoulder, fingers digging firmly into your sides, but they ease up as he comes down.

“Denki?” you whisper, but he just breathes. “Denki, wanna’ lay down.” You ask softly, kissing at the top of his ear, trying to pull him back to reality.

“Oh. Yeah, for sure.” He sounds so dazed, meaunvering you both slowly to the ground, on your sides, facing each other. He tucks your head into his chest, pulling one of your legs, sticky with his cum, to rest between his own. You stay like that for awhile, breathing, recovering, until he hears you mutter something worried into his chest.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” He’s quick to lift your face to his, “you okay?”

“Now you won’t focus in our study sessions, either.” You look genuinely concerned.

He bursts out in exhausted, satisfied laughter. “You might be as funny as me– almost.”

“So cocky, playboy.” You roll your eyes and he kisses the bridge of your nose. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“Wait ‘till I'm not dripping out of you,” he collects some with a swipe of his finger across your thigh, making you watch him slip it into his filthy mouth, “before you pretend not to like it."

--

Notes: Soo this was inspired by two things. One was the extensive convos I’ve had on dash mainly with Tas about how I think Deki kinnies Dominic Fike’s music. The vibes are just the same okay I just hc that. Actually just gonna’ link the playlist I made while writing this lol Denki would want that. It’s mostly just fun and all over the place, like him. Also, like a month ago when I was talking about MBTI personality type compatibility I found out Denki is actually the Bakusquad member I’m most compatible with and I just sat there like yo whaaaat and then I wrote this, therapeutically, about our favorite hypersexual boy. So, not that important, but if you’re an INFJ then uh, here’s your ENTP man you deserve him shut up yes you do he is so very thoughtful give him a chance.

[hawksugarbaby]

I want enji todoroki to ruin my insides

[hawksugarbaby]

Credit to @bunzwrld for this masterpiece.

◯ maisie’s note to you . . . this is rlly jus two thousand words of me tryin to see if i can write katsuki so :D m gna label this as ooc kats ! nnnn there’s rlly no warnings aside from semi public sex n squirting . this was loosely edited ☹️ also da ending is kinda abrupt cuz Prbt ! brain fart so 🧸 jus have dis please . minors do not interact !

“jesus fuckin’ . . . . christ.”

katsuki wouldn’t categorize himself to be a perfectionist. he doesn’t attach his worth to his performances and achievements, he doesn’t have a fear of not being liked by others, and he’ll admit that he has his lazy days — fuck it, sometimes he doesn’t want to spend an entire day writing a paper, studying for an exam, and, or rather, because of being on the university’s football team, watching his calorie intake in fear of gaining a pound or two. so fucking what? 

but with you . . . you bring out something . . carnal within him; something so all-consuming and depraved that it makes his balled fists tremble with frustration at the simple, mere thought.

he wants to be perfect for you and he doesn’t, for a god damn fucking second, understand why. he doesn’t want to make you angry, make you upset, leave you unsatisfied — thinks something inside of his brain would click and blow his head into a billion chunks if either were to happen.

but when it happens — when he doesn’t communicate over text and leaves you silently frothing with irritation upon him seeing you in person again, when he sometimes, unintentionally ( always, always unintentionally ) scowls out a sarcastic comment even while knowing how soft and sensitive you are, knowing that things like that hurts your feelings and makes you bury yourself away from him — katsuki wants to plain out, fucking die.

miscommunication is inevitable, arguments are inevitable, that, he knows. 

however, leaving you unsatisfied? that shouldn’t be too common, yet it is.

katsuki doesn’t know when he noticed — when he noticed that you had been faking your orgasms for almost the entire two years you two have been together. he thinks it had to be sometime during his spring break visit to your university whose location was pinpointed in the next city beside his.

sophomore year, it would’ve been the first time he’s seen you again since the christmas before and he’ll be honest about this, of course he will . . . he’s missed you.

you had opened the door to your dorm with the most enchanting smile on your face, dressed in nothing but the cherry red football jersey he had sent you two months back, with the number your birthday fell upon sewn on the back in white, jumped up into his arms, uncaring about the two, massive duffel bags he had been carrying on each shoulder and kissed him.

and it was this specific way you kissed him — your soft, dainty hands cupping his face as you dipped your head to the side. your tongue attained his without a moment’s delay, tangling, weaving, and sucking. warm, soft, and tasting of sweet, artificial watermelon. katsuki emitted a small grunt of firm ardor, blindly walked further inside of your room to spare your gawking RA the show, and kicked it shut without another second wasted.

“oh god,” you had panted quietly into the cusp of his neck, with your entire body holding onto his — legs around his waist and arms locked around his neck approximately seventeen minutes later. “oh . . . g-god — ‘suki.”

he claps a large, rough paw over the round cheek of your ass, pulling your pelvis closer as he ruts himself deep inside of your dripping, little cunt, needing more, more, more. 

he could tell that you clearly had been thinking about this since the last time you saw one another, because you were needy. it showed in how your back arched to push your tits into his hard chest for closer contact, how you tangled your legs around his as if refusing to let him go, how you slipped and slid your hands within the tufts of his soft, blond hair to gently pet when katsuki took a moment to slow down. 

he hummed — rocking and pulling his hips back and forth, knowing he was going to cum from that, from just the feel of your soft hands sliding up the muscled plane of his back, to his neck as your lips glided against his. quietly, he gulped on a gruff murmur, “y’gonna cum with me?”

you nodded with your pretty lips popped open and eyes hazed over with nothing but adoration and want for the man on top of you, “uh huh.”

when you clenched down on him, katsuki couldn’t help but wince — felt too good, makes a cold shudder run down the length of his spine to his toes, “yeah?” he exhaled. “do it then. cum with me.”

folded up, pinned down, and battered into, katsuki could feel you clamping down on his cock again through the throes of his own orgasm but there wasn’t any . . gasps from you — weren’t any shivers, whimpers, wetness. he had been faintly panting upon pulling his face from the crook of your neck, eyebrows dipped low, and eyes staring straight down into yours with meager skepticism. “. . . fuck was that?”

you had been wide eyed and quiet, letting his question linger in the air for a couple seconds before you answered with a gentle, “what was what?”

katsuki let the wet popping sound of his cock being freed from your pussy answer for him. he watched it gape for a moment or two, then let his eyes flick between your own and that little clit a couple times, “. . you didn’t cum.”

“i did.”

“nah, you didn’t,” he was quick with an answer as he shook his head and let his tongue rub against the interior of his cheek. it hadn’t made any fucking sense . . . he’s made you cum before . . he thinks, a couple times. a couple times? thinks? it all seems to hit him like a fucking truckload. “oh, fuck.”

you watched his lip scowl as his hands pulled away from your body as if they’d scar granted that he touched you for even a second longer — your body followed his like a magnet when he suddenly let his feet fall onto the floor so that he can stand and quickly slip on his briefs. “ ‘suki, stop. relax—��

“—all this fuckin’ time?”

you were pouting when you whispered, “you’ve made me cum before.”

he hadn’t believed you. it showed on his face when he gave you a sarcastic side eye from over his shoulder as his lips pursed, “yeah? when? fuckin’ when? why haven't you told me this shit? all this time i’ve been—“

“that time in your car a couple months ago,” you were meek and quiet, thumbing with your fingers in your lap as you listed. “our third time together after you took my virginity, that time after you won a game last year, and last christmas . . . at your mom’s house.”

katsuki’s eyebrows had gathered in close as he stared at you for a couple seconds. you had listed off the times without a second’s hesitation — you were sure. and he’s positive that this only meant that you’ve thought about it already.

humiliation scalded deep within his chest as he felt his ears begin to burn.

“but - but you always make me feel good, baby. honestly, really.” you had to stand up, in all of your naked glory to wrap your arms around his waist to keep him from trying to slip away again. “i don’t know. i think . . . i think it’s me. it’s hard for me to cum on my own sometimes too, so i don’t want you to think that—“

“—shut . .” he gathered your pretty face in the palm of his hand then squeezed to make your lips pucker. “the fuck . . up.”

and katsuki realizes, since then, he’s been on a bit of his own, personal mission. which leaves you both now here, lodged together in the tiny bathroom at one of your mutual friend’s kickback. it had only been about twelve to fifteen of you guys in the house and katsuki knows that after only the two of you being gone for so long, someone is going to put two and two together, however, he’s been trying really, really hard to find one, but he just doesn’t give a fuck.

because you’re dressed . . in this tiny, fucking skirt and a long sleeved, cropped top with a zipper on its front. since the both have gotten here, he’s been curiously eyeing you, wanting to know if that zipper was just for decoration or use. if he pulled it down with his fingers, would your tits spill and bounce as they recoil from being freed from the tight elastic?

“oh my god.”

he’s eager — it shows in the way how he has you bent up on the little sink, ass hanging off the ledge, back of your knees held within his hands with your panties hanging from an ankle and shirt askew. 

he fucks you hard, thick brows dipped in close and the bottom hemming of the hoodie he wears clutched between the rows of his pretty, white teeth. “give it here,” he murmurs around the fabric as eyes of darkened, ruby red glare into yours. “give it to me . . give me this fuckin’ pussy.”

your little cunt squeezes and pulses out a shot of cream at his words. you’re holding on tight to the edge of the sink as the back of your head pushes up against the mirror behind you, “ ‘s-suki—“ you’re trying to be quiet, you’re trying to keep from gasping too hard and squeaking too loud, but he’s making it hard.

he doesn’t care. your skin meeting his is overpowering — anyone walking past the door would be able to hear it and you reach out a hand to push his hips back, hoping he’d get the hint but he only fucks you harder which makes you choke on a cute sob. 

“jus’ . . let me,” he lets one of your legs go after throwing it over the solid hill of his shoulder, licks his fingers then presses them against the chubby bulb of your clit. “lemme make you fuckin’ feel good — q-quit, fuck, bein’ stubborn.”

he wants to make you cum. he knows you’re close — you always get close but that’s never enough. not for you, and surely not for him neither. pill vials and bottles of medicine rattle and shake within the mirrored cabinet behind your head as the sink lightly creaks and grits with each inward pound of katsuki’s cock pushing deep inside of your soaking pussy. 

and as the two of his fingers circle and rub your clit, something seems to ignite within you. something that has your voice clogging up the tunnel of your throat and your thighs fighting to snap closed around his wrist. 

“y’close?”

you can’t form a word, but you find it within yourself to give a little nod at his question. 

katsuki knows not to change his rhythm. he sees your eyes roll back, sees your body start to tense — but his knees bend a little and suddenly, you’re squeaking and shooting your hands out to dig the sharp ends of your acrylics into the muscled lines of his forearms. “right there,” you’re crying. shiny pearls of tears drip out of your closed eyes and down the chubby meat of your cheeks as your legs tremble. “oh g-god, rightthererightthere.”

and so he keeps himself there, keeps his knees hooked with just the tiniest bend so that the thick mushroom of his cockhead could meet the sensitive, little cake of your g spot beat for beat. “oh, f-fuck.”

katsuki doesn’t think he’s ever seen you feel so good in his life. your eyes are closed and your mouth is agape, but not a sound leaves you. it’s like you’re on an entirely new dimension. 

he’s going to cum, in spite of that, he knows to keep going. keep going, keep going.

and your eyebrows slowly start to gather as your body begins to tense. 

“jesus . . fuckin’—“ you’re clamping down on him again, anchoring his dick inside the tight cavern on your core. “c’mon, give it here . . cum on it, baby.”

and you do.

and it’s a fucking mess. the second a jet of your release squirts out from around katsuki’s cock, he’s right behind you — slamming his hips into the meat of your ass with each shot that emits from his head. his hands are trembling where they grip onto your waist. “god, yes. yesyesyes — f-fuckin ‘ yes.”

[hawksugarbaby]

Medusa tattoos!

TW S/A

(Yes I have experienced sexual assault. Read this full thing before leaving any negative comments please)

Medusa tattoos are swimming with deeper meaning and for many people who have experienced sexual assault and rape she is a symbol to a whole community of victims and this symbol is important and valid. I am not here to tell you not to get a tattoo of Medusa.

What I do just want to say (and I do hope this doesn't come across as offensive and please god tell me if anyone is hurt by this post and share your thoughts with me) is that medusa is a mythological figure with 2 different origin stories and we shouldn't disallow anyone to get a medusa tattoo if they haven't experienced sexual assault.

I say this because people have argued with me and tried to gatekeep? (I think thats the right word) medusa tattoos because I included a medusa tattoo in my kirishima x tattoo artist reader smut chapter.

Yes, in Ovids version of the story, Medusa was once beautiful and then was raped in a temple of Athena which Athena took offence to and cursed medusa to look ugly and have snakes for hair.

But in Hesiods origins of Medusa, she was born as a gorgon and had 3 sisters! The theogony was written first in the BC era and ovids metamorphosis in AD so she did already have clear origins as a gorgon sister but thats less relevant to the point I'm making

The point I'm making is we can't claim an individual or a symbol to belong to a single group of people. I think medusa can be viewed as a strong, empowering woman in either version of the story, she is demanding and domineering and she is powerful and feared and anyone should be allowed to get a tattoo of medusa no matter what they have experienced and what they choose to see her representing.

But we have to make sure we still recognise she is a figure for Victims of sexual assault and not completely undermine that. Medusa has multiple origins, one of those origins do tie her with a whole community of people, of victims especially, and we have to continue to recognise that. But she's a mythological figure and it almost feels wrong to claim no one else can use her.

I want a medusa tattoo, because she is a badass and she is empowering and I too have looks that kill (Badum tsss) but I'm almost afraid to get one now because I worry if it would hurt another group of people.

Again none of this is supposed to be harmful and please tell me any thoughts you have or if you have anything You think I should be more educated on please tell me because Id rather educate myself and look stupid than remain ignorant.

[hawksugarbaby]

Im back bitches

Please clap

[hawksugarbaby]

Izuku x Gn!reader- Philosophy on a yoga mat

Fluff

"Have you heard Plato's allegory of the cave?" You ask the hero in training and he frowns while kicking a punching bag. Picking Izuku's brain about philosophy was the best way to entertain yourself while you were stretching after a workout.

"Didn't we talk about plato last time?" he asked and chose to lean on the punching bag and listen rather than try to pay attention to you shouting over the sounds of his steel shoes colliding with the sand filled sack. The new question was how long could you talk for before he needed to sit down. You were still happily squatting while you spoke.

"We did but we didn't speak about his allegory of the cave. Just wondered if you'd done any homework since last time"

"Oh I see, do you want me to take notes this time?" he grins cheekily and you roll your eyes. At least he can take a joke now. In your first year he would have had a heart attack if you joked about homework.

"Basically Plato had this theory that there was a world where everything is perfect or something like that. Like every cat in the world has cat-ness but it is not the perfect cat and in this other world the perfect cat exists. Same for trees, books, literally everything"

"Wait but is there a perfect cat in general or does every breed of cat have a perfect breed?" The one thing that never changed about Izuku was how many questions he had. Always buzzing with thoughts and theories. He was probably the reason you talked for so long.

"He doesn't specify. Anyway to explain this better he created the allegory of the cave" you sat on the floor bored of your squat and got yourself comfy before you continued. "Basically the story is that a bunch of people are tied up facing the back wall of the cave and the back wall is illuminated by either a fire or the sun, it depends on the version, and every so often someone will go past and hold up an everyday object like an apple, and the ones who are tied up will see the shadow of the apple right? And the prisoners think this is reality because they know nothing else"

"Why don't the people walking past just show them the apple? Why are they tied up in the first place? Did they do something wrong or are they just there?"

"They've been there since birth and if the people show them what an apple looks like it ruins the experiment. Also Izuku please let me remind you these things didn't actually happen and no one was tied up for the sake of philosophy... well... anyway it doesn't matter"

Izuku finally sat. He wasn't uncomfortable or sore with standing but now that you were talking about shadows he was paying too much attention to how much his large shadow engulfed you. He was quite literally looming over you and it felt strange seeing your face without the fluorescent gym lights brightening you up.

"So eventually, one dude lets say his name is Chad, Chad gets out of his ropes and he goes outside and the sun is bright and it hurts his eyes and instead of going outside and experiencing the world, he goes back into the cave-"

Izuku's forest eyes widen and he leans forward. "Wait, what? Why? Chad what the hell are you doing my guy?"

"Well if you hadn't interrupted me I was about to say to free the rest of the prisoners because he sees the outside world is more real than the life in the cave" you huff and he chuckles and apologizes. "It's fine. But the prisoner is immediately blinded because his eyes never had time to become accustomed to the light. The rest of the prisoners see this blindness and assume they will be harmed if they were to leave"

He hums and scoots closer towards you as if a closer presence would help him find the right way to process and understand the story "I don't get it"

"It's because your brain is so small" you smirk and flick his forehead which gains no reaction whatsoever and what's worse is your finger probably hurts more than his forehead.

"But no seriously, what is the point in the allegory?"

"Ok so the shadows are the imperfect versions of things we see like the cat or tree. The outside is the perfect world of forms Plato talks about. Plato says the world of forms is basically the world of thought, perfection can only be perceived in our thoughts and everything else is just a copy"

"Then why does the guy get hurt?"

"I dunno. I've never understood why the guy gets hurt or they don't go outside. Probably something to do with expectations though and how is beauty subjective?"

Izuku chuckles and stands back up pulling you with him so you'll be encouraged to shower and change rather than just lounge about in your sweaty gym clothes all day "you know what I think?"

"Not a lot?"

"Ouch"

You loop your arm with his and laugh "I'm kidding what do you think"

"You are the perfect version of you"

You let go and swing round the wall to the showers shaking your head "cringe" he laughs and even though he's cheesy and corny and you'll have to explain everything to him again later, he still always makes you smile.

⊹ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳. ⊹ ⊹ .˳⁺⁎˚ ꒰ఎ ☆ ໒꒱ ˚⁎⁺˳. ⊹  ⊹ .˳⁺⁎˚  ⊹ ⊹ .˳⁺⁎ 

Read more here!

[hawksugarbaby]

Thank you 😭 I always feel bad when I only write 2k words but this is special.

Fic authors deserve more credit.

Story time: I started a book about 23 hours ago and just finished it. Also in that time I slept for 10 hours, spent time with family, was at work, etc. Anyway, I enjoyed the book (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda). But it felt like it flew by, so after I finished I looked up the word count because what are pages? Pages are meaningless. I only function in word counts anymore.

The estimate I found was 58,580. My immediate reaction was “oh, that’s why. That’s nothing!” But what a shitty response. Because no. That’s not nothing. That’s a whole. Damn. Book. An entire novel! And Fic authors regularly bust out 30k, 50k, 100k, 150k words. AND THEY DO IT FOR FREE. WHILE WORKING AND LIVING THEIR LIVES.

So anyway, thank your favorite fic author today because they deserve it. Because they’re amazing. They’re the MVPs.

[hawksugarbaby]

Dear fanfic writers for readers who are POC, I have a question.

Im white. Am I allowed to read your works?

Sincerely, Pebble.

[hawksugarbaby]

Sub kiri is just 😩

Masterpiece was written by @pervysenpaix

Friends ... Have you ever thought about TechSupport!Kirishima, that's too fucking hot to be a computer nerd? Like you were completely taken aback when you saw his massive cock muscles. And like-wouldn't it be even crazier if y/n was kinda idk .... pervy 🥴

18+NSFW|MDNI tw!AgedUp, dubcon?, pervyfem!reader, use of "spunk"😍, pussy drunk Kirishima, breeding, overstimulation, spitting, Kiri is a good boy

Imagine spending hours researching and compiling data for a report that’s due in the morning and just when you’re about to submit it into the database, the screen goes blank. You’ve literally been staring at a screen for hours. Crunching numbers and gathering evidence just for all your hard work to disappear.

What do you even feel in this moment? Nausea? Dread? Disappointment?

Anger.

Pure unadulterated anger that has you screaming at your monitor and throwing your stapler against the wall—which leaves at not-so-subtle hole that would definitely be coming out of your paycheck.

If I even still have a job in the morning.

Irritation bubbles underneath your skin in a way that has you fidgeting in your seat. Manicured fingers tap against the mahogany wood of your desk and the foot of your Louboutin pump digs into the carpet. Being the youngest executive at such an elite firm led to an overwhelming amount of pressure. Not to mention being the only woman on the board—that presented difficulties in itself. It’s like your male peers were just waiting for you to fuck up. Just prove yourself as the incompetent bimbo that’s no more than in office eye candy. Fuck—they were gonna have a field day with this.

You stared at the blank screen in utter defeat, thinking of how you’ll walk out of the boardroom carrying a box filled with office supplies and snacks in a dignified manner. Then, it hit you—a potential solution to your problem. The computer nerds in the IT department!

You nearly broke a nail lunging for your cellphone and placing the emergency order. The disinterested voice claiming to send someone “soon” had you a bit worried, but to your surprise there was a knock on your door five minutes later.

“Come in!” You chirped hopefully, praying that this scrawny little—

Wait a minute.

Is there a football tryout or something that you didn’t know about ?

“Hi there, I’m Kirishima. Nice to meet you. I hear you’re having some trouble with your laptop?”

Your jaw hit the floor when the 6’6 giant crouched over the threshold and into your office because there’s no way that this big brute of a man was some tech savant.

Well—brute might not be the right word. This guy had the sunniest disposition. Bright red hair pulled into a low ponytail. Radiant ruby eyes with flecks of blue that shimmered against the fluorescent lights. A gentle voice that was deep yet calming. And his smile–sharp pointy teeth that were perfectly aligned and sparkling white, framed by the plushest set of pink lips that you’ve ever seen. So, brute might not be the best word to describe this guy. At least not from the neck up. But from the neck down…

Well, that was a different story.

The man was MASSIVE. Everything about him was big. And I do mean everything. That thin light blue polo and tight khaki slacks held little to the imagination. The fabric was stretched so tight over the expanse of muscle it looked as if it was painted on. To make matters worse, you could make out the faintest lines of black ink peaking underneath his sleeve and slightly above his collar hinting at some ornate chest plate that made him impossibly more desirable.

“You work in IT?” Kirishima winced at the accusatory tone and scratched the back of his head. “Heh-yeah. I know I’m a little young. I just started today but I promise I can get the job done!” He chuckled nervously, completely oblivious to the fact that you weren’t confused by his age. Hell—he looked to be about the same age of you and you’d never discriminate on someone based on their age. Or anything at all for that matter. It just that—he’s so hot.

Oh fuck, well now I’m no better than the assholes I work with.

“No. No. I was just a little taken aback is all.” You threw your hands up and smiled, which made him visibly relax, “I’m sure you’ll do fine. I’m kind of counting on it”. Kirishima nodded with a bright smile plastered on his face and headed towards your workstation.

The redhead had the issue resolved in a matter of minutes. Saving you from corporate humiliation and help wanted ads. You were so happy you could kiss him—which is exactly what you said and turned him into a flustered mess. “I- Me- No- that’s just my job!” His voice cracked and he flushed a deeper shade of red that crawled up his neck and covered his cheeks and ears. He was so embarrassed. Is blushing considered manly? But what man in their right mind wouldn’t get nervous around such a gorgeous woman.

Everything about you was perfect. First and foremost, you were this powerful exec who had to be some sort of genius because there’s no way that you were older than him. Then all the other stuff. Beautiful face. Angelic voice. Sweet laugh. Kind smile. A plush body that looked so soft—

“Kirishima?” your bubbly voice yanked him from his brief, and slightly inappropriate, departure from reality. It’s not okay for him to think of his higher ups like that. No matter how sweet your perfume smells or how tiny you are compared to him. He just got this job and there’s no way he could fuck it up by being unprofessional. So, he cleared his throat and said his goodbyes. Hoping to keep his interactions with you to a minimum, lest he be tempted…

But you had other plans.

You see it’s hard being a successful businesswoman and finding a guy that checks all your boxes. The guys you worked with were all arrogant assholes who made jokes about you being their housewife. But Kirishima was so different! He revered you and always treated you with the upmost respect. A perfect gentleman that never stepped out of line no matter how hard you pushed him.

All those urgent calls that you sent in requesting him specifically because “he was such a good worker”. When actually all you wanted was to watch his red brows furrow when he scratched his head trying to figure out how you managed to get 17 different malware prompts that each lead to some dead end. Little did he know, you asked your best friend Mina to send some codes your way that would give you a chance to ogle the redhead cutie. Pushing up against him while you peered over his shoulder and pretended to be interested in how he was fixing something you’d purposely broken.

It was fun too.

He always got so nervous and flustered. He’d avert his eyes and not so discreetly adjust himself when your soft breasts pushed against his skin. Sometimes he’d audibly gulp when you’d run your French tipped nails down his toned arm. His attraction was obvious, but he never made any moves. So, one day you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Wow—I’ve never seen anything like this. Your motherboard is completely fried. We might need to get you a whole new set up”. A theatrical gasp sounded from your chest. “Oh no, That’s awful!” You exclaimed, as if you didn’t disassemble the whole thing and drench it in iced coffee before you called him over. “Yeah—he shook his head, “but it’s not too big of a deal. I’ll just run over to the tech department grab everything”. You hummed, biting your lip, and chewing on the tip of a pen in a way that shouldn’t have made his pants tight. God—he hoped you didn’t notice, but of course you did.

“Hey, Kirishima… Why don’t I come with you? I can help you carry everything”. His eyes widened comically, completely taken aback at the thought of your tiny self lifting more than a finger. “Oh no! It’s fine. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt”. You pouted, fingers twirling around a tendril of hair and took a step closer to him, so that the two of you were standing chest to chest. “Well at least let me keep you company”.

The wet squelching of your sopping cunt reverberated off the walls lewdly paired by your sultry moans and Kirishima’s muffled grunts. Saliva spilled between your fingers from where your hand was pressed against his mouth that hung open in ecstasy. Big hands found purchase on the globes of your ass, not so much guiding—more like holding on for dear life while rode his dick. Bodies pressed together like the pieces of a puzzle in the cramped space of the equipment room.

Vermillion stands fell freely against his tanned skin and clung to the sweat beading against his flesh. Slowly—you whined your waist, drawing circles against the meaty cock that was bruising your cervix. A shudder ran down the redhead’s spine and his hips spasmed up into your heat, making your core clench around him. Slick saturated his thighs, pooling in the tufts of curly black pubes nestled above his engorged balls.

Leaning back slightly—you rolled your hips at a new angle that pushed and pulled Kirishima’s dick simultaneously. He whimpered loudly against your hand. Too pussy drunk to care about getting caught fucking his superior in the middle of the day. “Shh-“ you cooed, tightening the hand against his mouth. “You have to be quiet, baby. You can be a good boy for me, yeah?”. He nodded immediately, fighting the intense urge to scream your name because he was so willing to prove his obedience. Be your good boy. You chuckled, cunt spasming at the desperation in his red eyes. You’d never felt so desired. The way Kirishima gazed upon your face made you feel like some masterfully crafted work of art. It was like you were the only girl in the world. The only thing that mattered to him was your beautiful face and angelic cunt, milking his balls dry and bouncing on his dick to the point of overstimulation.

Tears fell from his eyes and his heart beat in time with each wet slap of your cunt. Even though your pussy was so filled with spunk that it dribbled down your legs—you never stopped bouncing. Cupping his balls with your free hand to squeeze him dry. You moved your hand just in time to hear his pornographic moan as his hips stuttered, shooting blanks into your gushy center.

He looked so pretty. Eyes rolled to the back of his head and mouth hung open with drool on the sides. Never one to miss out on a great opportunity—you leaned forward and slowly dribbled saliva down his throat, which he swallowed hungrily. It was enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Moaning and whispering words of praise while Kirishima whined and whimpered your name.

You clung to one another for what felt like hours before the red head broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“So umm—would you like to maybe go on a date?”

Taglist| @xogabbiexo, @yo-nn, @plussizeficchick, @bookwormsenpai,@tenyaiidasslut, @dabilovesme, @erenyeagerswhore, @tsukihime25, @nasty-quillz, @namjoonswifeyy, @7inaa, @m00nchildthings, @blkchxrryblyss, @38riku

If you don't want to be tagged, dm me and i'll remove you.

[hawksugarbaby]

pro hero!bakugou x f!reader

summary - PORN WITH SOME PLOT - hurt comfort smut, bakugou agrees to help deku fufill a long daydreamed about fantasy with his girlfriend, ends up with far more than he bargained for when he realizes, not only are you clearly emotionally unfulfilled in your current relationship, but that he might be catching feelings for his friends girlfriend. all characters pro heroes, reader is a civilian. has breasts that bounce. could be part one.

warnings - deku wants to do consensual n/n c/nsent with his gf - but he wants to be tied up and watch while bakugou does it. all parties involved consent, bakugou is p responsible, safewords are in place, the scene is EXTREMELY consensual. TW for emotional neglect/manipulation(deku is not a good boyfriend, but in his defense it’s really hard to be #1 most powerful being and conceptualize other people in a complex way), sub drop but not hardcore(reader), emotional infidelity, choking spitting, face fucking, bondage, knifeplay if you squint, cucking, medium hard degradation and praise. mention of collar. cumplay. dynamight official lingerie.

MINORS DNI - YOU MUST HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO TO INTERACT WIHT THIS POST

a/n - repost from my old tumblr <3 happy birthday to kats.

wc ~7k

You touch your neck self consciously as the blonde pro hero towers over you. He narrows his eyes at you for a moment, but you, you he could deal with in good time, he instead turns to his childhood friend.

“You sure you want this?” Bakugou says in a low growl. “I got rules.” You watch your boyfriend shift his weight a bit.

“What ah, what are your rules?” Midoriya begins to fidget nervously. He was inches away from realizing a fantasy that had tortured him for months. Bakugou holds up a finger.

“One, safeword,” he turns to you. “I’m gonna gag him if he talks too much, and he’s gonna talk too much, so this is for you, you done the colors thing before? Red means stop, yellow means slow down, green means more.” You nod.

“I’m um, yeah I’ve used those before.” Midoriya looks at you sharply, and Bakugou files the interaction away in his head.

“Rule two. You wear quirk shit. I’ve got some but I don’t feel like getting tackled out your apartment window because you change your mind halfway through when you see your girlfriend cum on my cock.” Midoriya swallows.

“Yeah, um, I expected as much, I think.”

“You got any rules?” He turns to you, but Midoriya pipes up.

“Actually um, I would prefer if you didn’t cum, y’know, in her.” Bakugou blinks at his childhood friend, face unreadable. “She’s uh, she’s on birth control but um, I’d like to save that just for me.” Bakugou nods, turning back to you.

“Anything from you?”

“Um actually,” Midoriya taps on his arm, and Bakugou nearly blows a gasket, “I uh, I was thinking, if you could try not to leave any um, marks and stuff, that would be cool.” The blond rolls his eyes.

“No promises.” Your mouth is dry. “Anything from your fuckin’ girlfriend, jesus christ Deku you oughtta let her talk more.” You find your voice.

“Um do you ever, use your um, quirk, when you-”

“Yeah.” He says. “I can, you know, not.” You swallow and rock up onto your tiptoes.

“No um, could I just, could I feel it, first, so I know what to expect?” He nods.

“Hold out your hands.” You turn to him, palms up, and he slaps one of his huge hands down on both of yours, it’s hot, just enough to sting, but not unbearable.

“Oh, fuck,” you let out a soft moan, it’s louder than you mean, though and you feel your face warm. “That’s um, it’s fine. That’s fine.” He smirks. “I um, last thing,” he waits patiently but you turn to your boyfriend. “You’re not allowed to be mad at me. This was your idea.”

“Of course I won’t be!” Deku protests, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. “I asked for this, and you’re the best girlfriend in the world for giving it to me.” Bakugou rolls his eyes.

“I won’t let him get snippy with ya sweetheart, come on,” He grins, “Help me tie him down, huh?” It takes a few minutes, but Bakugou is slow and methodical, testing the quirk bracer a few times. “Alright, try and get out, and I’ll remind you that it’s in your best interest to tell me if there’s any way you could get out.” Midoriya tests his bonds a little, and points to his left ankle, which Bakugou secures more, before attaching the chair he’s tied to to the radiator. “You bust outta this you’re gonna lose your security deposit.” Midoriya nods.

“Noted.” He looks at you quickly. “Hey,” he smiles, “Love you.” Bakugou watches carefully as the words seem to hit you hard, you balk a little, chewing on your lower lip.

“Love you too.” You say, with a soft, fake smile. Bakugou rolls his eyes, and jerks his head towards the hallway.

“The fuck is happening?” He says in a low growl when you’re out of earshot. “Do you actually want to do this, because we can just watch a movie and leave him like that all night.” You shiver.

“I do, um,” you whisper, “Want to.” He nods.

“Then what’s up?”

“That’s um,” you close your eyes, “The first time he’s said he loved me in a month.” Bakugou blinks a couple times.

“Huh.” He inspects you carefully. “When’s uh, when’s the last time you fucked?”

“Two weeks.” You whisper, with a nervous glance over your shoulder, and Bakugou can’t help the evil smile that spreads across his face.

“So you’re hurtin’ for it.”

“Shut up!” You punch him in the shoulder and then rear back, clutching your fist. “What the fuck are you made of?” You hiss and his smirk only widens.

“Real muscle, sweetheart.” He pats you on the shoulder. “Seriously, you don’t have to do shit to prove to that loser. Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” You swallow and your eyes flick up to his face.

“No I do, I want to.” You pause. “So I’m gonna fight you?” He shrugs, and then stretches.

“You’re gonna try.” You nod slowly and then look down at your clothes.

“Is this okay, it’s not like, lingerie.” He nods.

“Yeah, it’s fine, for cnc, anyway. Sure it would ruin the fantasy for Deku if you wore

lingerie for me.” He reaches out and tucks your hair behind your hear. “Limits?”

“Uh, soft on piss, hard on scat.”

“Cool.”

“What about you?” You ask, and he thinks about it.

“Normally I’d say keep your nails away from my cock but you’re such a sweet little thing, aintcha,” He straightens up, “So I’ll say you’re welcome to try and hurt me.” You nod and he furrows his brow. “Sure you don’t wanna go in there and get a couple hits on him while he’s helpless?” You laugh and Bakugou shakes his head, “If anyone ever interrupted me like that I’d lose my shit.”

“Guess we’re different people.” He nods, and reaches into his backpack, then hesitates.

“Wait uh, just dig around in there and tell me if there’s anything that freaks you out.” You open it, rope, duck tape, zip ties, a small knife, vibrator, something clear and silicon that you don’t recognize, a medium sized dildo, condoms, handcuffs, lotion, washcloths, and makeup wipes.

“This is all fine.” He stops, hesitating one last time.

“I’m not gonna listen,” he growls, “If you say, no, or stop, or it hurts.” You nod. “Just the safewords, I mean obviously I’m not a fuckin’ moron, and I’ll check in alright?”

“I think you’re nervous.” You say, sticking your chin out the tiniest bit and that seems to reassure him a bit because with a low grunt, he picks you up, right over his huge shoulder, and takes his backpack in the other hand.

“Shut the fuck up.” He snaps, and carries you quickly into your bedroom with just a few long strides. He throws you down on the bed, and you attempt to squirm away, but he’s too quick for you, kissing you hard and clumsily, it’s all teeth, and tongue, and passion. Your little fists are nothing against his body, and for a moment, when you gasp for air between kisses you wonder if it might be genuinely hurting you more than it’s hurting him. He rips your shirt and sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your breast, you yelp with pain immediately, trying to get away from him, wriggling wildly but he slaps you lightly across the face. “I said shut the fuck up.” But you notice he’s pushed your attention back to your boyfriend, who is squirming in the chair he’s tied to, and you make eye contact with him just as Bakugou grinds a muscled thigh between your legs. A low waton noise escapes you and Bakugou laughs cruelly.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, looking at Midoriya.

“That’s it,” Bakugou snarls, “Tell ‘im how sorry you fucking are, for lovin this so much.”

“I don’t,” you counter, looking back at the blonde, who slaps you again, this time a little harder, and tears burn in your eyes as he rips the rest of your clothing off, tugging his shirt over his head, “I don’t love it,” you say again more boldly, bracing for the third slap, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he leans down, and cups your face very gently, and you’re so surprised you stop fighting.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, princess.” He spits the pet name like an insult. “You’re gonna behave,” and he licks up the side of your face, it’s wet and sticky and gross, you screw your face up, trying to move away from him but for the first time he restrains you, holding both of your wrists above your head, “Or I’m gonna hurt ya, fuckin’ understand?” You open your mouth to retort but he presses his knee against your sex, hard and instead you gasp with pleasure.

“Fuck,” Midoriya breathes, and for a second, your attention is back on him, your boyfriend, straining against his bonds, an obvious tent forming in his pants. Bakugou takes the opportunity to slip out of his pants and boxers, kicking them away on the floor and grabbing the rope from his bag. You scoot across the bed but you’re no match for him, even if you finally get a good kick in on his chest, he loops it around your wrists and pulls it taught quickly, securing you to the metal headboard. He takes the knife from his backpack and slices through the center of your bra, and through the side of your panties, ripping both of them off of you.

You keep kicking and he takes a moment to marvel at the gentle sloping curve of your waist into your hips, of the way your breasts bounce when you struggle.

“Alright,” he says, yanking your foot to one side as he ties each ankle to a different corner of the bed, you catch him in the face with a well timed kick and he winces. “Stupid fuckin’ cunt,” he says angrily, tightening the bonds.

“Don’t call her that!” Midoriya says, aghast, and Bakugou turns his attention to your boyfriend with an evil grin, leaving you squirming and whimpering on the bed. You test the ropes but the knots are perfect, just tight enough to be uncomfortable. “Don’t, Kacchan, don’t-” Bakugou picks up your panties and shoves them delicately in Midoryas mouth before patting a piece of duct tape over it. Midoriya screams against the gag, fighting now in earnest, the tent in his pants even larger as Bakugou swaggers back over to the bed where your nipples are standing at attention in the cold of the bedroom.

“Look at these,” he says in a low rasp, palming your breasts, gently at first and then squeezing them harder, pinching your nipples in tandem, eliciting a bright, sharp cry from your lips. “Does that hurt, bitch?” He snarls, pulling harder as you keep struggling, refusing to look at him, so he grabs your jaw, and leans down to speak directly into your ear. “I asked you, a fuckin’ question, bitch.” He draws a hand back and slaps your chest hard.

“Yes,” you gasp, and he grins, watching the beginning of tears form in your eyes, making his cock twitch. “Yes, it hurts.” He hits your chest again, enjoying the soft give under his rough calloused hands, before taking them again and burying his face between them for a moment. You gasp in pain again, and he closes his mouth over one of your nipples gently tweaking the other as you arch your back and moan.

“That’s yes, daddy.” He growls, going back to sucking at your nipple, licking and biting the sensitive nub, and you blink up at him for a moment, Midoriya making a strangled cry against the gag. He knew it, knew he’d guessed right as to what Deku had you call him in bed, and he waits, gives you a chance to safeword out before you speak with trembling lips.

“Y-yes, daddy.” You hide a little from him. “P-please don’t hurt me.” He softens, trailing a hand down your body, between your legs, just gently dipping it between your folds.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet,” He says, genuine surprise almost coloring his face, “You like this, huh slut?” You pause and he slaps your clit, harder than he means to, but you don’t cry out, just bite down on your lip as the tears spill over. “Answer me when I goddamn talk to you.”

“Yes,” you choke out a sob, “Yes, daddy, I like it.” He rewards you for your honesty with a soft soothing touch to the affected area, before starting to fuck you with his fingers, ghosting little touches over your clit, enough to make you react, but not enough to give you any relief.

“Good girl,” He coos, “You gonna shuttup and take whatever I give you?” You glance nervously at Midoriya, who looks so blissed out he’s barely paying attention. “Oi,” Bakugou snaps, “Focus up slut.”

“Yes,” you promise, “Yes d-daddy, ‘m gonna,” you shudder out a gasp when he pushes the two fingers a little deeper inside of you measuring every reaction carefully, and thrusting a little quicker accordingly, “m gonna take what, what you give me, promise.”

“You like him watchin’ you?” He asks, “You filthy fuckin’ thing, gettin’ so wet cause your boyfriend’s watchin’ you get fucked by his best friend?” Your eyes widen. “That’s right princess, you’re fuckin’ lucky I’m preppin’ ya. I’m sure that pretty little pussy of yours isn’t used to real cock.” The pleasure overwhelms you, writhe against the restraints, rolling your hips against his hand, doing anything to increase friction, increase pleasure, increase the sensation of- “Whaddya think?” Bakugou turns to Midoriya, “You wanna watch her cum on my fuckin’ fingers?” Midoriya whimpers plaintively, huge muscles bulging as he ruts his hips against his sweatpants, equally focused on his own pleasure. “Pathetic.” Bakugou spits.

“Oh,” you whimper, “Oh my god,”

“Yeah,” Bakugou smirks, “Am I your fuckin’ god bitch?” Your eyes lose focus as you get closer to your high. “Beg me to cum.” He orders, “Beg your god to make you cum, in front of your fuckin’ cuck asshole of a boyfriend?”

“Please,” you cry out, all shame forgotten, “Please, please can I cum,”

“Please can I cum, god,” He snarls and you nod quickly, gasping for breath as you try to ride the edge of the cliff.

“Please, please god,” he chuckles, he almost can’t believe you actually did it, “Can I cum please,”

“You wanna cum in front of him?” You nod quickly, toes curling as you bite down on your lip. “He ever make you feel this good?”

“No,” you breathe, “No never.”

“Look at him.” Bakugou orders, taking your jaw with his free hand and holding it so tightly it squishes your face, “Look at him, and cum.” Your orgasm rips through you, and your eyes roll in your head as your vision whites out and waves of pleasure rock your body. Bakugou doesn’t release your jaw, slowing his pumps in and out of your core in accordance with your breathing’s return to normal. When he sees your eyes regain some clarity he climbs over you, and shoving his fingers in your mouth. “Clean me the fuck off.” He snaps, and you obey immediately, sucking gently at his fingers. “Color?” He asks gruffly and you blink a couple times before it registers.

“Gween,” you mumble around his fingers, “M fine.” He smirks. Good. He could push you further. At this angle, you can get a better look at his cock, long and thick with a slight upward tilt, it’s intimidatingly large. You’re so focused on it, you almost don’t feel him adjust you, tying both of your wrist to one side of the headboard, closest to Midoriya. Your head dangles off the edge now, his careful knotwork on your far ankle the only thing keeping you from sliding to the floor. He walks around the bed and takes a moment, brushing the hair from your face before pressing the head of his cock, smooth and pink with need, against your soft lips. He thinks about it and reaches over, just barely managing to rip the gag off of Midoriya before turning his attention back to you, and how you’re stubbornly keeping your mouth closed. Deku sputters and spits out your panties.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Please, please, untie my hands, I need,”

“You think you get to fuckin’ cum?” Bakugou turns to him, angrily. “Nah, you sick fuck, gettin’ off on watching your girlfriend get slapped around?” He thinks for a moment. “Tell you what, bitch,” and it’s unclear at first who he’s speaking to, “If I cum before you do, I’ll have her give you some attention while I fuck her brains out.” Deku just whimpers, his cock harder than it’s ever been in his life, just the sensation of it rubbing against his sweatpants is driving him insane, there’s a dark grey stain on his light grey sweatpants from precum.

“Open up,” Bakugou snaps, palming your breasts roughly, he knows it’s hard enough to bruise when you whimper, but he can’t help himself, you’re so soft. “I’m bein’ real nice to ya,” he says, slapping you across the face with his cock, “Especially when you’re just a dirty fuckin’ whore who cums for anyone who pays her a little attention huh?” Your eyes widen and you keep your mouth shut, shaking your head. He grins, and kneels beside you, “High and mighty all of a sudden, huh cocksleve,” he pinches your nose shut and you start to squirm, pulling at the rope around your wrists. “Breathing is for good girls.” He growls. “Course you could always open up that useless fuckin’ hole of yours, but you won’t do that will ya?” He shakes his head, with a mean laugh, “You know, I was gonna let you suck my dick rather than fuckin’ your face. Too bad you’re such a bratty little bitch huh?” Your face is warming, your lungs screaming for oxygen. You open your mouth, determined it’ll be quick but he’s got you where he wants you, shoving two thick fingers in between your lips, barely allowing you to suck in breath. “You got one last chance,” Bakugou says, “Or I’ll get something to hold this open for me, understand? Somethin’ unpleasant.” You nod, blinking more tears from your eyes as he stands back up and withdraws his fingers, barely letting you breathe before pushing his cock into your mouth. It’s heavy on your tongue, and in your current position, it slides effortlessly down your throat.

“Shit.” Midoriya breathes, watching the way your neck is bulging with his cock, “Shit that’s so fucking hot, oh my god,” he pulls at the bonds again, wanting to get up, to press down on the bulge, to see your tears spill as you gag.

“Fuck yeah,” Bakugou murmurs, the softest sound he’s made all night, “That’s it princess, fuck yeah,” his thrusts are careful, caluclated, allowing you to breathe just enough so that you stay conscious, delighting in your gasping sputtering gags, as he takes his cock out and taps it on your face, coating you in precum and your own spit, before sliding it back in. “You’re fuckin’ filthy,” he repeats, in the same amazed, breathless tone, “You don’t do this for that cuck, do you,” he pulls out to allow you to answer and you do, honestly,

“No,’ you wheeze, before he goes back to slowly and methodically fucking your throat, and Midoriya moans again loudly.

“Fuck, please, Kacchan, I swear, I’ll be good, I swear.”

“You’re beggin’ now?” Bakugou stops mid stroke, cock buried in you, his balls resting softly on your forehead as you begin to squirm, indicating that you need to breathe. “Tell me somethin’,” he says, “You think you wanna cum more than she needs to breathe right now?” Midoriya whines, “You tell me that you wanna cum, more than you wanna see me take my dick outta her airway, and I’ll have her suck you off.” You whimper against him, eyes wide, you need air, your lungs are burning with need. Midoriya thinks for a moment, mind hazy, thinking only of the pain between his legs, the dull ache taking over his mind.

“Need to cum,” He gasps, and Bakugou scowls, ripping his cock out of your mouth, letting you gasp for air as drool drips down your face, “More than she needs to breathe,”Midoriya says, watching you attempt to catch your breath. “Please, need it, need-” Bakugou gets up and snatches something from his bag, shoving the wiffle ball gag in the pro heroes mouth and fastening it behind his head.

“That’s about enough outta you.” Bakugou growls, and he can hear the muffled, Kacchan, kacchan you promised, but he ignores it, loosing your wrists from the side of the bed and fastening them back to the center before nearly effortlessly freeing your legs from each corner. Before you really know what’s happening, you’re flipped on your stomach, knees bent underneath you. He presses your back into an arch and gently rubs the head of his cock on your softness with a loud groan, before turning back to Midoriya. “Gonna forget about your ass for a little, and just enjoy your girlfriend’s sweet,” he inches inside, “Wet,” he takes a fistful of your ass before pushing another couple inches, “Cunt.” He pounds into you and you keen, laying on the side of your face so that you can look your boyfriend dead in the eyes, “Fuck baby,” Bakugou growls, as he pushes mewl after mewl from your lips. You’ve never felt this full before, this, satisfied, and your brain is a million miles away as you start to babble incoherently.

“Fuck, fuck yes,” you moan loudly, “Please, please don’t stop.”

“That’s it’ princess,” Bakugou moans, as you push back against his thrusts so that he can fuck you harder, every soft part of your body jiggling when his hips collide with your ass. He brings his hand down hard on your ass and you sigh with pleasure, reacting like he’d kissed you softly. He grins, somehow getting harder inside you, your perfect velvety walls squeezing him as you lose all sense of yourself.

“Please daddy,” you beg, “More, more please.” He lands another spank and you choke out a moan, this one betraying a little discomfort but with the way your cunt is squeezing and fluttering around him, he’s not about to stop.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” Bakugou growls, “You close, you gonna cum for me?” You nod emphatically, ruse and roleplay and tied up boyfriend forgotten, you’re so drunk on the best cock you’ve had in years, that when you open your mouth to beg words barely come out.

“Please, daddy,” you say again, “Wanna cum on your cock, please,”

“So fuckin’ dirty,” he chides, “Tell me you love it.”

“I love it!” You chant, half cry, half sob, “I love it I love it so much!”

“Is this the best fuck you’ve ever had,” Bakugou taunts, expecting some resistance, but you just nod again,

“Yes,” you moan, face pressed to the bed, drool leaking from your mouth. Eyes unfocused. “Yes daddy, this’s the best fuck I’ve ever had.” Whatever self control Bakugou had been previously exercising dissipates at your words, pounding into you, brutally fucking you into oblivion.

“You can cum bitch,” He snaps, “Just tell me you’re my fuckin’ bitch, tell me who you goddamn belong to.”

“You, you, you, daddy!” You cry and he spanks you one last time, collapsing on top of you as you both cum, bodies tangled and twitching and sweaty, both only semi conscious of what’s happening. Bakugou remembers where he is before you do, and moves back, pulling out of your pussy with a lewd squelch, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before walking slowly up to your boyfriend. He pulls the gag out and Midoriya immediately whines.

“Please, please untie my hands, quickly.” Bakugou thinks about it, reaching for the knife he’d left on your bedside table.

“Depends.” Bakugou says, “You gonna eat my cum outta her pussy like a good boy?” Midoriya blinks a couple times.

“That, that wasn’t part of the deal, you weren’t even supposed to do that.” he hisses, and Bakugou shrugs, watching Midoriya’s pupils dilate as he looks at the cum leaking out of your pussy, while you shiver in the cool of the bedroom, then back to his own cock, the stain from the precum on his sweatpants growing.

“What’s it gonna be?” He says, and Midoriya nods slowly, then desperately as Bakugou slices through the tape and rope, letting the slightly shorter man leap across the room and bury his face in your cunt, suckling needily as he fists his own cock and you groan at the extra stimulation. It takes Deku about a full minute to reach his own climax, release splattering over his abs, he dabs at it with a t-shirt and then wipes his face, before collapsing next to you on the bed.

“Bunny,” he moans, “I love you so much.” Bakugou watches you swallow nervously, and gently unties your wrists from the headboard.

“Hold her, dumb shit.” Bakugou snaps. “Haven’t you ever heard of aftercare?” You sniff, and Bakugou yanks on his sweatpants before tossing you his t shirt. You wiggle into it as you begin to tremble. Midoriya pats your hand softly, and Bakugou rolls his eyes, lying down on the other side of you, pressing his chest to your back. “Good girl,” he rumbles, “You did such a good job for us,” He says, rubbing little circles in your hips with his thumb, then looking meaningfully at Midoriya.

“Oh uh,” he says, looking sheepish, “Good job, you were, you were so perfect, bunny, you’re so sweet for me all the time. You nod, sniffling harder.

“Thanks ‘zuku.” You say, snuggling into him, away from Bakugou, who swallows, and nods. “You were so mean, Bakugou,” you giggle lightly, “I didn’t think you could be so mean.” You shiver, and he presses his lips to your temple.

“You are smart, and strong, and beautiful.” He says in a low growl, trying to prompt Midoriya, who seems a bit distracted with his own bliss. “You know I don’t think of you like uh,” he thinks about it, “A uh, a cocksleeve.” You laugh softly, and he relaxes as some of the warmth returns to your eyes. “You’re a good girl.” He says again, and you sigh happily, relaxing into him. Something tugs at his heart, and he stands, cleaning up the bedroom while you take your boyfriend’s hand. “You should take a shower with her.” Bakugou says, hovering in the doorway. “Ah, you should you know, just like extra soft, extra nice, and stuff, you know just uh, this is a lot, it’s intense, and I know it’s her first time doing this kind of-”

“I’ll be fine.” Midoriya says, scooping you up in his arms. “Thank you honestly, we should do it again sometime, when she’s up for it.” Bakugou plays it as casually as he possibly can, eyes on your soft glossy lips. He swallows.

“Yeah uh, honestly,” he shrugs, “Had fun. So uh, when-”

“This weekend?” Midoriya says desperately, “Please?” Bakugou’s eyes flick to your limp form.

“Just uh, if she’s down, you know.”

“Oh yeah,” Midoriya says, “Baby’s such a sweet angel, I’m sure she’s down.” You nod softly into his chest and the blondes heart aches when you reach for him, squirming away from your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his neck in a quick hug. It might be his imagination, but he feels your lips on his neck. He carefully watches Deku, but his eyes don’t catch any jealousy, any misgivings.

“I’m wearing your shirt?” You mumble, as if you’re just realizing, tugging it off and handing it to him. “You can’t go out like that.” He nods, taking the soft black shirt back and pulling it on.

“See, ya.” He says gruffly. “Cuck.” Midoriya blushes. “Princess.” He says gruffly, and he walks through your living room and into the hallway of the apartment building.

“C’mon bunny.” He hears Midoriya say, “Let’s get in the shower, unless you just wanna crash?”

Bakugou showers at his own place, tossing his backpack in the closet. He fluffs his hair in the mirror, doing some light stretches before lying in his bed. He tucks himself in, turns the light off, and starts scrolling through his phone. He reads the news for a bit before saying,

“Fuck it,” out loud, and opening pornhub. He scrolls through video after video, none of them scratching his itch, testing keywords and new phrases, until he finds what he’s looking for, someone with, fuck, the same color eyes as you, who stares at the camera with the same gentle innocence.

“Oh daddy,” the pornstar says in a kittenish voice, and he winces at the lack of verisimilitude, of connection, compared to what he’d just experienced. “Come on, daddy, your bad wittle girl wants to-” His phone vibrates with a text, rescuing him from just shutting down the browser all together.

You: hi

Bakugou: whats up

He curses himself for texting back so quickly, but relaxes when he sees the little dots indicating you’re typing.

You: ah izuku crashed.

Bakugou: shit sweetheart you gotta tell him he has to do aftercare with you or you’re not gonna be his fuckin kinky ginea pig.

You: I mean, I liked it.

Bakugou: obviously. Whats up tho.

You: um

You: now i feel bad. I dunno like, I’m shaky, I feel weird.

Bakugou: pain/fear = endorphins, you’re coming off a high

You: so no wine or depressants im guessing

Bakugou: no shit dumbass.

Bakugou: did he seriously crash?

You: yeah it’s nbd, he works a lot.

Bakugou: I work a lot.

Bakugou sighs, flipping his smartphone in his hands and fidgeting, porn forgotten.

Bakugou: call me.

You hesitate, curled up on the couch in one of Izuku’s t-shirts and a throw blanket. But you and Bakugou were friends, weren’t you? He’d made you feel so good, not just during the sex but after and before, and he’d always looked after you when you’d shrink inside yourself during large gatherings of Izuku’s hero friends. You press the phone icon.

“Hey,” There’s a rush of static when you breathe into the phone.

“Hey,” He repeats, and kicks himself for not thinking of a more emotionally intelligent greeting. “You uh, you okay?”

“I feel weird.” You say, and your voice sounds small, like you’re caving in on yourself. “I, I liked it, I had fun I just feel weird now.” There’s a pause, Bakugou doesn’t speak so you continue. “Bakugou if um, if you were here, what uh, what would you be doing?” He grunts a little, sitting up on his bed.

“Where are you?” He asks gruffly.

“The couch.”

“Oof,” Bakugou says, “Didn’t wanna get in bed with him?”

“No.” The admission falls from your lips, unbidden.

“Whatcha wearin’?” He asks and that gets a half hearted laugh out of you.

“Bakugou!”

“Shuttup it’s fucking relevant.” He snaps. You sigh into the phone.

“A t shirt, a bra and panties.” You say, “And I’m wrapped in a blanket.” He nods.

“Okay, If I were there,” He says, “I’d hold you, on the couch, with your head propped up on my arm, and I’d be helpin’ with you wherever it hurt.” He takes a deep breath. “So uh, where does it hurt?” He hears you stretch and sigh. You think about it, your whole body feels achey, in a good way, except for the pain just below your ribs.

“My throat is sore,” you say, after considering, and he chuckles,

“Yeah it is.”

“Shut up!” You hiss. “And um, my hips are sore, like where they meet my ribs?” In his apartment, Bakugou smirks.

“Yeah, I uh mighta gonna a little hard on you for a first timer.”

“I wasn’t a virgin.” You whisper defensively.

“Obviously.” He grunts. “Listen, you gotta uh, you’re not gonna feel better unless you comfort yourself, so grab some uh, like scented lotion, and work on the things that hurt, ice them or get a heating pad. Or kick deku the fuck out of bed and tell him to pay attention to his girlfriend.” You laugh lightly.

“Fuck,” you pause, “Should I do that?”

“Hell yes you should!” Bakugou says, a touch of anger seeping into his tone, “He asked you to do this for him, even if ya liked it I could tell we were leagues out of your comfort zone.”

“But I trust you.” For some reason that little interjection hits him hard, warmth spreading slowly across his chest. “And um,” you swallow, “He doesn’t like it when I wake him up, he gets a little uh,” you reach for the right word, “Cranky when he doesn’t get enough rest.”

“What’s Deku like when he’s cranky?” Bakugou says, barking out a laugh, “I’ve never seen it.” He instantly regrets his joking tone when you force out the most joyless laugh he’s ever heard.

“He’s um,” he hears your voice pinch, “He smiles the whole time, and says something like, you know, I’ve got so much on my plate, and I’ve got so much going on I just need to sleep and have a supportive partner, you can handle something simple like that, right?” You cough at the end of your terrible impersonation and treat Bakugou to the second most joyless laugh he’s ever heard.

“Shit, sweetheart.”

“I know,” your voice breaks, “I know it’s bad, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have downplayed it, I-” you take a shakey breath, “This, this isn’t your problem, you shouldn’t-”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m coming over.”

“You can’t!” You breathe desperately, “He’ll wake up, and he’ll be upset with me.” Bakugou chuckles.

“He’s not gonna get mean with you in front of me.” You can hear him moving, presumably looking for shoes, “Deku’s got an image to protect. Let me in, I’ll be there in 10.”

“O-okay.” You press END on the call and he hears you let a choked sob into your pillow before the line disconnects. He groans loudly before tossing his phone across the room. That little sob, that tiny defeated sound echoes around his empty apartment. Fuck it. He’d run there.

You’re crying on the couch, partially ashamed of your weakness and partially still feeling completely unmoored when you hear a soft knock at the door. Tentatively, you stand, padding quietly to the door and looking through the peephole.

“Bakugou,” You swing the door open

“I don’t,” you fidget, “I don’t know about I mean, I don’t know if you should be here.” Bakugou nods slowly, but he can’t, he can’t just leave. You take him in, there’s a speckle of raindrops on his shoulder, and you realize, the light coat of sweat on his body, his sweatpants and t-shirt, he ran here.

“I just wanna,” he looks away, “I mean, I broke you apart, right, I know, I thought your fuckin’ boyfriend would put you back together, but uh, someone’s gotta.” You consider, and he watches your decision making process with interest, your eyes flick to the closed door where he can almost hear Deku snoring, then to his hands and back to his face. Almost in slow motion you take a single one of his fingers and lead him to the couch, sitting cross legged across from him. “How long uh,” he tucks his legs under the blanket, “How long has it been like this?”

“A few months.” You say, corners of your mouth drooping. “At first we’d fight about it, but I think he’s kinda given up. I was honestly thinking,” you look over your shoulder and then back at Bakugou, “About um, you know a more serious conversation, like a break, when he suggested we try this.” Bakugou blinks.

“He wanted to try, to try me and you, because-”

“He said he felt distant from me, and this might help I,” you chew your lip, “I really enjoyed it, I mean it’s not like he forced me,” a small sad smile spreads across your face, “I thought maybe he’d be jealous. Guess I was ah, hurting for it.” There’s a pause, and the two of you sit in the darkness, listening to Deku snore.

“People say a lotta shit about me.” Bakugou rumbles. “I don’t listen, for the most part, I,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “Like that I’m selfish, and competitive and an asshole, and I, I know I am those things, you know I just wander around, slicin’ people on my sharp edges, but I, I’m a fuckin’ hero at the end of the day this is the only job I ever wanted.” You nod.

“I understand.”

“I just,” He fumbles for the words, “So right now, when I say get the fuck over here, I just, I wanted you to know that’s the instinct I’m chasing.” Your eyes widen with surprise. He reaches out and takes your hand, guiding you until you’re lying down together, you facing him, about three inches of space between your bodies.

“Bakugou,” you whisper, “ I shouldn’t have let you in.”

“Why,” he cups your face with one hand, “So why did you?” You lean into his warmth, and take a deep breath.

“I think I, I wanted to be touched softly so bad.” He nods, gently stroking your cheek.

“I shouldn’t have come.” He responds, and then reassures you, “I won’t try shit, I promise, please, just, I can’t stand to see ya like this.” You let him fold you into his chest, shuddering into him. “Sometimes, I think, y’know him gettin’ his quirk from All Might, that it saved me a little.” You look up at him, surprised, only having seen Bakugou snap at the good natured ribbing from his friends at Him and Izuku’s old competition, Deku long having solidified his place as number one.

“What do you mean?” You whisper, and he shrugs.

“I think,” he murmurs, “I’d just hate to see myself as so much, y’know, as so big, so that people around me look like ants.” He thinks about it. “Especially, someone who loved me, uh, as much as you clearly love him.”

“I do.” Tears burn in your eyes now. “I love him so much. Do you wanna hear something funny?” He nods.

“Sure.”

“I tried.” You breathe. “I said, I think maybe we’re meant for a deep and meaningful friendship, and uh, he just said no, I don’t think that’s it.” Bakugou snorts and your eyes widen. “Shhhh!”

“Listen,” Bakugou rumbles. “Keep tryin’ if you love the idiot or whatever.” He pulls away so you can see him grin. “He already texted me about this weekend.” You smile despite yourself. “I got some ideas myself,” you feel his lips on your cheek, on your ear, “‘S far as I’m concerned, when he gives you to me, you’re fuckin’ mine.” You bury your face in his chest and he tangles his hands in your hair. He smells so good, and he’s so warm, you realize you could fall asleep right there.

“Mmhm, okay.” You mumble. “Question.”

“What’s up?” He whispers.

“You’re not, you know, doing this to um, get back at him, for like-”

“No.” Bakugou says, louder than he means. “Nah, I uh, I mean fuckin’ deku’s girlfriend sounded fun to me when he proposed it but I uh, I’m not here right now for anythin’ other than, y’know I was worried about you.”

“Really?” You mumble. “Getting soft on me, Dynamight?” He chuckles lowly.

“Brat to me at your own fuckin’ risk sweeheart.” You shudder. “Aw,” He breathes, “Is baby scared?”

“No.” You protest, “I’m not scared of you.” He presses his lips to your forehead.

“You shouldn’t have said that. Now I’m gonna-” You both freeze when you hear Midoriya turn over in bed and then call,

“Bunny,” He calls, and Bakugou smirks at you, “You coming to bed?”

“Yep!” You say quickly, standing, Bakugou immediately missing the warmth and weight of your body in his arms.

“Bunny?” Bakugou mouths, shaking his head with a smirk, and you shrug, shooing the huge blonde towards the door.

“Get out.” You close the door on him quickly, and run to your bedroom, scooting quickly underneath your blanket and moving towards your boyfriends.

“Hey,” you whisper in the dark, guilt ripping through you, “Hey Izuku.” He moves closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his chest before letting you flop next to him. “Hey,” you try again, “Hey, I know, um, just if we do that again um, I just need, um some more like, attention from you after.” He props his head up, clearly struggling to stay awake.

“What?”

“You know, um,” you fidget with the sheets. “Bakugou said we were supposed to do aftercare and stuff and I-”

“I know,” Deku sighs happily. “You know, I work so much, and I spend all day helping people, and I just, I feel so grateful to have a partner who is so self sufficient.” Your heart thrums in your chest. “I mean I don’t have a ton of energy at the end of the day but you’re always around when I need you.” You swallow.

“Yeah um,” your eyes well with tears. “Sometimes, Izuku, I need support too.” There’s a silence. “Izuku?” You hear a snore, and realize he’s fallen asleep. Your phone buzzes.

Bakugou: don’t stay up too late.

You: I won’t.

You: why did you worry about me

Bakugou: he said he loved you and you flinched.

You: did I?

Bakugou: i told you.

Bakugou: this is the only job I ever wanted. So I pay attention.

You: huh

Bakugou: sleep.

You: yes, will do.

A few days later you’re coming back in with a light bag of groceries, and Deku is sitting at your apartment island, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” He runs to you and holds you to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He’s stepped up the affection since having Bakugou over, though he’s as hard to read as ever. You take a deep breath through your nose. “Kacchan’s coming later, you up for it?” You swallow nervously, you hadn’t talked to Bakugou since he came over and he hadn’t reached out again, but it was undeniably the best sex of your life, you shiver at just the memory of his hands on your body.

“Yeah.” You smile, mouth going dry. “What’s in the box?” Deku shrugs.

“It’s addressed to you.” You open it and your gasp draws his attention.

“Holy shit.” He breathes, eyes like saucers, “Put that on right now.” The Dynamight Official lingerie is complicated, with an elastic around your waist, white with orange lettering, attached to a pair of dark green thigh highs, that your skin squishes around, the plush of your waist and thighs soft around the elastic. The bra is also dark green, with an elastic band, with the same orange lettering on white, but the final straw is the pair of mid waisted dark green mesh panties, with sheer panels, and a message sewn right into the crotch, right where the threads would brush the most sensitive parts of a woman, matching the lining around your waist, under your bust, and you haven’t seen it yet, but dangling from the green leather collar in the box, Property Of Dynamight.

Your heart is racing, as you wiggle into the lingerie, straightening the thigh highs.

“Baby,” Deku groans, “Baby this is so fucking hot.” Your face is warm and you fidget as he cups your face in his hands and palms your breast. “Fuck you look so good like this.” He reaches for you, and the door opens, and all 6’6 of Bakugou Katsuki looms in the doorway, all the blood in his head rushing below his waist at the sight of you, covered in his name. All he does, however, is walk over and reach into the box, removing the expensive leather collar and leash.

“Forgot the most important part,” he hits Deku lightly on the back of the head. “Shithead.”

if u enjoyed this fic please consider reblogging it <3

[hawksugarbaby]

Fuck man how is he so 😩

[hawksugarbaby]

hi! i love your writing and i finally have the courage to send a request-

loki in his jotun form is 10x more sensitive to heat, and the first few times, comes before his partner because it's so warm and good to him. so he makes it a personal goal to make them come first in his jotun form. dom!jotun loki x sub!reader :p

not the whatif!jotunloki but mcu!jotunloki. preferably in second perspective, aaand if your comfortable with it gender neutral pet names for the reader :,)) i’m nonbinary (afab) so terms like “good girl” kinda throws me off sometimes, but if you’re not comfortable with it that’s ok and you can write with fem!reader!

A/N: Thank you so much for your request. This was a really fun one the write. I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible, hopefully I succeeded in it. I hope you like it :) (Besides, I did love whatif!jotunloki in the series, but mcu!jotunloki is the one I alway prefer)

Word count: 1.682 words Warnings: Sex (18+) MDNI, dom/sub, edging.

Personal Mission It didn’t happen often, but sometimes Loki would indulge you and fuck you in his Jotün-form. Not that he wasn’t good in his Asgardian-form. Your sex-life could be described as anything, except boring. But in his Jotün-form it was different. Maybe it was because it was his ‘true’-form. Or maybe it was because the biology of Jotüns were a little different than humans. But in that form, he was more in charge, more dominant, more primal. And you didn’t mind that one bit.

There was something else, though. Something Loki was very ashamed of the first time it happened. As a Frost Giant, he preferred the cold. His whole body was more sensitive to heat. The first time he had entered you in his Jotün-form, it only took him a few pumps, before he couldn’t hold back anymore and came inside of you. Normally, he would let you come first, at least once but often multiple times, before he began to chase his own high. But the heat of your walls that surrounded his cock felt too good for him to hold back.

Now, it was the standard that Loki would come first when he was in his Jotün-form. And that definitely didn’t mean that the sex was any less good. He always made sure that you had achieved your high after his. And you were fine with this. Little did you know that Loki was on his own personal mission tonight.

The moment you stepped through the door he pushed you against the wall. He slammed the door shut and trapped you between his body and the wall. He started to kiss your neck and dragged his teeth across your skin. He kissed your lips passionately and you closed your eyes. You felt his hands at your hips, keeping you pinned against the wall. Suddenly, his lips started to feel cold against your skin. After a few seconds you felt his getting cold as well. He stopped kissing you and when you opened your eyes, you were staring in his red eyes. By the way he looked and you, you knew you were in trouble.

Before you could react, he grabbed your hair and pulled it. You hissed from the slight pain and were unable to move your head at the moment. His lips were on your ear, before he said anything you felt him inhale your scent.

‘How dare you come to the restaurant, dressed like that’ he growled in your ear. ‘I have been wanting to bend you over that table for the last two hour’

His deep raspy voice went straight to your core. You clenched your thighs together in the hope to find some relief. But it didn’t work.

‘Maybe you should have’ you boldly replied.

‘Oh, pet’ he sinisterly laughed in your ear. ‘You have no idea what I have in store for you’

Before you could answer he let go of your hair and grabbed your hips. In one motion ducked down and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped in surprise. He slapped your ass harder than you would have expected him to do.

‘Save that pretty voice over yours. You are going to need it’ he told you.

He threw you on the bed. You playfully attempted to scramble away from him, but he grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards him. He clawed at your clothes and ripped them to shreds. In a few minutes time you laid naked underneath him, with him still fully clothed in his suit. He hooked his arms underneath your legs and grabbed your hips. He pressed his tongue against your clit and started to eat you out methodically. The only thing you were able to do was lay there and take it. In mere minutes you were a moaning mess underneath him. You tried to squirm in his grasp, moving away from the intense pleasure his tongue was giving you. But he kept you pinned down on the bed.

You felt the pleasurable feeling build inside of you. It was getting higher and higher. You arched your back and clenched the sheets together in your hands. But right before the moment of your peak, he stopped. You angled your head, so you were able to see him.

‘What?’ was the only word that you said. Your mind was still trying to come to terms with the lack of stimulation, you so desperately wanted.

Loki just smirked at you ‘What?’ he answered.

After a few deep breaths you felt the feeling eb away. It was the most frustrating thing in the world. Loki got on two knees and removed his jacket. He pushed your thighs back down on the bed and slowly started to stroke your clit. The touch was very light, nearly not enough pressure for your liking. But you knew better right now than to try to do something about it. Especially when he was in this form. Besides, there was something thrilling about Loki taking complete control over you. And you were curious what he was up to, because he was definitely up to something.

He slightly increased the pressure on your clit. Over time you felt your orgasm approaching. You closed your eyes and relaxed, waiting for the feeling to overtake you. But right before you could feel it, he stopped again. You instinctively moved your hand to your clit to finish the job. But Loki grabbed your wrist, before you could reach it. When the feeling of your missed orgasm ebbed away, it was harder to focus on what was happening around you. Loki removed his tie and grabbed both your wrists. He tied them together above your head, with his tie.

And that’s when you knew what he was up to.

He started to kiss you, until the feeling of your orgasm was completely gone. He didn’t stop kissing you, but you felt his fingers slowly making their way back to your clit. You tried to move away, but the weight of his body forced you to stay. You whined a little when you felt his fingers again. Not, because it didn’t feel good. But you knew he wouldn’t let you finish this time either. And you were right.

Loki took his time to almost bring you to your high, only to let you fall. Again, and again. After every missed orgasm he removed one item of his own clothing. And Loki being Loki, things like the shoes and socks were counted separately. You lost all track of time. You were moaning so hard, your whole voice sounded horse. In between your failed orgasms he would offer you some resting time and some water. But his fingers or tongue always returned to your clit, to quickly for your liking.

When he was completely naked, he hovered above you. Memorising the way, you looked ruined underneath him. You were panting and sweating, while he looked unaffected by all this. The only thing that gave him away, was the fully erect cock between his legs that started to leak precum.

‘You look absolutely beautifully when you are ruined by my touch’ he whispered in your ear.

‘Loki, I can’t anymore’ you panted back. Tears were starting to form in your eyes due to the frustration. Even tough his touch kept you cool, you felt like your whole body was on fire. You were sensitive and every little touch set you off.

‘This time I’ll let you finish’ he said in all seriousness. And you knew he wasn’t lying.

He grabbed your hips and aligned your entrance with his cock. He slowly entered you, and you shivered a bit from the cold feeling inside of you. He started to pump, and you arched your back, because your orgasm wasn’t that far away. When he started to flick your clit in the rhythm he was moving, you finally reached your high. You screamed his name so loudly, you were sure the neighbours could hear it. You walls clenched down and gripped his cock. A few more pumps and you felt his seed spill inside of you. He groaned loudly and collapsed half on top of you. The weight felt comfortable and both of you laid there, gathering your breath.

Loki finally pulled out and moved to your side. You snuggled against him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you.

‘How are you feeling, love?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know if I should wear this outfit less or more often’ you chuckled.

Loki laughed with you. ‘I can say this night has been amazing’

The two of you laid there, enjoying the way one and another felt. But after a while, you couldn’t ignore the mess between your legs anymore. ‘Loki’ you whispered.

‘Hmm’ he hummed.

‘I want to clean myself up’ you said.

He grumbled a little, but reluctantly let go of you. ‘Go take a shower, if you want. Put on some fluffy clothes and we can see a movie’ he said.

You did as he proposed. The two of you ended up watching a movie on the couch. Both in comfortable clothing, cuddling against each other. Loki had made popcorn, which you ate most of. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes that you realised you had fallen asleep, and Loki had put you to bed. The smell of eggs and greeted you, and you heard Loki stumbling around in the kitchen. You left the bed to join him in the kitchen. To your surprise he was still in his Jotün-form. Normally, he would change back the next day. When you entered the kitchen, he looked a little nervous. You just stepped towards him, gave him a big kiss on his lips and sat down at the table. The nervous look was replaced with relief.

You made coffee and poured him a cup as well. When breakfast was served, you grabbed the paper to read it, while Loki had his nose buried in a book. There was a comfortable silence, nothing needed to be said. Because at this moment, everything was perfect.

Taglist: @delightfulheartdream @theaudacitytowrite @pescadoavocado @theestorm @justacripple @taurusbeing @callistoneith @mavelfan2335 @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @vbecker10 @prettylittlepluviophile @stjarnaloki @dayzmae @lokislittlemoon @ilovefanfictions @lokis-pet-mcu