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Caleb came home…

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A snippet from this au, idk where in the tl but reader just shed her horns for the first time.

“Sylus…” You’re drooped over him like a sad blanket, lamenting over the still bloodied horn in your hands. “I’m dying.”

“You are?” Sylus learnt early that you enjoyed arguing with him, that you were irritated far easier when he wouldn’t take the bait. “That’s a shame.”

As predicted a scowl replaces that forlorn look, and you peel off him in annoyance. You’re quick to be distracted when Emcee returns, suddenly up and skipping towards her.

“Hunter.” Your act is back up, you nudge the poor, broken horn towards her. “I’m dying.”

You take satisfaction in the second of sympathy she gives you, before she plucks the horn from your hand and sets it aside.

“No you’re not.” Neither of the pair ever give you what you want. They’re too alike.

Snatching the horn back, a little smug in the blood you see that’s already stained the fabric of Sylus’s stupid, bougie seat, you stomp off.

You don’t wait around to see the telltale smirk on Sylus’s lips, or the exasperated, half-pity look on Emcee.

Maybe Luke and Kieran could offer you what you’ve just realised, you’re not actually sure you want.

[quitesins]

[quitesins]

Under Your Skin

Masterlist | AO3

Tags: 18+, Nsfw, Smut, Oneshot, Female!Reader, Timeskip!Bakugou, Pro Hero!Reader, Explicit Sexual Content Frenemies to Lovers, Sharing Physical Sensations, Phone Sex, Masturbation, PiV sex, Jealousy, 5.8k

When you and Dynamight get hit by a quirk that forces you to share all your physical sensations, you learn a bit too much about the bastard… and yourself.

There’s a throbbing in your head, and your arm, and your neck. And when you finally start to regain consciousness, you feel there’s an even worse throbbing resting on your legs. Something weighted, pressing you down, only when you open your eyes do you finally realise—

It’s Dynamight, Bakugou, Katsuki— whatever. Splayed out so you're trapped underneath the lug of him. He starts to wake, and you see that as enough reason for him to be off, so you kick out and try to stand.

“Oi.” He groans, gripping onto your ankle before you can kick him again. “Stop that.”

“Get off me.” You don’t listen and try to whack him anyway. It’s the wrong response, he just grips harder.

“Fuckin— alright!” Bakugou scowls, his head clearly still pounding as he tries to move.

You pull away from him, shifting against the rubble and attempt to take in your surroundings. 

“Are you guys okay?!” A sudden brightness interrupts your vision, Red Riot, standing over the two of you, practically shouting. 

“Yes!” Both you and Bakugou hiss back, ears ringing at the sudden volume. 

“Took quite the fall there.” Kirishima reaches out to help you stand. Already sensing Bakugou ready to jump, he quickly adds “Don’t worry! We caught the villain. Everything’s fine, just gotta get you two checked up.” 

Bakugou stands on his own, refusing Kirishima’s hand, which the redhead just shrugs at. Instead, you thank Kirishima and let him assist you to the paramedics. 

Though the extra stability helps, your legs still ache and you watch Bakugou try mask a similar struggle. His teeth clench with each hobble and you feel a little bad, reaching out to him in pity… but you miscalculate your own balance and find yourself falling to the ground, scraping your knee against the concrete, hard. And that’s when something odd happens. 

Bakugou hisses out in pain too. 

He actually clutches his left knee, where yours bleeds. Really the pain isn’t anything new, nothing compared to what you’ve taken before, but for Bakugou to react to it.

The two of you lock eyes, for far too many seconds, not saying a word.

Then quickly and without warning— you both begin to hit and punch at your own bodies, looking for something . Kirishima watches, baffled, clearly having no clue at what the two of you are doing. 

“Close your fucking eyes” Bakugou orders and you listen, scrunching up. “Kirishima hit me.”

Kirishima doesn’t even get the opportunity to challenge as Bakugou demands him again to comply. Before you even hear the noise Bakugou lets out, you feel a hard fist thump into you. 

“I can feel it.” Your eyes snap open and you gasp, raising your left arm. “Holy shit. I can feel it.”

Bakugou stares back at you, eyes equally as wide as yours. 

You both shout simultaneously—

“FUCK!”

After patching you up, the health team run a few more tests, mostly just tapping away at random parts of your bodies and taking notes on your reactions. All it really does is confirm that yes, you and Bakugou Katsuki are sharing an entire nervous system. Down to each breath you take.

And because of that, you’re both given (forced in Bakugou’s case) two weeks off, trusted to deal with the quirk’s effects sensibly, like adults— heroes, should. 

It's quite strange, feeling parts of yourself move in ways they aren’t, but it isn’t the absolute worst. The smaller things, like the action of walking, are easy to ignore. It’s mainly the random pops of his quirk that gets to you, but even then it’s just a little twitch. 

The first time he showers, however, you let out a shriek. It’s completely cold and although you know there’s nothing on you, you feel drenched to the bone. 

You call him instantly and he laughs into your ear. 

“Fuck am I meant to do?” He snorts. “Not shower?”

“You could’ve at least texted!” You huff, shoving your key into the lock. “I was still on the way home, the whole street heard me scream.”

That’s what really gets him going, laughing so loud he drowns out the sound of his shower still hammering down in the background. His laugh is so rambunctious you don’t realise he’s walking back in, until you feel the waves of icy cold water crashing over you, again. 

“Katsuki!!!”

You’re lucky enough that Bakugou is meticulous, obsessive even, with a routine that never seems to waver. You’re quick to follow it, countering his insane 5am showers with your own warm and comfortable ones. 

He did text you once about it though, telling you to “Turn the fucking heat down,” and spamming some jabber about you being a “Damn demon” from the “Depths of hell.”

You also find he’s absolutely restless. When he isn’t pattering about cooking— you assume from the heat, or paperwork— you can tell by the familiarly repetitive motions, he’s exercising. All the damn time. It’s a little condescending actually. While you spend your break how it should be spent, being a lazy fuck, he’s up and doing too many crunches to count. And what’s worse is that you can more than feel the lunges and squats, it actually tires you out. Even though you know you won’t reap any of the benefits, you have to lay down and catch your breath.

The first time you texted him a stern “I’m going to sleep. Don’t do anything to wake me up.” But by the third day it seems he’d figured out your routine and was surprisingly respecting it. 

Maybe you give him too much credit.

Too hot. Everything is too hot. You’re not even awake enough to realise it’s your own skin that burns harshly, blood pumping wildly through your veins. Instead you go to kick off your blanket and attempt to roll out of bed.

And that’s when you feel it. 

It’s fucking bizarre . Although there’s nothing there you can feel exactly where a dick should be. You can feel how his hand slides up and down. You can feel the knot in his stomach. Everything is too real. 

You pray to yourself he’ll remember that his body isn’t just his right now! That you can feel each stroke of his thick fingers moving up and down. But he doesn’t stop, in anything he gets a little faster. 

Then comes the second sensation. The feeling is unmistakable. It’s a warm, wet, human mouth. Around you— or the phantom appendage— sucking gently and that’s when you know you have to stop it.

It's pretty hard to walk, when you’re practically being sucked off, but you manage to grab your phone and dial his number furiously. 

It rings once, then twice, and by the third time you know he’s ignoring you because the mouth stops and he smacks his own thigh, in turn yours .

The mouth resumes, and you’ve had enough. Grabbing your keys, trying your best not to keel over, you’re set on getting to his apartment, which for the first time you’re glad is actually nearby. 

The drive is torturous. Really, you know you shouldn’t be driving at all, not as you have to grip the steering wheel tight, in fear if you let go you’d spasm wildly. Whoever Bakugou had on their knees, was doing a really good fucking job. The bastard was seeing heaven while you were trying your very best not to land yourself in hell, because of the sin of mass murdering late night pedestrians you only just swerve by. 

Even the sporadic pinches to your thigh don’t deter him, instead he returns them with his own. All you can do is curse and hope the ceiling caves in. Or maybe the floor under him opens up— better yet if his dick were to entirely explode.

You’re utterly winded when you do finally reach his flat, knees nearly having buckled on the stairs up. When you get to his front door, you slam down hard.

“Katsuki, open the fucking door.” You knock without restraint, not caring for the neighbors. “I swear to god if you don’t-“ 

The door opens just as you're about to thrash it again, almost having you topple in. You catch yourself, of course, but Bakugou snorts at the sight. 

“You couldn’t wait a fucking week?!” You shout before he can speak. 

You look at him, shirtless, skin flushed and dewy. His sweats hang low, just barely fumbled on, revealing the sharp muscles under his skin, and a little trail of light brown hair that you have to force your eyes to stop following.

If you weren’t so mad you’d probably enjoy the sight. That somehow ticks you off even more. 

“You seriously came all this way?” 

“You weren’t picking up your calls!” You huff. “And it’s not like you forgot about the quirk.” You gesture wildly to your thigh, probably purple from all the pinching. “You prick!”

“And what do you want me to do.” Bakugou gives you a look of annoyance, as if he was the one inconvenienced. “Stop everything because of you?”

“Yes?!” 

Bakugou then takes a step forward, suddenly looking taller. He towers over your form, with an intimidation you’re not often on the other side of. 

“Tough shit princess.” You feel the words against you. “Just ‘cause you’re not getting any, doesn’t mean I’m not.” 

You have to hold your tongue, clench your fists, and tense your arms, just so you don’t push him. Even without the quirk you were sure he could probably sense the anger building inside you. 

But then a thought hits you. 

Without saying a word, you slip your phone out your pocket and dial a number. Bakugou watches, confused but slightly curious. 

The phone only rings once before the call is picked up. Your face lightens animatedly, losing its scowl and turning into something dramatically sweet. 

“Izu…” You practically coo. “Are you free tonight?”

Bakugou’s face immediately drops at the name.

“Mhmm…” You hum. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You’re sure Bakugou can hear the man on the other end fluster but agree to what you’ve not-so subtly proposed. You give him a smug look before continuing. 

“That’s good to know…” You give Bakugou a smile, just to be dramatic. “I could wear that dress you really-“ 

You’re cut off as Bakugou grabs your wrist, pressing end call and glaring at you. 

“You wouldn’t.” He growls.

“Oh but I would.” You smile back, making sure to bare your teeth.

The two of you come to a standstill, waiting for the other to break the silence. It’s actually Bakugou who speaks first, finally yielding. 

“Fucking fine!” Exasperated, he huffs. “Fuck, I’ll send her home.”

The smug look on your face comes to a quick halt as a realisation dawns upon you.

“I don’t know her do I?” You grab him and ask with genuine dread. “Katsuki, tell me I don’t know her.”

He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, enjoying the sight of you panicked.

“Katsuki!!”

“You don’t.” He waves you off. “Just a hookup.”

That surprises you. “Didn’t know you do hookups.”

“Didn’t know you were fucking Deku.” He spits it out like a slur. You’re not quite sure why though, you could’ve sworn they’d gotten over their childhood beef. 

“I’m not.” You shrug. “But I could.” 

Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, defeated and ready to kick the girl out. It’s a bit awkward now that you think of it. Neither him nor whoever was in his room right now had… gotten their release. 

Not enthusiastic about watching him break a poor girl's heart, you turn to leave, it’s at the exact same time Bakugou goes to return, and brushes his— still very much sensitive— dick against the door. 

“Shit.” You gasp as your legs jelly. It’s like a punch to the gut, sending shockwaves through your stomach. 

Bakugou catches you by the arm before you can fall, then sighs.“Come inside. You can’t drive home like that.” 

You follow him in, not making a fight,  as if you could with the way your legs had weakened. You’ve been to his apartment before, many times, but mostly with others. So you’re not sure why there’s a sudden tension that doesn’t feel like frustration anymore. You just hope Bakugou can’t feel the way your tummy continues to flutter. 

Bakugou returns, and there’s a twitch of something green in your chest when you see the women beside him. You don’t mean to stare, she’s decent at least, but you can’t help it. You try not to acknowledge that one of your first thoughts is to compare her to yourself, and feel disappointed at the lack of similarity. 

You stop mentally analysing her when she shies away from your gaze. She looks guilty. And although, yes the situation is mortifying, you’re not sure why she looks so terribly remorseful. If anything it’s you that should be apologetic— and Bakugou most certainly. 

She squeaks out a quick “Sorry” alongside a “I didn’t know” as she gathers up her stuff. Then she glares straight at Bakugou and flicks him off. That’s when it registers. 

“Oh god no, not his girlfriend!” You correct quickly. “Definitely not the girlfriend.”

You don’t notice how Bakugou’s resting frown deepens. 

The woman looks perplexed, but decides not to question it. You hear Bakugou give his own apology as he takes her to the door, attesting to the fact he wasn’t cheating. Still you feel a little bad watching her leave. 

“Make sure to call her back and explain okay?” You’re a moralist, what can you say.

“Shut up.” Bakugou groans, making his way to his open kitchen. “Catch.” He throws you a bottle of water, still cold from the fridge. “Drink and rest a bit.”

You eye him cautiously. Why is he showing courtesy now.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Bakugou huffs, then turns his head away. There’s an expression you just about catch, that seems kind of… does he feel bad?

And for some reason that just makes you feel sheepish. Enough so that you have to turn away and focus on your water instead. 

“Thought you were asleep at first.” There’s foreign sounding guilt in his voice. “And the quirk should’ve worn down by now.”

“Well it hasn’t.” You scoff, pointing a finger directly at him. “Don’t pull any shit like that again.”

Bakugou keeps to his word. He doesn’t fuck— or half fuck anyone else. Instead, his workouts become harsher, his routine now erratic. You can’t keep countering his cold morning showers, when he’s taking three a day and going straight back to the cardio as soon as he’s out. But you don’t dare ask him to cool it, you were the reason for all his pent up energy after all. 

When your knuckles start to ache due to his new found interest in boxing, he at least has the decency to text you a blunt sorry. 

“Don’t you have any other hobbies you can waste your time with.” With your phone lodged between your head and shoulder, you scold him. “I started cooking— ah !” You hiss as some oil spits at you.

“You’re lucky I’m used to explosions.” Bakugou snorts, amused. “You’re clearly doing a shit job, turn the fucking heat down.”

“Fuck off.” You turn the heat down. “My food’s gonna be perfect!”

“Hah, doubt it.”

“You can taste it yourself!” You say with a pop, licking some sauce that had gotten on your finger. “Already so good! You’ll see.”

You feel him suck in a breath but stay silent on the line. 

“Why’d you call if you were gonna ignore me.”

“M’not.” His words come out a little mumbled. “Just, gonna go take a shower.”

“Oh!” You shove a lid onto your pan. “Let me get in too!”

He kisses his teeth at that. You don’t question why he’s annoyed. 

The water hums comfortably over you. It’s nice and warm— not too warm, rather not risk another spam of texts— and it’s exactly what you needed after a day of dealing with Bakugou’s intense workouts. 

You can vaguely feel his own cold shower under yours, but for the most part, the heat does well to cancel it out. You’re used to ignoring when Bakugou cleans his thighs. Even if you can feel his thick fingers like they’re actually on you. The same way the hot water counters his cold, you clean alongside him, to pretend all you can feel is your own hands. Brushing your fingers through your hair, you go through the rest of your routine. Making sure to thoroughly scrub at all your curves.

He’s out before you are, telling by the way your water suddenly feels much warmer. Your phone flashes from the counter, Bakugou texting you to hurry the hell up, and you take that as cue to finish. 

You’re slow with your moisturising, slathering it on and massaging it into your skin. Bakugou pinches you through himself. You wonder why but ignore it and just get dressed. 

He doesn’t text you again, instead feeling uncharacteristically still. Perhaps he’d gone to sleep? You snap him a picture of your dish anyways, if he won’t taste it he can get a good look at least. You’re about to dig in when a familiar sensation builds between your legs.

He’s— he’s fucking touching himself again—

Immediately, you go to text him, but his contact pops up first. 

Bakugou [work]: It’s okay. 

Bakugou [work]: It’s just me.

Bakugou [work]: Let me have this

You’re not even sure how to respond, but you do end up abandoning your meal and take seat on your sofa. 

Me: it’s so weird 

Me: I can feel everything 

He spits on his hand, the wetness gross. Yet you can’t seem to hate it. 

Bakugou [work]: you think I can’t feel you?

Bakugou [work]: soaping yourself up? Touching your fucking tits?

You’re lucky he can’t see you. You’d be embarrassed out of your mind. Maybe because it was nothing unusual to you, you had forgotten it would feel different to a man. 

His text bubble appears once, then disappears and appears again. Finally he continues.

Bakugou [work]: just go to sleep if it bothers you so much

His hands still stroke himself but a little languidly, as if to give you option to ignore it. You don’t. 

Me: how am I supposed to sleep if you’re doing that!

His hands still, you can just imagine his laugh. 

Bakugou [work]: think of it like a massage 

He starts up again.

Bakugou [work]: I can tell you like it

Your body betrays you and he knows.

Me: you’re an asshole

Just as you send the message you feel his hands thumb his tip and the sharp feeling of pleasure that comes with it. It’s embarrassing that your first thought is so that’s how he likes it.  

Bakugou does it once more before returning back to stroke his shaft. The pace he sets is dangerously addictive. It works him up and in turn you. You’re almost keeling when you send your next text. 

Me: Fuck it

He types again but you pay no mind, shoving your free hand down your trousers and brushing over your clit. You rub gently for a second but with your slick having gathered and spread, you realise it’s not enough. 

A text flashes on screen as you press finger into yourself. You feel Katsuki tense. 

Bakugou [work]: easy pr incess

You don’t go easy. Instead you rub at your clit faster, one finger still dipping into you. Katsuki pinches his thigh, which you ignore and continue.

Then your screen flashes a different image. A picture of Dynamight, ripped straight from your company’s website, his contact photo. 

“Fuck-“ You sigh, picking up the call. “What is it.”

“You complain and then start touching yourself?” Bakugou accuses, not letting up his own pumps.

The faint slick noises in the background of his words, makes your stomach do flips. The sudden image of his cock wet and dripping now at the forefront of your mind. You don’t realise how your own moments get faster, but Bakugou does. 

“Oi.” He pants. “Slow the fuck down.”

“Are you about to come?” You let out a breathy laugh. “So fast?”

The reply you get is a harsh pinch to your nipple, one that makes you arch a little. It feels good. 

“Shit, you liked that?” Bakugou says, in a voice that practically speaks his smirk. He pinches again and this time you really moan.

“Stop it.” you whine, pushing your fingers in again, rutting against your hand. 

“Why?” Bakugou does it again and again, making you push into your hand, deeper. “You— fuck— you really like it.”

“Katsuki.”

You feel a sharp tug of pleasure, from him. 

“Oh…” you giggle. “And do you like it when I call your n-name?”

“Shut—“ he hisses, thumbing his tip, “—the fuck up.”

“Are you sure you want that?” You tease, touching yourself the way you know your body, and his, will enjoy. “Ka-tsu-ki.” 

He only responds with a deep groan, something that edges a whine. You didn’t think you could get more turned on.

“Like you’re not getting wet when I talk to you, princess .”

Now that has your tummy twisting, stomach sinking with growing lust. Your body clenches around your fingers without permission, and you can’t even attempt to hold the moan. 

“Shit,that made you fuckin’ squeeze .” He huffs, hands getting faster. “Ke-keep doing that.” He says as you work your fingers well. “Fuck . Feels so fucking good sweetheart.”

You comply, fully knowing you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. Each stroke of his, paired with your indulgence, just brings you closer and closer to—

“Kats’— I’m gonna—“

“Fuck, me too [Name], me too .” His breaths are erratic and so are the wet sounds of his cock. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to come. Especially with how pent up he, and evidently you had been. It’s sort of magic, how you can feel the exact moment where the coil in him snaps, and how it dominoes onto you, forcing you to come with him. 

So blissed out, it takes a while for everything to catch up with you. The same goes for Bakugou.

“We shoul…” 

“Do you want to…”

You both start at the same time, and stop, embarrassed by what you want to suggest. 

There’s silence that feels like it burns, you’re not used to the heat like he is. You need it gone.

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

As you drive the nerves start to rise. Perhaps it’s knowing you’re going over for sex . It isn’t like the random visits you’ve made before that end in you staying a little longer, this is specific. 

You’re going over to have sex with Bakugou Katsuki.

Standing in front of his apartment you nearly turn back, his door somehow intimidatingly tall, too hard to knock. 

You don’t get to run however, not when Bakugou opens it immediately. 

He stands there, freshly showered, in only a tank and shorts. He looks fucking good.

“You just gonna stand there?” 

“Shut up” You push past him and take off your coat. He watches, entertained by your familiarity and the polite way you take off your shoes and line them up neatly.

“Youre being weird” Bakugou observes. “Its just me”

It ticks you off a little how casual he’s being. As if it means nothing, that the night before meant nothing, that what you’re about to do means nothing. 

“Oi, what is it?” Bakugou is quick to sense your apprehension.

“How are you being so normal about this,” you hiss. “do you even want to…” It’s hard to admit you’re nervous. “Do it…”

Bakugou looks at you, baffled. Which you return with a scowl. It’s like he can see the wheels turning in your head because before you can even open your mouth to speak, he's kissing you. 

His mouth is warm against yours, surprisingly soft for all the venom that leaves it. It’s also surprisingly sweet, he kisses you like it would hurt to pull away. 

“Been thinking about you all day,” he groans with the breath he takes. “All fucking day, Angel”

His hands roam and squeeze and when you place yours on him he almost whines. Mouthing at your neck, his fingers trail downwards, to cup you through your skirt. 

“You think I don’t want this?”

There’s a second where he stills, asking for your silent go ahead, and when you push into his hands he takes that glady. His fingers rub over your underwear, easily finding your clit and pressing firmly. He feels it in him, how sensitive you are, and he has to take a breath to calm down. 

Slowly you feel him pull away, and he has to gently shush you before continuing.

“Why are you teasing me.” You don’t mean to pout.

“M’not.” He hums, lowering down your body with kisses over your clothes. “Just let me taste you.” 

He’s on his knees before you can dispute, pushing his way under your skirt and ripping straight through your underwear. Bakugou just nips at your thigh when you give him a reprimanding tug. 

You’re swollen and wet, pulsing in front of his eyes. Slick clings to your folds and he stares at the way your pussy almost glimmers for him. 

And when you look down, he’s his own sight to behold.

Dynamight, on his knees, flushed with kiss swollen lips. His hair is messy, sticking to his forehead, a debauched reminder of the moisture that clings to him. His eyes are blown out, only a small ring of red circling his glittering pupils. You can see all of desire in him. You think you could stare at him forever.

But Bakugou has never been a patient man, and he doesn’t let you any longer. He attaches his mouth over you without warning. 

There isn’t the soft beginnings of timid kisses and shy licks, he is indulgent. Voracious in the way he eats you out. It’s selfish. He seeks his own pleasure through you. 

 “You like this more than me.”

He winks an eye open and then rolls it.

 “If I knew this shit felt so good I’d do it more.” He murmurs before diving straight back in.

Knowing exactly how and where it feels good, Bakugou had been given the ultimate cheat sheet to a woman’s body. The first cheat sheet he was ever intent on using.

“Kats…” You still hold reservations, not wanting to admit you’re getting close. “If you keep…”

He moans into you. “I know.”

He speeds up, disregarding any of your pleas to slow down. You realise he wants you to come. All over his face, all over him . He doesn’t hesitate in making it clear that he’ll have you coming undone right here, right now.

You can feel it in your own hair, how tightly you pull on his. It's masochistic how that makes the coil in you wind even worse. Katsuki takes that as encouragement to continue. 

It hits you quickly, and it’s embarrassing how you gush all over him. Without shame, Bakugou smiles into your still spasming pussy.

“Fuck.” Finally steadying his breaths, Bakugou groans. Still on his knees, you’re afraid to look down at the mess you’ve made. 

“Did you…” you ask, feeling a little selfish. 

“No.” He shakes his head, scrambling up to stand. “But I gotta be inside of you, now.”

Not another word can be said before he hoists you up onto his shoulder. You can’t even fathom the sudden change in height as he barrages through his flat and throws you, albeit gently, onto his bed. You nearly kick him at the audacity until you catch the darkening reds of his eyes.

Oh he’s going to ruin you. 

Bakugou pulls off his shirt, body overrun with heat, and is on top of you almost instantly. His kiss this time is heavy and hot and everything but gentle. There’s something disgustingly erotic about being able to taste yourself on his tongue. It makes you crave him. 

“In. Kats, in .” You can't even speak full sentences, only one thing on your mind. “In!”

“Yeah, okay— fuck okay” he huffs, pulling his dick out and palming it. Like the rest of his body, his cock stands with a pink flush. You’d call it pretty to tease if you weren't salivating at the sight. Instead you grab at him, to help line him up. 

He holds it there for a moment. Just outside your pulsing entrance. You reach out to rub his arm, hoping to ease his hesitance. 

It’s utterly confusing.  

Feeling him enter you, from both your perspective and his. In fact it’s a little frightening. Neither of you can hide how much it fucks with your heads.Your eyes squeeze shut and you can feel his hands fist the sheet beside you. There's a wetness along your eyelashes, a stutter in his breath. It’s all too much. 

A warm hand upon your forehead brings you back to reality. Katsuki pushes your hair out the way, and brings his lips down to kiss you. If you weren’t already in tears, you’d probably start crying all over again. It’s too sweet of a gesture. A kiss to the forehead. Something hidden begins to warm in your chest. 

“Don’t…” You gasp. “Don’t fuck me like it means something.”

His expression shifts into something pitiful. 

“You’re an idiot.” He says through kisses. “If you can’t see it, you’re an idiot.”

“What.” You whine. 

“You think I don’t care for you?” Kissing a tear away, he explains. “You think I’d do this shit for anyone?”

“[Name]” He kisses off the pout that forms on your lips. “I fucking like you.”

Its like everything stops. Then everything bursts. Fuck . He likes you. The same way you’ve been pretending you don’t this whole time.

“Shit.” Katsuki recoils at the silence. “I shouldn’t—”

This time it's you who cuts him off from spiralling, kissing him and pushing your hips closer. He reaches deeper and though it’s so so much, you wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world. 

The two of you are quick to find a rhythm, intrinsically linked and sickeningly pleasurable. It should be overwhelming, but his hand in yours keeps you grounded. His presence protects you. 

When he hits a particular spot inside you, you jolt in surprise. And Katsuki whines. Actually whines. His voice at a foreign pitch. He doesn’t let you anticipate his next thrust, for he pushes back instantly, hitting that spot over and over again. 

It’s a sticky mess of needy sobs and heavy breaths, bodies pressed together with heavy desire. He doesn’t have to wonder how good you feel, he knows . So when something bubbles up inside of you, he’s quick to chase it. 

“Gonna…” You can hardly get the words out, not that you need to. 

He responds by letting his fingers trail down and over your clit. His circles are impatient, taking, and you’d laugh at how spoilt he was, if you weren’t enjoying it so badly yourself. 

It’s when he brings his lips down to yours one last time, does everything finally topple over. 

It absolutely shatters you. 

One orgasm alone is enough, but having two? Of both male and female? It’s devastating. It whites out your vision, blocks out any sound— all you can feel is the rapture that comes from the two of you. 

It takes a good few minutes for either of you to calm down and unattach yourselves. But even then you cling to him, wanting him as close as possible. He gives in despite his own fatigue, holding you while his fingers run up and down your arm to soothe. You don’t even realise the quirk has faded, your bodies in sync with or without. 

“Could get addicted…” Katsuki breaks the silence first, a small chuckle in his words. “Women are fucking lucky.”

You’re finally starting to notice the way you can no longer feel your own body through his and look at him with sympathy. You give him a pitiful pat— the wonders of the female body, he would never forget it.

You sit in his embrace a little longer, ignoring him shuffle about when your phone starts to ring. The screen lights up to his contact, but before you can question why, he speaks.

“I’m still ‘Bakugou [work]?’” 

It takes a moment for you to understand what he’s talking about and when you do, you laugh. 

“And a picture from the site?” He frowns, pinching your cheek. “Seriously?”

“Bet you don’t even have one for me.” 

“Yes I fucking do.” Katsuki shoves his phone in your face. 

And true to his word, he does in fact have a photo for you. It’s one you’re surprised he even has. It isn’t snagged off a news article, or even one of those fansites that for some reason existed— it’s a picture of the two of you, a candid Kirishima was probably responsible for.

“Why’d you pick that.” You snort, zooming into the photo. “You can barely see me.”

Katsuki shoves his chin down to your shoulder before snatching back his phone. “You looked cute.” He mumbles. “Tha’s all.”

There’s a conversation to be had, even if you’re hesitant. You put on a brave face and ask.

“You really like me, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” 

“Fine I won’t tell you how I really like you.”

Katsuki nudges you with his cheek, and when you peek over at him, there’s a resting pink under his skin. 

He can be so cute sometimes. You wonder if anyone else has seen him like this. 

Then you remember. 

“What about that girl?!” You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but you’re sure the unprompted pout that comes with your words says enough.

“You’re jealous?” Katsuki teases, you feel the smile against your skin. Then it turns into a little frown. “What about you and…” He can’t even say it. 

“We haven’t done anything!” You correct him immediately. “We’ve only made out.” 

“Oh shut up, don’t tell me.” He grumbles, grabbing your chin to guide your mouth to his. “You’re mine now.” He’s asking, begging even, you can tell. “Okay?””

You smile and swerve his next kiss, shaking your head. “Maybe take me on a date first.” 

“I was going to—” He looks a bit scandalised, you didn’t realise he could be so traditional. “Fuck off I was.”

“So what made you wait.” You shouldn’t push, but it’s fun to watch his fluster. “The sex?”

“Could feel you doing everything.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, realising your game. “Like you were under my fuckin’ skin.”

“And that turned you on?” 

He reaches out to cup your breasts. “Of course that shit turned me on. ‘Was like my own hand.” He squeezes. “Cant blame a man.”

You realise only now is he finally touching you on his own. Without your sensations overriding his. You let him have his fascination. You don’t stop his hands from exploring.

Instead you sink into his curiosity, a little interested yourself to see how far it’ll go.

Haiii I hope the concept isn’t confusing, tried to make it make sense 🤾🏽

[quitesins]

HIS NEW MYTH???

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HIS NEW MYTH???

[quitesins]

HIS NEW MYTH???

[quitesins]

CALEB BDAY STARTED FOR ME!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SILLIEST GUY!!! 🎉🎉

[quitesins]

[quitesins]

The trope of a character forgetting someone important to them but still being able to tell something is missing from themselves is so so good.

[quitesins]

Not a damn thought in their heads… 💔

[quitesins]

the sooner people understand x reader as a literary device and not a blank slate for you get mad at for not actually being a blank slate, the more fun we’ll all have. the reader-insert will never be a perfect empty canvas. even without character and world motivation it’s just the sheer fact that these things are written by imperfect humans—some of them do it better than others but all of them will leave their dirty filthy thumbprints on ur precious mirror of a entryway, that’s literally just how creation works. it will never perfectly include everyone, it’s not meant to, they work exactly the same as other characters—the degree to which you relate to them will depend on the story, what they do, and who’s writing it (and you who’s reading it, of course).

[quitesins]

Omg. Even though they grew up together, Caleb is still a little self conscious about his appearance around Mc.

[quitesins]

Prince!Shouto x Writer/Artist!Reader

Masterlist

Sfw, Female!Reader, Fantasy Au, random thought that I just wanted out of my head, mind the typos! Dialogue under the cut!

You’re a writer/artist, gaining quick popularity across the kingdom due to the satirical works you put out, particularly the ones where you satirise The King.

Your pieces are doing numbers. Sung in pubs, tacked to every board in town, even shoved into the arms of royal guards who can’t do anything but stand at their post and take it.

And you’re beaming, practically swimming in money and praise. You let a bit of it get to your head, suddenly dismissive of any consequences that come with mocking the royal family. Especially with your foreign pen name, feeling safe signing the end of each work while cozied up in your little house hidden away in the forest… that is until you get a knock on the door and… it’s The Prince.

[Or Shouto, crown prince, can barely hold in his laugh every time his father calls a meeting to discuss the crudely drawn pictures of him being pasted around the city. And god the first time he heard one of your poems? Being read aloud in the formal voice of one of the guards? It wasn’t just Shouto who had to excuse himself from the table, but his mother too, trailing behind him with a soft smile on her face.

He makes sure the guards keep any of the flyers that make their way into the castle, citing it as “evidence,” crucial to the investigations. Really he just takes them to his room, gleefully pinning them up. Even taking comfort in them on particularly cruel training nights.

He’s never been malicious, but when it comes to his father, he can be quite testy. Petulant for good reason. Your drawings of his father, the harsh scribbles accompanied by wretched songs, somehow he feels seen. Like the awful hate in his heart is warm and somewhere appreciated.

Shouto also thinks the way you draw his father as just a massive rectangle with two deeply furrowed brows is really funny.]

“You know…” Shouto speaks, unintentionally solemn. You prepare to be scolded on instinct. “You’ve drawn my hair on the wrong side.”

In his hand he raises the crumpled remains of one of your works. Even with the paper having seen better days, it’s undeniably yours— with it’s infamous juts of ink, harsh lines and messy splashes of colour thrown across the page. In your handwriting, there’s a vulgar poem captioning the drawing. Implying the prince to be a bastard, with a women killing smile and a surprisingly impish attitude.

Your signature printed in bright red ink probably doesn’t help your case either.

“The scar is accurate howe—”

“Give me that.” You snatch the flyer from him, crumpling it into your hand and tightening around it.

Shouto doesn’t protest, seemingly entertained by your sudden shyness. The words of [Pen Name] have been always been so crass, he had never expected you to hold such embarrassment. He doesn’t want you to, but he finds it amusing all the same.

“Look.” You don’t like his smile, it’s too soft, earnest. “If you’re here to execute me just do it!” There’s a wobble in your voice when you speak. Not from genuine fear of death, instead you sound like a sulking child. “I can’t imagine the king would send his son for any other reason..”

“Shouto,” He prompts. “I’d like it if you called me Shouto.” In the blink of an eye, in front of you is another flyer. “See.” He points to the picture of him, his name written in massive letters underneath.

“How many do you have,” You groan, snatching the paper from him again. His little disappointed pout feels like a win, it must have been his last. “Then why are you here?”

Shouto stares as if he doesn’t quite know himself. His eyes glaze over you, your cluttered room and to where you fists have finally softened in their grip. Then, like a spark alights behind his eyes, he smiles, responding with blunt determination.

“To be your friend.”

I wishhh I had the brain power to write full fics coz this au is so fun to think about… maybe if the fantasising gets too big to stay in my head I’ll write drabbles of random nonchronological scenarios, or not!

[quitesins]

Pro Hero!Bakugou x Criminal!Reader

Masterlist | Pt.2

Tags: Sfw, Drabble?, Pro Hero!Bakugou, Criminal!Reader, Female!reader, Reader is implied to be younger and homeless, dialogue heavy, ooc?

This happens a right after the events of vol 42/the epilogue, this is sort of a snapshot of an already established dynamic in my head

“You look miserable.”

He seems surprised to see you. Which is weird. Dynamight has always been so hyper aware of his surroundings, especially when you, half-criminal, half-comrade, show up.

“Piss off.” Dynamight grunts, locking the doors to his car and turning away from you. His expression is as frustrated as ever, but there’s something solemn underneath.

“You get rejected?” It’s just a joke, but he stiffens like you’ve hit the mark. “Holy shit, you did?” You can’t let him go, not with this in your pocket now.

He pushes past, albeit gentler than the times you’ve felt him body check you before. He grumbles something, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” He’s at his door now, and though you’ve already trespassed far into his front garden, it feels a bit invasive to peer into his home. “I just never expected you to be interested in that stuff.”

Dynamight’s keys jingle in the silence where he doesn’t answer, his door opens and as always you look away. He stands too still for a second too long, then sighs, turning to invite you in.

You tilt your head, eyeing him warily. He doesn’t let you ruminate or even ask, his hand on yours, tugging you in himself.

You’ve only ever been in the doorway, so following him past the foyer, taking your shoes off like you’re about to get comfortable, feels strange and unnerving.

Dynamight slumps onto his couch, head tilted back and eyes scrunched closed. You stand there awkwardly, suddenly aware of how different his life is to yours.

His house is nice. Decorated like a magazine, tidier than you’d expect from a bachelor. His tv looks expensive and even the open kitchen you can see in your peripheral, is stocked top to bottom in gadgets you know cost more than anything you own.

“Stop gawking.” Dynamight’s voice, for the first time, startles you. “‘M not offering you tea.”

“I wasn’t— shut up!” You like bothering him, but this time you become defensive. “Why am I here?”

“Yeah?” Dynamight snorts, an eye winking open to look you over. “Why are you?”

It must be something psychological, to have you in his space for once. You like to spook him when he’s on missions, at stores you could only steal from, and even at the cafe by his agency he likes to frequent. But this is his home. His living room. This isn’t the no man’s land of public space. Where it’s easy for you to dominate, since he’s got a reputation (barely) and all sorts of hero rules to follow.

You straighten your back, pulling a usb out your pocket and throwing it at him, without force but in the direction of his head. “You wanted intel.”

“And you couldn’t have waited till the morning?” He scoffs, catching the thing before it hits his face. “Gone to the agency?”

“Unless you grant me full immunity.” You shrug, knowing he won’t.

“Fat chance.” Dynamight inspects the usb. “This not gonna brick up my entire computer?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at you like you’re stupid. “I just took it.”

Dynamight frowns, then pulls out a case from under his coffee table. You’re still standing there uncomfortably, so he rolls his eyes and prompts you to get close. You don’t like following his order, and you can tell he isn’t used to it either. Normally you’re the one openly pushing past his personal space, listening to nothing he says. You lean on the back of his sofa, peering over his shoulder.

The case opens to a laptop, one that uses his fingerprint to unlock. You watch curiously as he taps away at something you don’t understand, before pushing the usb in and lighting up the screen in new colours.

Dynamight becomes quiet, focussed as he sifts through files and documents you still don’t get. You had wanted to continue on your prodding and ask why he looked like such a misery tonight, but his intensity makes it difficult to interrupt.

“Fucking hell.” Dynamight sounds almost in awe. “Where the hell did you get this.”

“I just took it.” You’re petulant. “I said.”

“[Name].” The hero’s body turns, and he stares with new authority. “Don’t piss me off.”

You feel small. Even with you standing over him, even with him in his casual wear, you’re reminded he’s a hero. One that lets you get away with a lot, but still a man of power you could never fight.

“Who rejected you?” You’re brattish. “You didn’t say.”

The non sequitur pisses him off, but he doesn’t want to have you running. “It wasn’t— Deku. I asked him to join my agency.”

That somehow makes you feel better. And equal. Like you’ve both just had terrible days.

“I saw him once. A friend, from when I was little, goes to UA.” You almost distract Dynamight with your reminiscing, but he catches it, frowning and prompting you to answer his original question.

“That guy you were tailing.” You remember a few months ago, recognising Dynamight in stealth gear, in a place where you hadn’t expected him to be. “The one with the red hair.” The descriptor makes something click in Dynamight’s head. His eyes go wide and wider with your next words. “He left a window open.” You shrug. “I snuck in.”

“Alone?” Dynamight wipes his head with his hands, frustrated. You think you’ve done something wrong. “Do you have any idea how—”

“I can take it back!” Interrupting him, you reach out to snatch the usb. You feel scolded and it stings.

He grabs your wrist before you can, you look at him with such sourness and he sighs. “Just… don’t do it again. Leave the hero work to me.”

You’re still pouting, embarrassed.

“You did good. Okay?” His hands give yours a squeeze. “You did really fucking good.” A part of you wants that, his approval, but you pull away anyways.

“I have to go.” You’re already walking backwards to his corridor. He follows you though he knows can���t keep you any longer, he’s never been able to pin you down.

You shove your shoes on haphazardly, not caring about getting it on all the way. He has to unlock the door for you, but before he does he pulls his wallet out.

“How much?” There’s a few large notes in his hand. It’s jarring that he can walk around with so much cash in his pockets.

“Wait.” You stop him with your hands, shaking your head. “Can’t— not tonight— can’t have that much on me.”

Dynamight gives you a look, there’s pity in his eyes. He hesitates letting you go, shoving a 2000 yen note into your hands. “At least.”

The winter air hits you both when the door finally opens. It’s the kind that makes your muscles ache. You step out quickly, already making your way to the fence you hopped over to bother him in the first place.

Before you can lift yourself up, Bakugou calls out, voice uncomfortably gentle. “You got a place to sleep?”

“…No.”

Cut out of a second, there’s a moment where you think he’s wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods, letting you jump over his gate and run off, back into the night.

Because in my head there’s an already established dynamic, I can’t tell if this whole thing only makes sense to me since I don’t need it to be expressed in the details… I did try to add contextualising details but idkkkk eughhhh

[quitesins]

Under Your Skin

Masterlist | AO3

Tags: 18+, Nsfw, Smut, Oneshot, Timeskip!Bakugou, Female!Reader, Pro Hero!Reader, Frenemies to lovers, Sharing physical sensations, Explicit sexual content, Phone Sex, Masturbation, PiV sex, Jealousy, 5.8k

When you and Dynamight get hit by a quirk that forces you to share all your physical sensations, you learn a bit too much about the bastard… and yourself.

There’s a throbbing in your head, and your arm, and your neck. And when you finally start to regain consciousness, you feel there’s an even worse throbbing resting on your legs. Something weighted, pressing you down, only when you open your eyes do you finally realise—

It’s Dynamight, Bakugou, Katsuki— whatever. Splayed out so you're trapped underneath the lug of him. He starts to wake, and you see that as enough reason for him to be off, so you kick out and try to stand.

“Oi.” He groans, gripping onto your ankle before you can kick him again. “Stop that.”

“Get off me.” You don’t listen and try to whack him anyway. It’s the wrong response, he just grips harder.

“Fuckin— alright!” Bakugou scowls, his head clearly still pounding as he tries to move.

You pull away from him, shifting against the rubble and attempt to take in your surroundings. 

“Are you guys okay?!” A sudden brightness interrupts your vision, Red Riot, standing over the two of you, practically shouting. 

“Yes!” Both you and Bakugou hiss back, ears ringing at the sudden volume. 

“Took quite the fall there.” Kirishima reaches out to help you stand. Already sensing Bakugou ready to jump, he quickly adds “Don’t worry! We caught the villain. Everything’s fine, just gotta get you two checked up.” 

Bakugou stands on his own, refusing Kirishima’s hand, which the redhead just shrugs at. Instead, you thank Kirishima and let him assist you to the paramedics. 

Though the extra stability helps, your legs still ache and you watch Bakugou try mask a similar struggle. His teeth clench with each hobble and you feel a little bad, reaching out to him in pity… but you miscalculate your own balance and find yourself falling to the ground, scraping your knee against the concrete, hard. And that’s when something odd happens. 

Bakugou hisses out in pain too. 

He actually clutches his left knee, where yours bleeds. Really the pain isn’t anything new, nothing compared to what you’ve taken before, but for Bakugou to react to it.

The two of you lock eyes, for far too many seconds, not saying a word.

Then quickly and without warning— you both begin to hit and punch at your own bodies, looking for something . Kirishima watches, baffled, clearly having no clue at what the two of you are doing. 

“Close your fucking eyes” Bakugou orders and you listen, scrunching up. “Kirishima hit me.”

Kirishima doesn’t even get the opportunity to challenge as Bakugou demands him again to comply. Before you even hear the noise Bakugou lets out, you feel a hard fist thump into you. 

“I can feel it.” Your eyes snap open and you gasp, raising your left arm. “Holy shit. I can feel it.”

Bakugou stares back at you, eyes equally as wide as yours. 

You both shout simultaneously—

“FUCK!”

After patching you up, the health team run a few more tests, mostly just tapping away at random parts of your bodies and taking notes on your reactions. All it really does is confirm that yes, you and Bakugou Katsuki are sharing an entire nervous system. Down to each breath you take.

And because of that, you’re both given (forced in Bakugou’s case) two weeks off, trusted to deal with the quirk’s effects sensibly, like adults— heroes, should. 

It's quite strange, feeling parts of yourself move in ways they aren’t, but it isn’t the absolute worst. The smaller things, like the action of walking, are easy to ignore. It’s mainly the random pops of his quirk that gets to you, but even then it’s just a little twitch. 

The first time he showers, however, you let out a shriek. It’s completely cold and although you know there’s nothing on you, you feel drenched to the bone. 

You call him instantly and he laughs into your ear. 

“Fuck am I meant to do?” He snorts. “Not shower?”

“You could’ve at least texted!” You huff, shoving your key into the lock. “I was still on the way home, the whole street heard me scream.”

That’s what really gets him going, laughing so loud he drowns out the sound of his shower still hammering down in the background. His laugh is so rambunctious you don’t realise he’s walking back in, until you feel the waves of icy cold water crashing over you, again. 

“Katsuki!!!”

You’re lucky enough that Bakugou is meticulous, obsessive even, with a routine that never seems to waver. You’re quick to follow it, countering his insane 5am showers with your own warm and comfortable ones. 

He did text you once about it though, telling you to “Turn the fucking heat down,” and spamming some jabber about you being a “Damn demon” from the “Depths of hell.”

You also find he’s absolutely restless. When he isn’t pattering about cooking— you assume from the heat, or paperwork— you can tell by the familiarly repetitive motions, he’s exercising. All the damn time. It’s a little condescending actually. While you spend your break how it should be spent, being a lazy fuck, he’s up and doing too many crunches to count. And what’s worse is that you can more than feel the lunges and squats, it actually tires you out. Even though you know you won’t reap any of the benefits, you have to lay down and catch your breath.

The first time you texted him a stern “I’m going to sleep. Don’t do anything to wake me up.” But by the third day it seems he’d figured out your routine and was surprisingly respecting it. 

Maybe you give him too much credit.

Too hot. Everything is too hot. You’re not even awake enough to realise it’s your own skin that burns harshly, blood pumping wildly through your veins. Instead you go to kick off your blanket and attempt to roll out of bed.

And that’s when you feel it. 

It’s fucking bizarre . Although there’s nothing there you can feel exactly where a dick should be. You can feel how his hand slides up and down. You can feel the knot in his stomach. Everything is too real. 

You pray to yourself he’ll remember that his body isn’t just his right now! That you can feel each stroke of his thick fingers moving up and down. But he doesn’t stop, in anything he gets a little faster. 

Then comes the second sensation. The feeling is unmistakable. It’s a warm, wet, human mouth. Around you— or the phantom appendage— sucking gently and that’s when you know you have to stop it.

It's pretty hard to walk, when you’re practically being sucked off, but you manage to grab your phone and dial his number furiously. 

It rings once, then twice, and by the third time you know he’s ignoring you because the mouth stops and he smacks his own thigh, in turn yours .

The mouth resumes, and you’ve had enough. Grabbing your keys, trying your best not to keel over, you’re set on getting to his apartment, which for the first time you’re glad is actually nearby. 

The drive is torturous. Really, you know you shouldn’t be driving at all, not as you have to grip the steering wheel tight, in fear if you let go you’d spasm wildly. Whoever Bakugou had on their knees, was doing a really good fucking job. The bastard was seeing heaven while you were trying your very best not to land yourself in hell, because of the sin of mass murdering late night pedestrians you only just swerve by. 

Even the sporadic pinches to your thigh don’t deter him, instead he returns them with his own. All you can do is curse and hope the ceiling caves in. Or maybe the floor under him opens up— better yet if his dick were to entirely explode.

You’re utterly winded when you do finally reach his flat, knees nearly having buckled on the stairs up. When you get to his front door, you slam down hard .  

“Katsuki, open the fucking door.” You knock without restraint, not caring for the neighbors. “I swear to god if you don’t-“ 

The door opens just as you're about to thrash it again, almost having you topple in. You catch yourself, of course, but Bakugou snorts at the sight. 

“You couldn’t wait a fucking week?!” You shout before he can speak. 

You look at him, shirtless, skin flushed and dewy. His sweats hang low, just barely fumbled on, revealing the sharp muscles under his skin, and a little trail of light brown hair that you have to force your eyes to stop following.

If you weren’t so mad you’d probably enjoy the sight. That somehow ticks you off even more. 

“You seriously came all this way?” 

“You weren’t picking up your calls!” You huff. “And it’s not like you forgot about the quirk.” You gesture wildly to your thigh, probably purple from all the pinching. “You prick!”

“And what do you want me to do.” Bakugou gives you a look of annoyance, as if he was the one inconvenienced. “Stop everything because of you?”

“Yes?!” 

Bakugou then takes a step forward, suddenly looking taller. He towers over your form, with an intimidation you’re not often on the other side of. 

“Tough shit princess.” You feel the words against you. “Just ‘cause you’re not getting any, doesn’t mean I’m not.” 

You have to hold your tongue, clench your fists, and tense your arms, just so you don’t push him. Even without the quirk you were sure he could probably sense the anger building inside you. 

But then a thought hits you. 

Without saying a word, you slip your phone out your pocket and dial a number. Bakugou watches, confused but slightly curious. 

The phone only rings once before the call is picked up. Your face lightens animatedly, losing its scowl and turning into something dramatically sweet. 

“Izu…” You practically coo. “Are you free tonight?”

Bakugou’s face immediately drops at the name.

“Mhmm…” You hum. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You’re sure Bakugou can hear the man on the other end fluster but agree to what you’ve not-so subtly proposed. You give him a smug look before continuing. 

“That’s good to know…” You give Bakugou a smile, just to be dramatic. “I could wear that dress you really-“ 

You’re cut off as Bakugou grabs your wrist, pressing end call and glaring at you. 

“You wouldn’t.” He growls.

“Oh but I would.” You smile back, making sure to bare your teeth.

The two of you come to a standstill, waiting for the other to break the silence. It’s actually Bakugou who speaks first, finally yielding. 

“Fucking fine!” Exasperated, he huffs. “Fuck, I’ll send her home.”

The smug look on your face comes to a quick halt as a realisation dawns upon you.

“I don’t know her do I?” You grab him and ask with genuine dread. “Katsuki, tell me I don’t know her.”

He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, enjoying the sight of you panicked.

“Katsuki!!”

“You don’t.” He waves you off. “Just a hookup.”

That surprises you. “Didn’t know you do hookups.”

“Didn’t know you were fucking Deku.” He spits it out like a slur. You’re not quite sure why though, you could’ve sworn they’d gotten over their childhood beef. 

“I’m not.” You shrug. “But I could.” 

Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, defeated and ready to kick the girl out. It’s a bit awkward now that you think of it. Neither him nor whoever was in his room right now had… gotten their release. 

Not enthusiastic about watching him break a poor girl's heart, you turn to leave, it’s at the exact same time Bakugou goes to return, and brushes his— still very much sensitive— dick against the door. 

“Shit.” You gasp as your legs jelly. It’s like a punch to the gut, sending shockwaves through your stomach. 

Bakugou catches you by the arm before you can fall, then sighs.“Come inside. You can’t drive home like that.” 

You follow him in, not making a fight,  as if you could with the way your legs had weakened. You’ve been to his apartment before, many times, but mostly with others. So you’re not sure why there’s a sudden tension that doesn’t feel like frustration anymore. You just hope Bakugou can’t feel the way your tummy continues to flutter. 

Bakugou returns, and there’s a twitch of something green in your chest when you see the women beside him. You don’t mean to stare, she’s decent at least, but you can’t help it. You try not to acknowledge that one of your first thoughts is to compare her to yourself, and feel disappointed at the lack of similarity. 

You stop mentally analysing her when she shies away from your gaze. She looks guilty. And although, yes the situation is mortifying, you’re not sure why she looks so terribly remorseful. If anything it’s you that should be apologetic— and Bakugou most certainly. 

She squeaks out a quick “Sorry” alongside a “I didn’t know” as she gathers up her stuff. Then she glares straight at Bakugou and flicks him off. That’s when it registers. 

“Oh god no, not his girlfriend!” You correct quickly. “Definitely not the girlfriend.”

You don’t notice how Bakugou’s resting frown deepens. 

The woman looks perplexed, but decides not to question it. You hear Bakugou give his own apology as he takes her to the door, attesting to the fact he wasn’t cheating. Still you feel a little bad watching her leave. 

“Make sure to call her back and explain okay?” You’re a moralist, what can you say.

“Shut up.” Bakugou groans, making his way to his open kitchen. “Catch.” He throws you a bottle of water, still cold from the fridge. “Drink and rest a bit.”

You eye him cautiously. Why is he showing courtesy now.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Bakugou huffs, then turns his head away. There’s an expression you just about catch, that seems kind of… does he feel bad?

And for some reason that just makes you feel sheepish. Enough so that you have to turn away and focus on your water instead. 

“Thought you were asleep at first.” There’s foreign sounding guilt in his voice. “And the quirk should’ve worn down by now.”

“Well it hasn’t.” You scoff, pointing a finger directly at him. “Don’t pull any shit like that again.”

Bakugou keeps to his word. He doesn’t fuck— or half fuck anyone else. Instead, his workouts become harsher, his routine now erratic. You can’t keep countering his cold morning showers, when he’s taking three a day and going straight back to the cardio as soon as he’s out. But you don’t dare ask him to cool it, you were the reason for all his pent up energy after all. 

When your knuckles start to ache due to his new found interest in boxing, he at least has the decency to text you a blunt sorry. 

“Don’t you have any other hobbies you can waste your time with.” With your phone lodged between your head and shoulder, you scold him. “I started cooking— ah !” You hiss as some oil spits at you.

“You’re lucky I’m used to explosions.” Bakugou snorts, amused. “You’re clearly doing a shit job, turn the fucking heat down.”

“Fuck off.” You turn the heat down. “My food’s gonna be perfect!”

“Hah, doubt it.”

“You can taste it yourself!” You say with a pop, licking some sauce that had gotten on your finger. “Already so good! You’ll see.”

You feel him suck in a breath but stay silent on the line. 

“Why’d you call if you were gonna ignore me.”

“M’not.” His words come out a little mumbled. “Just, gonna go take a shower.”

“Oh!” You shove a lid onto your pan. “Let me get in too!”

He kisses his teeth at that. You don’t question why he’s annoyed. 

The water hums comfortably over you. It’s nice and warm— not too warm, rather not risk another spam of texts— and it’s exactly what you needed after a day of dealing with Bakugou’s intense workouts. 

You can vaguely feel his own cold shower under yours, but for the most part, the heat does well to cancel it out. You’re used to ignoring when Bakugou cleans his thighs. Even if you can feel his thick fingers like they’re actually on you. The same way the hot water counters his cold, you clean alongside him, to pretend all you can feel is your own hands. Brushing your fingers through your hair, you go through the rest of your routine. Making sure to thoroughly scrub at all your curves.

He’s out before you are, telling by the way your water suddenly feels much warmer. Your phone flashes from the counter, Bakugou texting you to hurry the hell up, and you take that as cue to finish. 

You’re slow with your moisturising, slathering it on and massaging it into your skin. Bakugou pinches you through himself. You wonder why but ignore it and just get dressed. 

He doesn’t text you again, instead feeling uncharacteristically still. Perhaps he’d gone to sleep? You snap him a picture of your dish anyways, if he won’t taste it he can get a good look at least. You’re about to dig in when a familiar sensation builds between your legs.

He’s— he’s fucking touching himself again—

Immediately, you go to text him, but his contact pops up first. 

Bakugou [work]: It’s okay. 

Bakugou [work]: It’s just me.

Bakugou [work]: Let me have this

You’re not even sure how to respond, but you do end up abandoning your meal and take seat on your sofa. 

Me: it’s so weird 

Me: I can feel everything 

He spits on his hand, the wetness gross. Yet you can’t seem to hate it. 

Bakugou [work]: you think I can’t feel you?

Bakugou [work]: soaping yourself up? Touching your fucking tits?

You’re lucky he can’t see you. You’d be embarrassed out of your mind. Maybe because it was nothing unusual to you, you had forgotten it would feel different to a man. 

His text bubble appears once, then disappears and appears again. Finally he continues.

Bakugou [work]: just go to sleep if it bothers you so much

His hands still stroke himself but a little languidly, as if to give you option to ignore it. You don’t. 

Me: how am I supposed to sleep if you’re doing that!

His hands still, you can just imagine his laugh. 

Bakugou [work]: think of it like a massage 

He starts up again.

Bakugou [work]: I can tell you like it

Your body betrays you and he knows.

Me: you’re an asshole

Just as you send the message you feel his hands thumb his tip and the sharp feeling of pleasure that comes with it. It’s embarrassing that your first thought is so that’s how he likes it.  

Bakugou does it once more before returning back to stroke his shaft. The pace he sets is dangerously addictive. It works him up and in turn you. You’re almost keeling when you send your next text. 

Me: Fuck it

He types again but you pay no mind, shoving your free hand down your trousers and brushing over your clit. You rub gently for a second but with your slick having gathered and spread, you realise it’s not enough. 

A text flashes on screen as you press finger into yourself. You feel Katsuki tense. 

Bakugou [work]: easy pr incess

You don’t go easy. Instead you rub at your clit faster, one finger still dipping into you. Katsuki pinches his thigh, which you ignore and continue.

Then your screen flashes a different image. A picture of Dynamight, ripped straight from your company’s website, his contact photo. 

“Fuck-“ You sigh, picking up the call. “What is it.”

“You complain and then start touching yourself?” Bakugou accuses, not letting up his own pumps.

The faint slick noises in the background of his words, makes your stomach do flips. The sudden image of his cock wet and dripping now at the forefront of your mind. You don’t realise how your own moments get faster, but Bakugou does. 

“Oi.” He pants. “Slow the fuck down.”

“Are you about to come?” You let out a breathy laugh. “So fast?”

The reply you get is a harsh pinch to your nipple, one that makes you arch a little. It feels good. 

“Shit, you liked that?” Bakugou says, in a voice that practically speaks his smirk. He pinches again and this time you really moan.

“Stop it.” you whine, pushing your fingers in again, rutting against your hand. 

“Why?” Bakugou does it again and again, making you push into your hand, deeper. “You— fuck— you really like it.”

“Katsuki.”

You feel a sharp tug of pleasure, from him. 

“Oh…” you giggle. “And do you like it when I call your n-name?”

“Shut—“ he hisses, thumbing his tip, “—the fuck up.”

“Are you sure you want that?” You tease, touching yourself the way you know your body, and his, will enjoy. “Ka-tsu-ki.” 

He only responds with a deep groan, something that edges a whine. You didn’t think you could get more turned on.

“Like you’re not getting wet when I talk to you, princess .”

Now that has your tummy twisting, stomach sinking with growing lust. Your body clenches around your fingers without permission, and you can’t even attempt to hold the moan. 

“Shit,that made you fuckin’ squeeze .” He huffs, hands getting faster. “Ke-keep doing that.” He says as you work your fingers well. “Fuck . Feels so fucking good sweetheart.”

You comply, fully knowing you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. Each stroke of his, paired with your indulgence, just brings you closer and closer to—

“Kats’— I’m gonna—“

“Fuck, me too [Name], me too .” His breaths are erratic and so are the wet sounds of his cock. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to come. Especially with how pent up he, and evidently you had been. It’s sort of magic, how you can feel the exact moment where the coil in him snaps, and how it dominoes onto you, forcing you to come with him. 

So blissed out, it takes a while for everything to catch up with you. The same goes for Bakugou.

“We shoul…” 

“Do you want to…”

You both start at the same time, and stop, embarrassed by what you want to suggest. 

There’s silence that feels like it burns, you’re not used to the heat like he is. You need it gone.

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

As you drive the nerves start to rise. Perhaps it’s knowing you’re going over for sex . It isn’t like the random visits you’ve made before that end in you staying a little longer, this is specific. 

You’re going over to have sex with Bakugou Katsuki.

Standing in front of his apartment you nearly turn back, his door somehow intimidatingly tall, too hard to knock. 

You don’t get to run however, not when Bakugou opens it immediately. 

He stands there, freshly showered, in only a tank and shorts. He looks fucking good.

“You just gonna stand there?” 

“Shut up” You push past him and take off your coat. He watches, entertained by your familiarity and the polite way you take off your shoes and line them up neatly.

“Youre being weird” Bakugou observes. “Its just me”

It ticks you off a little how casual he’s being. As if it means nothing, that the night before meant nothing, that what you’re about to do means nothing. 

“Oi, what is it?” Bakugou is quick to sense your apprehension.

“How are you being so normal about this,” you hiss. “do you even want to…” It’s hard to admit you’re nervous. “Do it…”

Bakugou looks at you, baffled. Which you return with a scowl. It’s like he can see the wheels turning in your head because before you can even open your mouth to speak, he's kissing you. 

His mouth is warm against yours, surprisingly soft for all the venom that leaves it. It’s also surprisingly sweet, he kisses you like it would hurt to pull away. 

“Been thinking about you all day,” he groans with the breath he takes. “All fucking day, Angel”

His hands roam and squeeze and when you place yours on him he almost whines. Mouthing at your neck, his fingers trail downwards, to cup you through your skirt. 

“You think I don’t want this?”

There’s a second where he stills, asking for your silent go ahead, and when you push into his hands he takes that glady. His fingers rub over your underwear, easily finding your clit and pressing firmly. He feels it in him, how sensitive you are, and he has to take a breath to calm down. 

Slowly you feel him pull away, and he has to gently shush you before continuing.

“Why are you teasing me.” You don’t mean to pout.

“M’not.” He hums, lowering down your body with kisses over your clothes. “Just let me taste you.” 

He’s on his knees before you can dispute, pushing his way under your skirt and ripping straight through your underwear. Bakugou just nips at your thigh when you give him a reprimanding tug. 

You’re swollen and wet, pulsing in front of his eyes. Slick clings to your folds and he stares at the way your pussy almost glimmers for him. 

And when you look down, he’s his own sight to behold.

Dynamight, on his knees, flushed with kiss swollen lips. His hair is messy, sticking to his forehead, a debauched reminder of the moisture that clings to him. His eyes are blown out, only a small ring of red circling his glittering pupils. You can see all of desire in him. You think you could stare at him forever.

But Bakugou has never been a patient man, and he doesn’t let you any longer. He attaches his mouth over you without warning. 

There isn’t the soft beginnings of timid kisses and shy licks, he is indulgent. Voracious in the way he eats you out. It’s selfish. He seeks his own pleasure through you. 

 “You like this more than me.”

He winks an eye open and then rolls it.

 “If I knew this shit felt so good I’d do it more.” He murmurs before diving straight back in.

Knowing exactly how and where it feels good, Bakugou had been given the ultimate cheat sheet to a woman’s body. The first cheat sheet he was ever intent on using.

“Kats…” You still hold reservations, not wanting to admit you’re getting close. “If you keep…”

He moans into you. “I know .”

He speeds up, disregarding any of your pleas to slow down. You realise he wants you to come. All over his face, all over him . He doesn’t hesitate in making it clear that he’ll have you coming undone right here, right now.

You can feel it in your own hair, how tightly you pull on his. It's masochistic how that makes the coil in you wind even worse. Katsuki takes that as encouragement to continue. 

It hits you quickly, and it’s embarrassing how you gush all over him. Without shame, Bakugou smiles into your still spasming pussy.

“Fuck.” Finally steadying his breaths, Bakugou groans. Still on his knees, you’re afraid to look down at the mess you’ve made. 

“Did you…” you ask, feeling a little selfish. 

“No.” He shakes his head, scrambling up to stand. “But I gotta be inside of you, now .”

Not another word can be said before he hoists you up onto his shoulder. You can’t even fathom the sudden change in height as he barrages through his flat and throws you, albeit gently, onto his bed. You nearly kick him at the audacity until you catch the darkening reds of his eyes.

Oh he’s going to ruin you. 

Bakugou pulls off his shirt, body overrun with heat, and is on top of you almost instantly. His kiss this time is heavy and hot and everything but gentle. There’s something disgustingly erotic about being able to taste yourself on his tongue. It makes you crave him. 

“In. Kats, in .” You can't even speak full sentences, only one thing on your mind. “In!”

“Yeah, okay— fuck okay” he huffs, pulling his dick out and palming it. Like the rest of his body, his cock stands with a pink flush. You’d call it pretty to tease if you weren't salivating at the sight. Instead you grab at him, to help line him up. 

He holds it there for a moment. Just outside your pulsing entrance. You reach out to rub his arm, hoping to ease his hesitance. 

It’s utterly confusing.  

Feeling him enter you, from both your perspective and his. In fact it’s a little frightening. Neither of you can hide how much it fucks with your heads.Your eyes squeeze shut and you can feel his hands fist the sheet beside you. There's a wetness along your eyelashes, a stutter in his breath. It’s all too much. 

A warm hand upon your forehead brings you back to reality. Katsuki pushes your hair out the way, and brings his lips down to kiss you. If you weren’t already in tears, you’d probably start crying all over again. It��s too sweet of a gesture. A kiss to the forehead. Something hidden begins to warm in your chest. 

“Don’t…” You gasp. “Don’t fuck me like it means something.”

His expression shifts into something pitiful. 

“You’re an idiot.” He says through kisses. “If you can’t see it, you’re an idiot.”

“What.” You whine. 

“You think I don’t care for you?” Kissing a tear away, he explains. “You think I’d do this shit for anyone?”

“[Name]” He kisses off the pout that forms on your lips. “I fucking like you.”

Its like everything stops. Then everything bursts. Fuck . He likes you. The same way you’ve been pretending you don’t this whole time.

“Shit.” Katsuki recoils at the silence. “I shouldn’t—”

This time it's you who cuts him off from spiralling, kissing him and pushing your hips closer. He reaches deeper and though it’s so so much, you wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world. 

The two of you are quick to find a rhythm, intrinsically linked and sickeningly pleasurable. It should be overwhelming, but his hand in yours keeps you grounded. His presence protects you. 

When he hits a particular spot inside you, you jolt in surprise. And Katsuki whines. Actually whines. His voice at a foreign pitch. He doesn’t let you anticipate his next thrust, for he pushes back instantly, hitting that spot over and over again. 

It’s a sticky mess of needy sobs and heavy breaths, bodies pressed together with heavy desire. He doesn’t have to wonder how good you feel, he knows . So when something bubbles up inside of you, he’s quick to chase it. 

“Gonna…” You can hardly get the words out, not that you need to. 

He responds by letting his fingers trail down and over your clit. His circles are impatient, taking , and you’d laugh at how spoilt he was, if you weren’t enjoying it so badly yourself. 

It’s when he brings his lips down to yours one last time, does everything finally topple over. 

It absolutely shatters you. 

One orgasm alone is enough, but having two? Of both male and female? It’s devastating. It whites out your vision, blocks out any sound— all you can feel is the rapture that comes from the two of you. 

It takes a good few minutes for either of you to calm down and unattach yourselves. But even then you cling to him, wanting him as close as possible. He gives in despite his own fatigue, holding you while his fingers run up and down your arm to soothe. You don’t even realise the quirk has faded, your bodies in sync with or without. 

“Could get addicted…” Katsuki breaks the silence first, a small chuckle in his words. “Women are fucking lucky.”

You’re finally starting to notice the way you can no longer feel your own body through his and look at him with sympathy. You give him a pitiful pat— the wonders of the female body, he would never forget it.

You sit in his embrace a little longer, ignoring him shuffle about when your phone starts to ring. The screen lights up to his contact, but before you can question why, he speaks.

“I’m still ‘Bakugou [work]?” 

It takes a moment for you to understand what he’s talking about and when you do, you laugh. 

“And a picture from the site?” He frowns, pinching your cheek. “Seriously?”

“Bet you don’t even have one for me.” 

“Yes I fucking do.” Katsuki shoves his phone in your face. 

And true to his word, he does in fact have a photo for you. It’s one you’re surprised he even has. It isn’t snagged off a news article, or even one of those fansites that for some reason existed— it’s a picture of the two of you, a candid Kirishima was probably responsible for.

“Why’d you pick that.” You snort, zooming into the photo. “You can barely see me.”

Katsuki shoves his chin down to your shoulder before snatching back his phone. “You looked cute.” He mumbles. “Tha’s all.”

There’s a conversation to be had, even if you’re hesitant. You put on a brave face and ask.

“You really like me, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” 

“Fine I won’t tell you how I really like you.”

Katsuki nudges you with his cheek, and when you peek over at him, there’s a resting pink under his skin. 

He can be so cute sometimes. You wonder if anyone else has seen him like this. 

Then you remember. 

“What about that girl?!” You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but you’re sure the unprompted pout that comes with your words says enough.

“You’re jealous?” Katsuki teases, you feel the smile against your skin. Then it turns into a little frown. “What about you and…” He can’t even say it. 

“We haven’t done anything!” You correct him immediately. “We’ve only made out.” 

“Oh shut up, don’t tell me.” He grumbles, grabbing your chin to guide your mouth to his. “You’re mine now.” He’s asking, begging even, you can tell. “Okay?””

You smile and swerve his next kiss, shaking your head. “Maybe take me on a date first.” 

“I was going to—” He looks a bit scandalised, you didn’t realise he could be so traditional. “Fuck off I was.”

“So what made you wait.” You shouldn’t push, but it’s fun to watch his fluster. “The sex?”

“Could feel you doing everything.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, realising your game. “Like you were under my fuckin’ skin.”

“And that turned you on?” 

He reaches out to cup your breasts. “Of course that shit turned me on. ‘Was like my own hand.” He squeezes. “Cant blame a man.”

You realise only now is he finally touching you on his own. Without your sensations overriding his. You let him have his fascination. You don’t stop his hands from exploring.

Instead you sink into his curiosity, a little interested yourself to see how far it’ll go.

Haiii I hope the concept isn’t confusing, tried to make it make sense 🤾🏽

[quitesins]

Haven’t posted a full fic in ages guys I’m so scared…