rileytwenty - Tumblr blog

rileytwenty · 27 days ago

Text

melting

pairing: ot8 x reader

word count: 4k

summary: you're invited on a cabin getaway with ot8, and you just can't not be their soft spot. they love you so bad.

tags: reverse harem vibe; fluff, soft moments with each member, tiny hurt/comfort if you squint. chubby!reader—requested!

🩷: i just want to note that on the topic of body types in my works, none of my other works have implications of physiques, appearances, heights, etc. i don’t want to give the impression that because this work specifically is a chubby main character as requested - all my other works have skinny/other body type main characters.

there is no sort of (work) is for x body type and (other work) is for y body type on my page. everyone is included! you are beautiful no matter what your body type is. and i won’t tolerate any kind of negativity toward any body. now enjoy this story! thanks for your request x

The drive up had been quiet, surprisingly. The kind of quiet wrapped in the kind of peaceful hush that only winter could bring. Snow gathered like frosting along the tree branches, glittering under a pale, endless sky. When the cabin came into view — all cedar and stone, with smoke curling gently from the chimney — you felt something in your chest loosen.

It was secluded. Safe. Big enough for all of you to have a room to yourselves to breathe without drifting apart.

The others spilled inside ahead of you, boots thudding, laughter echoing off the beams as they explored. Jeongin called dibs on a room with the biggest window. Seungmin claimed the second-best room, just to spite Minho, who was walking from door-to-door, checking out each one. Someone turned on a speaker, and music drifted through the air tangling with the warmth.

You were the last one out of the van. Not on purpose, really — just taking a moment to let the moment seep in. Maybe to shake off the nerves, maybe to adjust your coat. Maybe because you still could not believe they had invited you on this trip in the first place.

But then the van door slid open again.

“Come on, angel,” Felix grinned over at you, curls falling over his forehead. “Your room’s got such a pretty window view and three blankets. I picked them myself and gave you the best ones.”

Grinning softly, you followed him out into the cold, your boots crunching against the snow. The others who had yet to run inside to claim a room were unloading bags and shouting across the clearing of the driveway.

You stood in the entryway of the cabin for a moment, frost clinging to the ends of your hair, and your arms wrapped tight around yourself — not because you were cold, but because you were trying to make yourself small. Like you always did when they were all around you. Not because they ever made you feel like you had to… but because sometimes it was hard to believe you didn’t have to.

Then came Chan, stepping behind you, the soft thump of his hand landing gently on your lower back, rubbing comfortingly.

“You okay?”

You nodded, not wanting to ruin the warm mood with your thoughts.

He didn’t press. Just gave that quiet little hum — the one he always gave when he wanted to say more but knew better — and took your bag from your hand like it was instinct. “Come on. They’re already fighting over who gets to cook for you first.”

Of course they were.

And you felt it then; how soft the air turned whenever their eyes landed on you, how it lingered. No one said it aloud. No one needed to. You were the only guest. The only one they had all invited, alongside the original eight. And something about that meant more than it should have.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the fire was crackling, hot chocolate was brewing, and you were on the couch with eight bodies stretched out around you in every direction. Not touching — not yet. But close. So close you could feel it in your fingertips.

And the way Seungmin handed you a pillow without speaking, the way Hyunjin’s hand brushed yours as he passed the marshmallows, the way Chan lingered a moment too long in the doorway before flicking the lights off for the night.

It made you feel peaceful, soft, and comfortable.

The cabin had gone quiet hours ago. Everyone else had drifted off — some to bedrooms, some still snoring softly from the living room floor — but you had not been able to sleep.

So you wandered to the kitchen. Barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, trailing your fingers along the edges of counters you barely recognized in the dark.

You had just opened the fridge when you heard it: soft footsteps behind you.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Jeongin asked, voice scratchy from tiredness.

You turned. He was in flannel pants and a hoodie too big for his frame, hair messy and lips still pink from sleep. But his eyes were sharp. Awake. On you.

“No,” you murmured. “Too quiet.”

He nodded, walking past you to the kettle. “I was gonna make tea. Want some?”

You nodded.

The silence between you was easy — companionable. But it held something else, too. That faint, charged awareness that had followed you all day. It lived in the way he poured the water without asking your favourite and somehow still picked the exact tea you would have chosen. It lived in how he leaned against the counter beside you, arms folded, hip brushing yours like it had nowhere else to go.

“Everyone’s been all over you recently,” he said after a moment. Not jealous. Just observant. His voice stayed soft. “Not that I’m surprised.”

You looked over at him. “What do you mean?”

Jeongin’s lips curled into the smallest smile. “You’re the kind of person who makes people want to lean closer.”

The kettle clicked and a soft whistle echoed in the room.

He poured the tea, added the components to make it just how you like it, and poured your mug over without meeting your eyes.

“But I saw it first,” he added, a little quieter now. “I just… never knew how to say it.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you leaned your head gently against his shoulder, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all day.

He stayed there with you until the tea went cold, and lingered where you once stood by him when you retired to your room after exchanging caring goodnights.

You were the last to wake, you had slept through breakfast with everyone. You padded out into the kitchen, yawning, hoodie pulled tight around your middle, and observed the guys outside. Snow pressed soft against the windows, and the world outside was dipped in white and gold.

Your boys were outside, partaking in a spontaneous snowball fight caused by Jisung throwing—and missing—a snowball at Hyunjin, laughter echoing through the trees. You opted to stay behind, content to warm your fingers near the stove and drink in the hush.

That’s when Minho walked into the kitchen. Clad in a low-slung pair of sweats and a cardigan hanging open at the chest, hair still tousled from bed. He didn’t look surprised to see you up late.

“I figured you’d skip the cold,” he murmured.

You shrugged. “I’m conserving my energy.”

Minho snorted, then moved past you to the fridge.

“You eaten?”

“Not yet. I’m not really hungry.”

He paused.

Then, he moved away to pull out one of the chairs at the small table near the window, “Sit. I’ll make something.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m making it anyway,” he said simply.

You obeyed him, there was no point in arguing against Minho. He moved around the kitchen with calm precision. He made nothing overly flashy, but it came together fast — practiced, like he’d made it just for you before.

He slid the plate in front of you, then leaned against the counter, watching.

“You gonna stare at me until I eat?” you asked.

“Yes.”

You smirked. “Why?”

“Because I care about you.”

The answer hit harder than it should have.

You looked down at the plate. It was perfect. Just the way you liked it. No questions asked.

“You’re always feeding the others,” he said softly. “So I wanted to feed you.”

That was Minho, really. He didn’t say I love you — he handed you a peeled orange before you asked for it. He didn’t ask Are you okay? — he made your favourite meal without ever being told.

You took a bite and hummed, pleased.

His smile was small and slight, and his shoulders relaxed just a tad.

Then — like it was nothing — he walked over, sat in the chair beside you, and pulled your socked foot into his lap.

“You can pretend I’m not soft,” he murmured, pressing his thumb gently into your arch. “But you’re the only one I do this for. Don't tell the others, only you get special treatment.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

He fed you warmth in food, in touch, in silence.

And for the rest of that morning, you allowed him be as soft as he pleased for you.

In the afternoon, the backyard had erupted into chaos.

Somewhere in the distance, Hyunjin was filming a fake music video with a broom, much to Changbin’s entertainment. Felix and Seungmin were arguing over who had better aim with a snowball, despite the snow already half-melted into slush. But none of that mattered. Not to you. Not to Jisung.

Because he had locked eyes with you, wiggled his brows, and said, “I bet I can catch you in ten seconds.”

You had bolted before he had said go.

Now, you were sprinting through the wet grass, passing remnants of melting snow from the beaming sunshine, Jisung right on your tail with all the determination of a man chasing something he never wanted to let go.

“You’re cheating!” you yelled between laughs.

“Impossible!” he panted. “You’re just slow!”

You zig-zagged around the side of the cabin, heart pounding, lungs burning with breathless joy. Then — arms around your waist, a victorious yell — he tackled you onto the oversized beanbag someone had conveniently dragged outside earlier.

You landed with a thud, his body crashing half on top of you, his face hovering over yours.

The laughter caught somewhere between your throat and his. Everything froze.

You were both breathing hard — noses almost brushing, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, chest heaving where it pressed lightly against yours.

“Got you,” he whispered, a little dazed.

You swallowed.

“You always do,” you whispered back, quieter than you meant to.

Jisung’s grin faltered, replaced by something softer. His eyes searched yours — still bright, still teasing, but now shimmering with something far more dangerous.

He reached up, brushing a blade of grass from your hair, fingers lingering just a moment too long.

“I like when you laugh like that,” he said softly.

Then, just as quickly, he flopped onto his back beside you, pulling you with him until your head landed on his shoulder. His arm curled instinctively around you, casual but firm. Protective.

“I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushing suddenly. “I like a lot of things about you, but... that one’s high on the list.”

He grinned again, smaller now. More real.

You lay there like that, pressed into his side, feeling the wild thrum of your heart begin to slow.

“You make me feel like I’m fourteen again,” he murmured, voice low. “Stupid and giddy. And like maybe, if I say one more dumb thing, you’ll kiss me just to shut me up.”

You didn’t answer.

But your hand found his. And you held it. Quiet and sure.

And for once, Jisung didn’t joke. He just smiled — soft and private — like maybe that had been enough.

Dinner was chaotic — as dinners always were with eight boys and too many voices. Laughter echoed off the walls, the table overflowed with mismatched dishes full of different delicious foods, and someone had already spilled a drink across the tablecloth.

You sat at the end of the table, half-listening, your fingers idly turning your fork over and over. You were not hungry, not really — there was too much noise, too much motion, too many eyes. You had made yourself small again without meaning to.

And Felix noticed.

He always noticed.

You felt his gaze before you heard his voice — soft, close, careful.

“You didn’t eat much.”

You flinched and looked up.

Felix was beside you now, crouched slightly so he could speak just to you. His freckles were highlighted in the warm light. His eyes held none of the teasing sparkle he showed the others. Just quiet concern.

“I’m okay,” you said, brushing it off with a faint smile.

He did not move. Did not believe you.

“I made the roast for you,” he said as casually as asking for the weather, but the pink flush dusting his cheeks and his lips lifting at the edges showed anything but casualness in his actions. “You said it reminded you of your mum’s.”

That part was true — you had told him once, offhandedly, that you had missed your mother’s home cooking on a walk last week when the wind was sharp and your heart was soft.

He had remembered.

“I’ll get you a plate,” he said gently, standing before you could argue.

You watched as he carefully chose from each dish — made sure you had enough of what you liked, and none of what you avoided. He even added a sprig of parsley on the edge to decorate the plate, like it was something sacred.

When he placed it in front of you, he smiled — small, private. “Eat slow,” he said. “No one’s rushing you. No one's judging you.”

Then — before he left — he leaned down, brushing a stray hair from your face with the backs of his fingers.

“You deserve to be looked after, too. I’m always here to do that angel.”

And just like that, he returned to his seat. But his eyes flicked to you now and then — checking on you quietly, not pressuring.

You ate slowly. Not entirely because he told you to — but because in that moment, you felt steady. Seen, like you mattered in ways that did not need noise to be real. Your warmed heart was a lot to process.

After everything was cleaned up, you found Changbin by the fireplace, fiddling with the worn zipper of his hoodie. The others had migrated elsewhere — a movie murmuring in the background, snacks crunched between shared jokes — but this room was quieter now. Lit by firelight and something else that hung between you.

“You okay?” he asked, looking up at you with a soft voice, like he already knew the answer.

You gave a small shrug and dropped to sit beside him. Not quite close, not quite far.

“I just…” You paused. “Sometimes I feel out of place. Like I take up too much space. Or not the right kind.”

Changbin looked at you then. Really looked. No surprise in his eyes. No pity, either — just a calm kind of recognition.

“I feel like that sometimes,” he said quietly.

You blinked.

He smiled, self-conscious, rubbing the back of his neck. “People see confidence. Muscles. Jokes. But I grew up hating my voice. My face. My body. Still do, some days.”

You stayed silent, stunned by his honesty.

“I know what it feels like,” he continued. “To sit in a room full of people you love and still wonder if you belong in it.”

You could feel your throat constricting.

“But you do,” he said. “I promise you do. We brought you here for a reason.”

He shifted closer, enough for your shoulders to brush. “And even if you don’t see it tonight... I’ll see it for you. I see you as someone I want to be around every day.”

You let your head tip onto his shoulder.

“I know you hide yourself sometimes,” he added. “When you’re tired. When you’re overwhelmed. When you’re down. But I see you.”

Your eyes met his — wide, vulnerable.

“And you do not have to be like that with me. Not here. Not tonight. Not ever.”

He opened the his arm and wrapped it around you, then pulled you against his chest like it was the only place you were meant to be. His arms were solid around you. Not caging. Not forcing. Just there. Anchoring.

“You’re allowed to fall apart a little,” he whispered, lips just above your temple. “I’ll hold the pieces.”

You didn’t realise how long you had needed to hear that. To hear that not only someone understood, but had been in the same boat as you.

Not through a grand gesture. Not through loud declarations. Just through a boy who knew how it felt.

It was not even 8 a.m. the next morning when you were challenged to a nine-way game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who was going to make the dreaded convenience store trip.

And it ended with both you and Seungmin standing at the edge of the driveway, groggy and blinking against the pale morning light, breath puffing visibly into the air.

“Remind me why we agreed to this,” you muttered.

“We did not agree to this. They rigged it,” Seungmin muttered, adjusting the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. “Hyunjin always does that weird finger-twitch before scissors. It’s cheating, psychologically.”

You smiled sleepily, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets. “You’re really upset about this.”

“Obviously. I’m now awake too early, underfed, and in charge of everyone’s snack cravings.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just started walking down the road toward the convenience store at the corner. You jogged a few steps to catch up.

Despite the grumbling, Seungmin made sure you walked on the inside of the sidewalk. When a car passed, he subtly angled himself between you and the road. When you tripped slightly on the uneven pavement, he caught your elbow without missing a beat.

He sighed theatrically. “They better appreciate this. If Felix texts me for some kind of milk after we get back, I’m going home.”

You laughed, leaning into him slightly, shoulder to shoulder. “You say that like you aren’t going to get him two of what he wants.”

He scowled at you.

You grinned in return.

The store was mostly empty, bright fluorescent lights buzzing quietly overhead. You both wandered through the aisles, grabbing a mess of snacks — ice creams, seaweed crisps, warm sweet buns from the warmer near the counter. Seungmin wordlessly handed you a can of your favourite drink, then looked away like it was nothing.

To him, it was not nothing.

On the walk back, you offered him a bite of the red bean bun you had opened. He accepted it with a grumble. “This is the only good part of this whole cursed mission.”

And when the house finally came into view again, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Next time,” he said, voice low, “let’s lose on purpose.”

You blinked. “Why?”

His mouth twitched into a barely-there smile.

“Because it was kinda nice. Just us.”

And that, for Seungmin, said everything.

The steady afternoon murmur of voices and clinking dishes drifted from the open windows behind you, laughter bubbling up in waves as the others prepared the evening’s meal. You slipped outside, craving a moment away from the bustle, and found Hyunjin settled in the porch swing, a steaming mug cradled between his hands.

He looked up as you approached, that familiar, easy smile lighting his face. “Needed some fresh air?” he asked, voice gentle.

You nodded and eased down onto the chair beside him, the wood creaking softly beneath you. The sun was warm, filtering through the tall pines that surrounded the cabin, dappling the porch with patches of light and shadow.

For a time, you simply breathed in the quiet—the soft rustle of the trees, the distant chatter, the faint crackle of the fire pit beyond the porch. The contrast between the lively energy inside and this peaceful corner made the moment feel like a secret shared between the two of you.

Hyunjin shifted just enough so your shoulders touched, the contact simple but grounding. His gaze softened as he met yours, eyes reflecting the dappled sunlight. “It’s nice here,” he murmured. “Like the world slows down a little.”

You smiled, leaning your head lightly on his shoulder, warmth spreading through you beyond the sun’s touch. “I could stay here forever,” you whispered.

His fingers found yours, weaving between them with a quiet certainty. “I don’t want to share this with anyone else,” he admitted, voice low, sincere.

You looked up, catching the depth in his eyes—the gentle promise wrapped in his words, the way he was offering something steady, patient, and real.

A breeze stirred, carrying with it the scent of pine needles and wood smoke, and you both exhaled together, breathing in the calm. Around you, the cabin pulsed with life, but here on this porch, cradled in the soft afternoon glow, it was just the two of you—connected, content, and quietly holding space for whatever might come next.

The night had settled quietly, wrapping the world in a blanket of soft snow and silence. The cold was sharp, each breath sending out little clouds that hung in the air like tiny ghosts. You tugged your coat tighter around yourself, fingers slipping into the warmth of your gloves, but the chill didn’t bite as fiercely when Chan was near.

Chan stood beside you, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes bright beneath the hood of his jacket. “It’s too perfect to stay inside,” he said, voice low and warm. “Come on. Let’s make snow angels.”

Without waiting for an answer, he took your hand, fingers curling around yours in that familiar way that made your heart skip. Together, you stepped off the porch onto the thick, untouched snow that blanketed the lawn.

Lying down side by side, you stretched your arms wide and moved slowly, carefully tracing wings into the soft powder beneath you. Your laughter rang out softly, the sound carried on the cold breeze, mixing with Chan’s own joyful chuckles.

When you sat up, the snow clung to your hair and coat, cold and fresh, and Chan reached out instantly, caressing your face to brush stray flakes away from your face. His fingertips were gentle, warm against your skin despite the cold night.

“You’re cold,” he said quietly, concern threading through his voice.

“I’m okay,” you murmured, catching your breath, the warmth from the shared laughter still glowing inside you.

He looked unconvinced, his eyes searching yours, full of that quiet care he showed without ever needing to say much. Slowly, he shifted closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you near.

“I’m always here, you know,” he said softly, voice almost a whisper. “No matter what.”

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest where you could hear the steady beat of his heart—a rhythm so calm and grounding it made the cold feel miles away.

For a moment, you both stayed like that, wrapped in the fragile warmth between frost and light, under a sky so vast and still it seemed to hold all your unspoken promises.

Then Chan’s hand found yours again, fingers threading through yours with effortless ease, grounding you even more.

“It is cold out here,” he said after a beat, voice gentle but firm. “Let’s not wait too long before going back inside.”

You smiled up at him, your cheeks flushed not just from the cold. “Soon,” you promised.

But for now, you were exactly where you wanted to be—under fairy lights, cradled in the quiet night, with Chan’s steady warmth beside you.

Before you both could move inside, however, one by one, the others drifted outside, drawn by the soft night time snow and the sound of your shared laughter.

Jisung called out with a laugh, balancing a tray of snacks, while Minho checked the fire pit, expertly coaxing flames to life. Felix and Jeongin settled on the porch steps, quietly sharing a joke, while Seungmin leaned against the railing, watching the sky with a small, content smile.

Hyunjin sat on his spot on the swing, tired from having a warm, full stomach, and still wrapped in the peaceful quiet of the surroundings.

And there you were — nestled comfortably in the centre of this easy cluster, feeling every heartbeat and breath like threads weaving a delicate tapestry of belonging.

Changbin slid beside you, slipping his hand around your waist with a softness that surprised you, his usual fiery intensity melting into quiet warmth. “You okay?” he murmured, voice low and steady.

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder again.

The air was cool but not bitingly cold, scented with pine and smoke, with the faint hum of the forest settling around you all.

Minho caught your eye, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed you a cup of warm tea. “Make sure you don’t forget to eat,” he said softly, his tone protective, tender.

Felix grinned, nudging Jisung playfully. “We better watch out, she’s got us all wrapped around her finger.”

Changbin laughed, squeezing your hand gently.

Seungmin glanced over, eyes gentle. “I’m glad we’re here together.”

The night stretched before you — open, full of quiet possibilities.

No words were needed to say what simmered beneath the surface. The slow burn of something sweet, something patient, something that might someday be—but for now, it was enough to simply be here.

Together.

Under one sky.

tysm for ur req bbg i hope u liked :)

more skz content - reqs open!

taglist (ask to be added here): @burlesquerade @makeitworse @petersasteria @gdinthehouseee @aizshallnotbefound @floofeh-purpi @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @sherrayyyyy @ricecake9999 @leni111 @scream-queen-25 @spiritualgirly444 @fairyprincesslvr21 @loonybunny1 @uuchii @sherxoo @m-325 @slut4junho

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rileytwenty · 1 month ago

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Everyone who knew Simon thought him out to be a freak who didn't like to be touched, or talked to, or even looked at.

It was only you who knew how much of a starved bastard he was.

He's always touching you, personal space was crumbled up like a tissue ball and thrown in the trash while Simon was with you.

His hands would mindlessly find you, but with adoration of every atom of his soul, to scratch at your scalp and murmur sweet words, to coil your hair between his fingers, watching your strands slip and tugging them to earn a fond frown, his lips gliding on your warm skin, mouthing and biting and sucking. The simple joy of your hand in his. Big palm resting over your thigh before he begins to grope you in the middle of the movie.

How at nights there would be huge weight lunged over you, arms wrapped around as if you would be taken up by a ghost. Sweet kisses places all over your face as soon as he would wake up.

Simon who wouldn't utter a word when outside but the moment he's alone with you, that man would never stop. His eyes that were rumoured to be soulless would light up like brilliant stars, and he'll talk and talk, smiling and fondling, hands shooting up in gestures, in tales of Afghanistan and dubai. He jokes and makes you laugh until your eyes crinkled, and moistened while your stomach does swoops around in anticipated giddiness that takes over both of you in each other's presence. That's your man.

And oh lord, how much he wants to be seen, only by you.

Even after years of being together, Simon would take pride in trying to seduce you. He would walk out of the shower with his huge biceps on display, as water would slide down in tiney drops — towel wrapped lowely around his waist, his navel where a rush of hair darker than his roots disappeared, and the smug look he would have. And in the way he would make you look at him while shooting ropes of cum inside you, eyes lost in eyes, seen. Or the way Simon would look up with dazed eyes when he's home between your legs.

Because he wants to be seen in a way that makes you all his, and him all yours.

Masterlist

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rileytwenty · 1 month ago

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‘why do you read “various x reader stories?”’

first, i’m a narcissist and will not read it if it’s not about me

second, I love the feeling of people liking me

third, I was ignored as a child

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rileytwenty · 1 month ago

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Simon: Listen Y/n. It's valentine and I am taking you out.

John *from his earpiece*: asking.

Simon*nodding*: I am asking you out.

Y/n:

Simon: You need to come with me.

Y/n:

Simon: No one else will ask you out because I am going to marry you.

Y/n:

John: which part of this is ‘asking’

*Simon throws the ear piece out*

Simon: You can say no. Turn me down. Break my heart. All of you have to do is say no just once.

Y/n *with their mouth taped*:

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rileytwenty · 1 month ago

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I want to speak to you but I have nothing to say

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rileytwenty · 2 months ago

Note

This has been in my mind all day but the thought of skz ninth member saying she could identify others with her eyes closed leaving the boys curious if she could guess who's fucking her with a blindfold, if she gets it correct she can cum

this was such an incredible ask!!!!!!!! literally one of my favourites ever. and i just cant explain how fun this was to write so thank youuu!!!!!😍

Warnings: 18+mdni!! ot8 unprotected sex, saliva, sensory play(blindfold), hair pulling, spanking, nicknames, cumshots, banter, mention of voyeurism, multiple positions, size kink(not body size;only cock size), mention of breeding, sensory play (blindfold)

wc: 3.7k

~~~~~~

"Go on then," Seungmin says, gesturing to the empty couch situated perfectly in the middle of the room.

"This is going to be too easy. Being around you guys all the time, I know all your tells," you say, plopping down on the dorm's shared couch.

Here are the rules:

No members talking

No members moaning

No kissing

Once you guess it right, they pull out

Rewards if you win:

All members get to finish on you

You get to cum with their help

You're in the 3racha dorm surrounded by your 8 other members whose eyes are glistening from curiosity at what's about to unfold. You'd made a bet, of course you'd made a bet, that you would be able to identify which member was fucking you, no exceptions. They, of course, denied that was possible. So, here you are lying half naked, waiting to prove them all wrong.

Chan steps to you, kneeling down beside the couch, fingertips hanging off the side. His eyes are searching yours for any glimmer of hesitancy - any second thoughts. There of course was none. The slow burn of his stare makes a shiver run over you and you can see the wheels turning in his mind, you just wish you could pin down those exact thoughts.

"Felix? Blindfold." Chan raises his hand behind him, anticipating the cloth but not taking his heated eyes off of you.

You smile inwardly, knowing you're sure that you've gotten yourself into the best situation you could have. They're all hot, gorgeous even, men in their 20's ready to fuck you dumb over a bet. Their sex drives high, they're ready to dump load after load and that thought does not leave your cunt dry to say the least.

You've heard and seen all these men make themselves cum over and over again. The walls aren't that thick. But whether they know that is another story.

Now you're going to be getting a taste of what it's like to be on the other side of those walls. You can't help the elation that slides up your throat. These are your other 8 members. You've seen each other at your lowest and your highest, and now you wonder how this bet may play out in the group dynamics.

Who knows, it might just be the best thing you all could have done together...

Felix gives the black fabric to a patiently waiting Chan.

Changbin's giggle echoes through the room as you wink at him. He's just too cute.

"Bin, I'm cumming for you first." You smirk as you succumb to the darkness that is the blindfold taking away your vision. Blocking your most vital sense.

Changbin huffs out a clearly sexually frustrated sigh as he runs his hand through his hair. You hadn't even begun to think how even just the idea of this happening might have the members' imaginations running.

"Not gonna know which one of us is first though, angel," Hyunjin responds with a soft tease in his tone, close enough for you to hear the little whisper in his breath.

"Angel? Oh, careful Hyune...After that nickname paired with your cock, I might just fall in love."

"Everyone shut up this is taking forever," Seungmin says deadpan, flipping off the light. He was always impatient.

"You idiot she's blindfolded, we don't need them all off" Lee Know says, "she can't see anything anyway."

"You do it then," Seungmin bites back at Lee Know playfully.

"Boys, boys, let's all just simmer down hm? Keep this a zen fucking zone."

Han gets up, increasing the light in the room with the dimmer switch. Hannie - ever so attentive.

The room is silent, members grinding their teeth, stretching their fingers, waiting for your cue, presumably.

"We just gonna sit here chatting boys? Or is someone gonna stick their cock into me? I'm ready to win a bet."

The room bustles, voices whispering and winding to a halt as the first contestant climbs over you.

The couch shifts under you like a ship listing in the deep ocean.

Your back is supported on the couch, blindfold secured around your head, panties still on but already showing a thick wet spot.

A chill of self-consciousness floods you just for a second before it's replaced by the confidence of having your 8 members focused fully on you as they wait to fuck you in turns.

The first mystery man's hands slide the fabric down your legs, exposing your cunt to all 8 of your members. You feel so bare, so vulnerable, but so goddamn powerful. You can almost hear their hard swallows as all their eyes are glued on you, their cocks tripling in size in anticipation.

"Someone put it in," you say, tapping your fingers on your chin like you're bored.

Suddenly you're breached, their length sliding in effortlessly into your wet cunt. Your walls immediately shiver around the foreign feeling, clamping down. They're so deep it feels like a bubble might just pop deep inside your belly. The member's hips stop halfway as a gasp rips from your chest, an electricity running to your fingertips.

You stammer, "b-big," as their hands caress you, rubbing gentle circles over your skin, complimenting the deep, slow strokes. Their hands are large, fingers thin but sculpted so beautifully. He slides the rest of the way in, saliva dripping out of his mouth onto your tits. The warm liquid splashes onto your peaked nipples as their head dips down just to swirl it in circles with their tongue.

"H-Hyune!" you yelp mid-moan, knowing there's no way in hell that's not him.

"Fuck how?" Hyun says, stopping his movements and reluctantly pulling out.

You grasp your tummy as the removal feels so sudden, leaving you empty once more.

"You and your oral fixation baby, you're a deliciously messy, messy fuck," you say pinching your nipples, the wetness still stimulating you.

It's silent again as he climbs off the couch and another member replaces him.

You feel your cunt clench and flutter as you wait to be filled again.

The next mystery member teases his thick satiny tip in and out of you, inching himself in and then pulling out. The stretch is even bigger than Hyune, narrowing down your options to just a few.

"S-so p-patient," you exhale, pondering a few members that could bare minimum fit the category of patient.

He sinks in, pressing his chest firmly onto yours, his shirt blocking skin to skin contact. Your back arches as you adjust to the size of him as he bottoms out.

"F-fuck" falls out of your mouth as his hips pull back just to jolt forward again.

"Mmm, n-needs to feel close to who he's fucking," you pant, trying your best to focus on the task at hand.

He hits your spot immediately, his thrusts gentle but deep.

"Channie baby," you say in confidence. "F-feel you pushing into my c-cervix, can't not think of b-breeding can you?"

With a huffed laugh, he pulls out, leaving you empty and aching once more.

"Yep," he says, nodding his head and swiping his forehead in defeat. He starts to speak, likely wondering how you know he thinks of breeding all the time, but he stops his train of thought.

Just then you visibly shiver on the couch, thinking of all the times Chan has thought of breeding you. Sneaking into your room at night, just to fill you with his cum.

"Fuck," you hear a distant voice mumble in response to your body writhing.

The next member handles your frame differently, a little faster, planting you flat on your stomach.

He climbs over you, not wasting any time before bullying his cock into you. He's placed your legs close together, so when he slides in it feels like your cunt expands ten-fold, pressure building like it's your first time.

You notice he's a little thinner than the other two, the new angle puzzling you as to who it could be. You feel him pull out and plunge back in, as you wait for his tell.

You were puzzled for another minute, little moans running out of your mouth. Confusion subsides once his fingers grab your waist, peppering kisses over your hot skin wrapping around your waist. He's not so much thrusting anymore as rutting into you, his breath hot on your neck. He's needy, borderline insatiable. He's fast with his rutting, like he's speeding to get to the finish line.

Then it hits you.

"Jeongin," floats out of your mouth gently as the rhythm of his hips seems to have hypnotized you.

His pelvis continues pressing into you desperately as your ass cushions his every rut, a loud moan now breaking out from his throat in agreement.

"N-needy, just as I thought, still fucking me even after it's over, you say, chuckling.

You hear him puff out air, hands squeezing your skin trying to convince himself to pull out. Finally, he musters up the strength to slide out of you and off the couch.

"Fuck she's tight, how'd you guys stop?" he asks, panting.

"Number 4 here we go, my cunt needs more." You're feeling needy yourself, but you'd never admit it.

This member wants you leaning over the couch, ass in the air, your elbows just resting on the back of the couch, barely stable.

A loud smack lands on your ass, jolting you forward. You hiss from the sting, the deliciously painful bliss of it just as he nestles his silky tip into your gooey cunt.

"Lee Know," you get out before you even feel him fully penetrate you. It was too easy.

He pauses his movements as Chan's voice sounds.

"Are you sure?" Chan asks, trying to get into your head.

"Y-yes," you say right as the 4th member slides into you fully, not letting you adjust to his size.

His hands are bound in your hair as his hips speed up, his cock knocking into your spot with lightning speed, the intensity feeling like he's about to tip over a glass full of water.

"F-fuck Minho, m-more," you say before you can filter it out of your mouth.

"More?" Lee Know says, a smug tone painting the letters as he gives your ass another slap.

"Oh really angel? He gets to keep fucking you?" Hyunjin says, attitude thick in his silky voice.

That seems to snap you back to the reality of the situation as you swallow hard.

"Minho," you say, signaling him to, unfortunately, pull out.

He retreats with a growl, clearly frustrated from lack of finishing.

"You're intriguing Y/n."

"M-more than just your ninth member, I'm like a seer of all things," you say, snaking your head around towards where the now mumbling voices are coming from.

Your body is starting to tremble, the lack of your vision unlocking and magnifying all other senses within your body. Each touch from them is more rounded, each sound is sharper, you feel like a goddamn vampire with supernatural senses.

Hands grab you once more, pulling you down onto the cushion but keeping you slouched facing the front of the couch. You yelp from the surprise of changing positions so quickly, your hair getting messier by the second.

"Ooh surprises, I love surprises," you say just as the new member's warm hands hold your legs open in a wide v-shape in the air.

His rounded tip dips in once, twice, before sending all his weight into your cunt at once. The stretch was obvious.

A blood curdling moan rips out of you at the weight of the thrusts he's giving you. His hips are at a different angle than the others before him, his hips waving in an effortless thrust; one that scoops out your insides in the most intoxicating way. The smooth thrusts angle upwards, massaging your sweet spot that makes your eyes roll back.

You get lost in the rhythm he's giving you, not wanting your blissed out state to stop.

Suddenly you hear Minho clear his throat, snapping you back to reality.

"H-heavy c-cock, f-fucking incredible stroke game, wants me pliable...B-Binnie I know that's you...sp-splitting me in two."

Your cunt is pulsing around him, the stretch stinging so good your toes curl so hard, threatening to lose feeling.

He pulls out and you reflexively whine, "t-too fast." You trip over the words as your cunt feels utterly abandoned.

"Y/n, you're something, you know that?" Binnie says still stroking his hardened cock as he assumes his place next to the other members.

"'M aching." Your voice is thinner this time, like you're slowly slipping into a dream. You've nearly forgotten all about the bet, now you just have tunnel vision for your own release.

You were right, it was the best decision you could have made - doing this bet. But it was also torture having each member pull out when all you really wanted was to say fuck the bet and let them all have their way with you.

But your pride was not letting up.

The 6th member interrupts your thought as you're positioned onto your back, flat. The new set of hands press your wrists above your head, their fingers gentle given the sudden movement.

The new position makes your teeth capture your lips, tugging hard.

He takes a second to get comfortable, cock vibrating as he trembles from the pleasure of nudging his cock inside of you. He bottoms out in one thrust, pausing to collect himself once in.

All movements on his end have ceased, like he's trying so hard to control himself.

You don't even need one more thrust to know who that is.

"H-Hannie baby, you're trying so hard n-not to ruin me or yourself by cumming right...now."

You hear a hiccupped moan flutter from his pretty lips as he pulls out like he's caught fire.

"F-fuck," he says, turning away and closing his eyes to stave off the impending orgasm.

"Cute," Felix says breaking the silence that has droned on since you started this whole thing. "You look like you're actually gonna splatter cum all over yourself right now."

"H-hey you don't understand how w-warm sh-," Han retorts, but trails off as you hear him bite down on his hand.

You chuckle, amused by his lack of control. How his tip is just dripping with precum ready to explode.

"Yeah Hannie, I know you can't help it baby, m'just wanna take care of you." You say it with a little twist in your voice like you're egging him on.

Your body convulses suddenly, not long away from an orgasm ripping through you from the constant friction you've endured. You shut your lips tight, trying to calm the storm inside of you.

"N-no one slide in yet, or I'll cum."

"See I'm not the only one!" Han tries to defend himself.

"Y-yeah but you haven't just had 6 cocks in you," you laugh and can just sense the redness creeping into his cheeks.

Your members give you a minute to suppress the feeling in your stomach threatening to tear you apart.

"Okay, go," you say, ready for more.

Two more, you can do this, you coach yourself internally.

The next mystery member wants you on your hands and knees but still on the couch. A caress of their soft hands on your ass has you grinding back to get more.

"Mmm already making me beg...okay, I see you number 7."

They spread your ass cheeks before circling their tip on your stretched out cunt. He slides his cock up to your other, much tighter hole. He alternates nudging your sensitive holes, his hand massaging your ass in harsh circles.

With a grip on your hips, his whole length enters you. He's big, just like the rest, but there's a lean to his cock that you feel, prodding you in a new, gorgeous corner of your walls.

His fingers are digging into your skin hard, but his thrusts are just steadily increasing.

"Patient too, but wants their way with me," you whisper, circling your ass backwards to catch him deeper.

"Seungminnie you just wanna fuck me like your little pup don't you?"

He stills.

"C'mon Y/n. H-how?" he says, utterly shocked but still pumping you as you've grabbed his wrist now to try and keep him inside.

"I've heard you fuck your fist moaning. 'Such a desperate pup," You mimic him with a low growl just like you've heard many, many times.

"You like watching me like a perv?" Seungmin teases.

"You can watch me anytime Seungminnie, might even let you help."

You can hear his head shaking through the lazy corners of his laugh at your bold statement.

He gives your ass a little slap before climbing back off the couch, joining the others.

"Last one. Then you can cum." Chan says, his voice shaky from his own stimulation it seemed.

Member 8 wants you back on your stomach but rather than take you flat, he tucks a pillow under your hips to raise them a few inches.

"F-Felix baby, why even bother? I know it's you," you say through a very tired voice.

You hadn't realized how much they'd drain you one after another.

"You wanna cum don't you? Gotta guess all of us sweetheart," he says in a thick, deep Aussie accent that resonates in your ears and travels right back down to your core.

"Fuck Felix," you pant, feeling that rubber band tighten in your stomach again. "Don't play with me, its been a long night."

He adjusts the pillow once more, bending down to whisper by your ear, "might want to hold on sweetheart."

Reflexively, you press your ass towards him more, wrapping your fingers around the pillow beneath you.

"Just...like," he says, sliding the first inch in, before bottoming out with a flick of his hips, "that."

"Mmm" you hum. "Lixie, the t-type to look innocent but fuck you d-dumb," you say, your body jolting with each harsh thrust of his hips.

He speeds up not wasting any time in getting you both to your highs. Being the last member to go, he doesn't seem to be worried about pushing either of you too far.

"Wanna c-cum on your cock L-Lixie."

You know it might not be fair, to only let Lixie be the one to bring you over the edge, and on his cock nonetheless, but you thought you might die if another one pulled out of you not letting you release on them.

"I need to cum on c-cock."

Felix grabs the blindfold, pushing it off of your head and your eyes blur, colors looking more contrasting than you remember.

Blinking to adjust to the light, you see all 8 of your members stroking their cocks above you.

"What do you think hm?" Felix addresses the members. "Should we let her cum on my cock?"

"I-I won, I choose," you say through your teeth, feeling like you might explode if you don't get to cum soon.

"She's right, let our little bunny choose," Changbin says, kneeling now, stroking his cock at a new angle.

"W-want to be on top," you say.

You're straddling Felix now, reverse cowgirl as you watch the members mouths open, tongues swiping their lips, pained pleasured expressions painting their features.

You reach out, feeling around each one, going from member to member, running your shaky hand over their leaking cocks.

Never would you have guessed you'd ever be in this situation, having all 8 of your members wide eyed and at the mercy of your cunt.

And it felt fucking phenomenal.

Their eyes are all mesmerized by you, Felix's eyes glued to your ass bouncing up and down on his cock. His head is thrown back, his pouty mouth open in awe.

You ride him a little harder, his cock hitting your spot as your clit goes haywire from stimulation.

"Fuck m'gonna cum," you say, fingers dragging on Felix's thighs as you feel the rubber band finally snap deep in your belly.

As the wave washes over you, Hyunjin kneels in front of you beside Changbin, suctioning his puffy, warm lips over your nipple. The slight sting from how hard he's sucking makes you scream out as Felix drills you from beneath, helping you ride out your high.

Lee Know fists your hair, yanking your head back

"That's it kitten, 8 cocks enough for you?" he menaces.

Your body finally gives out as Felix and Chan hold your body up, preventing you from toppling over. Your muscles are seized with pleasure, your eyes closed in bliss.

"Fuck Y/n, babygirl, we've got you," Chan says, hands on your waist as your body continues undulating.

You make it a mission to make eye contact with each member as they furiously pump their cocks.

Hyunjin is the first to let go, the fixation on your breast tipping him over the edge. His mouth is sucking your nipple still as he shoots out ropes of warm cum on your chest and stomach.

The sight of him falling apart seems to trigger the rest of the members as they crowd around you releasing onto your sweaty, glistening skin nearly one right after the other.

Moans fill the room as they cum to the scene of the aftermath of your orgasm, as your body still jerks, electricity still running through you.

Felix taps your ass, "u-up m'gonna cum." He lifts you, counting on Chan and Lee Know to leverage your weight as you shoot up off of Felix's cock like a rocket. You bend forward, both members helping you to plant your hands on the floor so that you don't fall on your face.

A deep groan followed by heavy pants come from Felix as he empties himself on your back and ass, his warm cum making designs on your beautiful skin.

The front of your body is all sticky, cum falling off your skin onto the floor from the mess the guys made on you.

"Holy shit," Seungmin says, lying flat on the floor, spent.

Felix helps you upright and helps you off of his lap. "Y/n, fuck" Felix says, eyes looking like that definitely will not be the last time that happens.

You try to stand but your legs feel injected with jelly.

Chan catches your misstep. "Woah Y/n, you good?"

"See I told you, I know all your tells boys," you say, so pleased with yourself and utterly satisfied.

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rileytwenty · 2 months ago

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guy who didn't eat breakfast and took stimulants and is getting really antsy about his professional and social life at exactly the time of day he always does in these circumstances is planning big life changes based on these emotions

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rileytwenty · 2 months ago

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Our Overseers

Know what you are stepping into : Heaven = Fluff/Angst ; Hell = Smut

Their Heaven :

SKZ as First Encounters [Romance Tropes] "I Guess I Never Knew You." [Cheater!SKZ]

"...Who is this?" [WrongNumber!SKZ] "Are You Serious?" [RedFlag!SKZ] | "Good Luck, Babe." Marriage? Marriage. "As We Are" [ANGST] Being Their Stylist Bad Habits

Their Hell :

"Not A Want, But A Need." Perv!SKZ "Not a Need, But A Craving." Perv!SKZ "Where else was I supposed to sit?" Lap Sitting w/ SKZ Hand Placement w/ SKZ "First Time's The Charm?" [First BJ!SKZ] " First TIme's The Charm?" [First Time!SKZ] "Masked Pleasures" Mask Kink w/ SKZ "Maybe One More." Dilf!SKZ Slow Makeouts Matchmaking SKZ + Bulking "Spoiled Rotten" [Sugar Daddy!] "But what do I know?" [Virgin!]

Messy, messy boys. Sneaky, sneaky boys. Greedy, greedy boys.

SKZ + Head SKZ + Hands SKZ + Sharing

.Guess. [Charlie xcx ft. Billie Eilish]

SKZ Cock Analysis

Other Anomalies:

KINKTOBER 2024

Stray Temptations 7:15 - Chan | 8:30 - Chan 7:00 - Jisung

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rileytwenty · 2 months ago

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Sorry for falling off. That was on purpose. I had to become something I wasn’t in order to remember what I was.

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rileytwenty · 2 months ago

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be your dog

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rileytwenty · 2 months ago

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can we have another yandere bakugou bully? i have nothing unique maybe the common on where he likes to bully the girl severely all throughout highschool and then when they are abt to graduate that’s where he kidnap. If u want to add smut it’s okay but i don’t really mind i kinda just like the fear when u write like that little scared feeling THATS ITTTTT OMG I LOVE UR FICSSSSS

yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, jealousy, stalking, obsession to the extreme, manipulation, blackmail, sexual harassment angst, bullying, trauma, threats, death/near death of a third character, slut shaming

BAD GUY

How long had she known Bakugo?

All her life.

That was the short answer.

He’s made himself known. Without fail, without break, without mercy.

Childhood friends?

Neighbours...

That’s what she’d say.

As though there was nothing more to it. Like he wasn't a stain on her life. A stain no amount of bleach or vinegar-and-soda or peroxide-and-dish-soap could ever hope to remove.

Come to think of it, he was more like a scar than a stain. Or really, more like an open wound refusing to heal.

Which was why it felt like a rusty blade being twisted in her gut when she opened the door to find him the one who’d rung her apartment’s bell.

“I guess... what I’ve been trying to say- what I wanted to say... was... I’m sorry.”

He’d been scratching the back of his neck throughout the entirety of what jumbled, struggled, sorry excuse for an apology he’d forced from somewhere unknown in the hard clump of ember he had for a heart.

Something which unsurprisingly made for an insulting effort to erase what effects he’d had on her childhood.

One staggering sentence after the other of frustrating confessions, wishes gone to waste, things he hadn't meant, things he would have done differently if only he were fourteen years younger, and he could start again right when his quirk manifested before he turned into a self-righteous narcissistic prick of human waste. One dedicated to making everyone revere him by fearing him.

“For everything.”

He put his hands in his pockets, but she could still see how they twitched inside the hoodie and bet they were weeping with sweat, adamant about starting fires.

“For all the years I put you through hell.”

He was taller now, she noted. While calculating how she’d have to call the police if she were to stand a chance of making him leave if he decided to do what he always did and make himself comfortable.

He was bigger as well. Probably thanks to UA, making him look like a true right and shining Hero... but all she could see was how it was as though he’d swelled like some blister or bruise, like some boil ready to pop and leak its nasty contents all over her life.

“Well?” He urged, ripping her from her heavy train of thought.

She blinked.

“Well, what?” She bit out. Still holding the door. Ready to close it if he were to try and step inside.

“Do you accept the apology?” He asked, leaning forward. Where, on pure survival instinct, she immediately drew back. While the gap between the door and frame became slimmer as she pulled it like a shield in front of her.

Her brows dipped. Eyes not daring to close. Not allowing him a single second of rest under her justified judgment.

“No.” She barked, only barely managing to avoid the scoff that wanted to follow, yet surprising herself with the strength her voice carried.

“W-what-” He started, but she wasn't feeling particularly eager to listen to any more of his dumb excuses or half-hearted regrets or too little-too-late so-called apologies.

“You fuck with me for eighteen years...”

It was strange looking directly into his vermillion eyes, watching him be the one to shrink away, him be the one to switch his footing, tense like a shamed pet under his owner's harsh, scolding voice. It almost wouldn't even have surprised her if he'd whimpered just a little with how round his eyes were, looking just like a kicked pup.

“And you think some half-assed apology is just suddenly going to make everything okay?”

“W-” He tried, his gaze shifting to look down at his feet.

“No.” She stopped him.

Opening the door to its original cavity. She struck a dominant pose even though he was a full head taller, her eyes narrowing in something that could only resemble disgust.

“You’re the reason I went through all of middle-school scared and alone.”

His ears drew back meekly. Feeling small under what look she was giving him.

“I left classes early in fear of meeting you in the halls. I made sure to look around the corners before walking down them. I ate lunch in the bathroom and listened from behind the door in case you were out there waiting.” She confessed, her eyes still maintaining contact with his, firmer the more he shrunk away. “I ran home unless you hadn't already caught me, I cried myself to sleep, I lied to my parents every single fucking day because I was afraid that if they got involved with your parents, you’d have to face the wrath of your mom, and I didn't want that for you.”

With water welling in her eyes now, she looked to the ceiling. Taking a breath, she clenched her jaw and almost chuckled at the absurdity of it. Not caring how Bakugo’s eyes seemed to widen even more.

“I was afraid to play on our block ‘cause I knew you would come out and make me regret it.”

She bit her lip, looking at the guy that would yank her hair to pull her inside his locker, leaving her there for entire periods.

Make her listen as he beat Deku up in the hall, his friends like goons on his side, laughing as Izuku snivelled.

“People were afraid to be seen with me.”

Knuckles were white and hot from how hard she clenched her fist at her side, the other gripping the door with nails marring the wood.

“Not because I’m quirkless, but because of you.”

Her hard gaze met him like daggers. Plunged right between his ribs into that thing that seemed to only beat faster the more she spoke.

“You had me think that was my fault.”

A tear slipped its confinement and went dripping down her cheek, a thin stream following it.

Her breath shuddered on intake.

“You made me think- you made think being quirkless was- was -a curse -a crime -a fucking abomination.”

Her shoulders grazed as she looked down to the ground and let more tears fall while Katsuki stood there frigid and so very rightfully uncomfortable.

“You made me feel like I didn’t deserve to breathe.”

He opened his mouth but quickly swallowed it as he realized he would only be repeating what dumb unsatisfactory words he’d given her before.

“You made me hate myself.”

She couldn't possibly hate herself more than she hated him, he thought.

“And if it wasn’t for Izuku... I wouldn’t be here.”

His thoughts flashed back to seeing her help the green-haired geek up off the floor each time he grew bored picking on him. After the halls had filled with enough smoke, it’d stain the walls grey, the scent of burning sugar a lingering reminder of who there runs the school.

“Still, you had the nerve to go about making him feel worthless too.”

She would shove him aside at once when he’d unlock his locker. She'd push at him to let her drop to her knees and tend to the green-eyed fucker who’d had the breath knocked from him. The twerp wheezing like a pathetic runt on the dirty school floors. So shamelessly unaware of how lucky he was to have someone like her tend to him.

Katsuki cleared his throat.

“I’ve talked to him too. We’re... working it out. Just tell me what I need to-”

“I’ll accept your apology when I stop waking up in the middle of the night because I think I feel you breathing down my neck.” She cut him off again. “When I stop looking over my shoulder because I think I hear you coming. When I stop hearing your voice in my head telling me that I’m useless, that I'm worth nothing, that I'm better off dead.”

Her eyes sized him up. Or, rather, took in his seemingly beaten state. Finding somewhat pleasure in the fact that there was at least one thing she could deny him.

“Until then, all you need to do is leave me alone.”

At that, she shut the door and locked it.

Her back pressed against the wood almost immediately as she drooped like drying paint. Sliding down to the ground, she listened while bating her breath for the retreating steps of the boy on the opposite side. Fearing that her speech hadn't slapped him hard enough for him to go home and lick his wounds.

Katsuki stood there for a moment, and years seemed to pass.

Hood lifted over his head, his body slouched with the terrible looming weight that pressed down upon him. Feeling so fucking tired and worn and defeated as he lifted his boot to saunter back down the stairs and make his way home.

A home, which was now not right across the street like it was back when they were kids, but a whole car ride away. Seemingly lives away. A beaten track of heavy regrets and loud, blinding, bitter disappointments.

All to be blamed on him.

~~~

It had been quiet lately.

A few comments were hurled at Deku here and there. Though they were dismissible in their dynamic as rivals.

But, as surprising as it was to admit, Bakugo had kept to her wish.

Where, overlooking those times she could feel his red stare lingering on her and searing notches into her neck, he had left her alone.

He would even give her a smile when their eyes locked gaze. Nothing like those blood-dripping battle grins but soft toothless quirks playing at the corner of his lips. Pleasant and weirdly hopeful, as though she’d come over and talk to him. Like they were friends.

Suppose she should believe Izuku when he told her Kachan was better. That he’d actually gone and grown up. That the hero course was succeeding in grooming him to become a fine hero, with the merit someone talented as him should have. That even they had a fighting chance at moving on, going back to how they’d push each other on the swing set back when they were four.

She doubted it.

She bet he’d be strung in his rightful and true colors not before long. Just red on red in red. Slipping right back into his ugly habits of making the world his playground and the people his toys.

This was just an act.

Those smiles he gave her were nothing but bait. Nothing but lies that would ensnare her in yet another decade of living under his boot.

But time is a funny thing. Where as much as you try fighting it, it always passes.

And paranoia is a difficult plant to grow during droughts.

And with months flying by, summer break being sweetly perfect for once, she’d soon enough discarded the notion that it was a trail bound to error or the calm before the storm.

In fact... she’d more or less let it fade like normal memories should. The open wound that used to be Bakugou’s sinister grin keeping her company at night had stopped bleeding.

And in the healing and pleasant quiet, she’d allowed herself to... let loose a little.

Or perhaps she’d just forgotten to be cautious when she was swept up in those ocean-blue eyes and that diamond-bright smile.

Maybe the warm, fuzzy feeling purring inside her gut was worth forgetting and even forgiving Bakugou in favor of getting lost to something else, someone else. Something a little warmer than hatred and a burning way more welcoming than what explosions Bakugou could offer her.

Meanwhile... Bakugou was going insane.

He’d been wrong.

He thought quitting his torment on her would be easier than with Deku, but Deku proved to be the least of his worries. In some form or way... they were actually getting closer. Going back to their roots and almost amounting to something he could only call brotherhood.

But with her...

It seemed he was only drifting farther and farther away.

He saw her hold hands with some blue-eyed fuck at lunch the other day. Heard her laugh, which pushed him with such force, thrusting him back in time. Retrieving some faint yet precious memory of her and him drying in the sun after bathing in the quarry on a warm summer’s day, back when no one and nothing could be more important than hearing that sound.

A laugh so light. So fluttering and blooming and beautiful. Followed by a snort that stuck in her nose.

It was enough to make his eyes shimmer and his ears burn while hanging onto every sound, trying to ingrain it, memorise it. Trying to ink down how it made him feel.

He made the mistake of finding her face in the crowd of what table she was seated at. Her small frame held inside the arms of the jerk she was pulled inside the lap of. A bright smile on both their faces, so bright he almost didn't even recognise her.

But it was her.

It shouldn't have surprised him.

He’d already seen the pictures on social media when going about his normal routine of checking up on all her different forums. Already fully aware of how the bastard was some summer fling she was the poor victim of.

He should have been prepared for it, but fuck....

It had hurt.

It had been loud and violent and jagged, like falling down a cliffside, yet so deathly silent as he sat safely in his room.

Kirishima and Denki were about halfway through their third or perhaps even fourth spliff. Laughing like clueless fucking morons without a shred or lick of issues and consequences. Having always just been nothing but laughs and smiles.

Fucking hell... He envied them so much sometimes. To be that dim. To be that careless and big-hearted and good-natured and...

It doesn't really matter.

Jealousy gets him nowhere.

He’s him, and they’re them, and fantasy is just that.

He knows this, and still, he finds himself fantasising about her smiling at him and giggling with him. Sitting in his lap. Whispering sweet little mischievous nothings in his ear and kissing him and talking to him and touching him and loving him.

He was so fucking frigid lately. So uncontrollably bothered and provoked and uncomfortable.

He’d even asked Deku who the fucker was. Had him spill all her dirty little secrets. How she’d been seeing the blue-eye fuck for a short while. How she thought he was really sweet and kind. How he made her happy.

And the more he let himself think about it, let it fester like acid bubbling and foaming on his heart, the more blinding the pain became.

And so following the pain, like it always does and always had with Bakugou...

Came rage.

She’d betrayed him. Broken his good will.

He should have known...

Give a bitch some lee-way with her leash, and she'll take a fucking mile.

He’d been so fucking good. So fucking perfect...

Leaving her be, allowing her friends, letting her prance about in her short school skirt without any comment, not even as much a curt whistle.

And this is how she chooses to repay him?!

Fucking with some fucking fucker right in front of him?

Right in his fucking face?

Fuck, he wanted to bash his brains out. Wanted to burn him from the inside out, watch his stupid blue eyes melt like runny rotten eggs.

He snapped the cafeteria chopsticks as easily as one would a toothpick in one hand. His eyes twitched while his nostrils flared, burning the wooden splinters in his white-knuckled fist as he watched them flirt.

Her in her thigh-high socks and tight white shirt, rubbing down against his slacks. Where he bet something was struggling to stay down. Stay hidden inside the fucker’s boxers.

But looking at his face and that bright, innocent smile shining as though he wasn't a disgusting man with ulterior motives, he could see why she chose the guy... instead of him.

He couldn't defend why he had him pushed into the wall behind the gym.

He could try and fool himself and the scared boy by saying he had responsibilities as her eldest friend. Alike a brother has responsibilities for his sister.

But that would be the dirtiest fucking lie.

Bakugou had no right, and he knew that, he really did. He felt it in his hands as they balled up the collar to the guy’s uniform. Had the poor sucker lifted off his feet with his bright baby-blue eyes freaking out when levelled by his own deadly red stare.

It wasn't done due to something noble like responsibility.

It was done out of pure toxic white-hot raging jealousy.

“Bakugou, man, what the fuck-” The guy tried, but the hero-course student was like a bull that saw red. Seething as he snarled into the poor boy’s face.

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

His knuckles whitened in their death-grip. Steaming with heat. Singing the fabric it clutched.

The poor boy kicked against the wall. Trying his best to reach down to the ground with the tips of his toes.

“Calm down- the fuck you talking about?” He screeched. His voice an unstable choked pathetic thing as he cowered in panic by the heat simmering close to his neck and the maroon slits that had him pinned.

“Quirkless.” Bakugou answered curtly. “Keep your fucking paws to yourself, shit-stain.”

“Quirkless?”

Split-second confusion narrowed into reliazation at the remembrance of what little information she’d given him about what strange relationship transpired between her and the loud hero-course student.

“You mean-” He started, but was once again pulled and slammed into the brick wall behind him. Knocking his head with a wince.

“Just stay away from her!” Bakugo barked again.

“Me?” The boy objected. Though, not really in any position to further anger the fire-wielder. “What about you? You’re the one she can't stand.”

Bakugo swallowed. Stopping.

“She said what?”

His grip loosened a pinch. Allowing the guy to drop down the wall to stand on his own. Though he still remained close.

His head hung slightly. Looking at his shoes. Put-out and thoroughly ticked off.

Dangerously so.

Nose flaring as he felt his eyes sting. Wanting to break something.

Preferably bones.

Meanwhile, blue eyes widened in realisation.

“Man... you... you like her, don't you?” He asked, or rather accused. His ears drawing back and hands rising in defence.

“Shut up.” Katsuki voice grumbled from a place the other kid couldn't see. Only the wild ash-blonde bush of hair that seemed to shake with either seething rage or a building sob.

He made the mistake of thinking it was the latter.

“You’re too late, dude... years too late.” He scoffed. Unsure if whether his disbelief outweighed outrage or amusement.

“I said-”

Bakugo lifted his head again. This time seemingly radiating with heat as sickeningly overwhelming as the scent of burning sugar.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Though with the threat of being charred into a crisp, the boy still hadn't the smarts to know when to quit.

“Should have thought about that before treating her like shit." He mocked. "She will never forgive you, Bakugou.”

Katsuki’s vision went blank at that, and the poor bright-eyed boy couldn't see anything but prickly spots of white in an otherwise sea of black.

Having had his head banged against the wall for one final time as he slumped down in a pathetic sack at Katsuki’s feet.

“Beating me up won't help your case.” He coughed. Groaning in pain.

A crisp chirp was heard and Bakugou snatched the phone that had slipped from the guy’s pocket.

Reading the label of a sweet nickname which made his stomach churn and head burn.

The text doing little to ease his building fuming boiling rage.

“She invited you to her apartment, did she? Tch- To watch Netflix.”

He put his fat military boot to the guys throat. Keeping it there with building pressure. Squeezing the air from his windpipe. Grinding him into the coarse bricks. Disregarding the weak hands that clutched to the fabric of his pant-leg desperately.

“If the little slut wants cock, she shouldn't be asking someone like you.” He sneered. Typing something back.

“Sick-fuck, leave her alo-”

The sweat boiling against his palm simmered in heatwaves, melting the phone before he finally ignited. Bits of glass and metal flying everywhere. Nicking his skin. Before he dropped the thing to the ground.

Unrecognizable.

A good reference to what the boy at the end of his foot would look like once Bakugou was through with him.

He could hear every little thump of his heart in his head.

Pumping in the tips of his fingers. Hot and numbing.

Tongue heavy in his throat as his jaw strained. Teeth grit in his mouth.

Fist clenching at his sides. Stained with crimson.

Eyes blood-shot as they focused on placing one foot in front of the other. Counting the steps while lifting his legs.

Boots sounding heavy and substantial in their echo as he climbed the stairs to where she waited ever so unknowingly.

Ever so excitedly. With a heart hammering quite similarly to how his was pounding. For much of the same reason.

Yet hers with an entirely different person in mind.

A person that was currently struggling to breath behind the gymnasium.

He bet she was getting ready with every virginal anxious thought running on replay in her head.

If she was sexy and sultry and smooth enough? Yet, not too much, because then she'd seem like a slut. But perfectly cute and shy and girly. Timid but lustful, precious yet wanton.

She was probably practicing batting her eyelashes and pouting and biting her lips. And how she would run her hands on his skin. How she would touch, when and what to touch. What to say, what not to say. How she was going to say it. What tone of voice. Like a whisper or a moan or a needy little whine.

Wondering if she smelled good. If he liked her perfume or if it was too pungent. Maybe he doesn't like her signature scent of fresh apples.

Pondering whether her hair was nice or not. If her skin was smooth enough. If her outfit was the right choice or if she should make a quick last second change.

She's probably hid her plushies. Taken down some childish anime posters she didn't want embarrassing her. Changed the sheets. Cleaned up the kitchen, cleared out the bathroom. Tidied up so he wouldn't know what a complete clutter-head she is.

She was probably getting all hot and bothered waiting for that blue-eyed shit-stain.

Rubbing her thighs together. Letting her hand dance down between them as she lost herself to the softness of the mattress. Letting the cool air nip at her fiery hot skin, kissing her blushed red cheeks. Eyes drifting to a close. Slight soft smile on her face. Legs spread on top of the sheets.

He bet she had lighted candles. Bet she had pre-picked a handful of movies. The soundtrack to what she would be losing her virginity to. Bet she had bought sweets, and cider, maybe even wine.

Bet she was planning to make the night perfect.

Too bad he was going to ruin it.

Just like he was going to ruin her.

Just like he had been ruining everything else for the past eighteen years of their life.

Just like he was going to continue ruining her until the day they die.

He banged on the door. Or rather, tapped a playful tune he thought would be similar to something the guy he’d bashed into a pulp not even half an hour ago would do. Something similar to what the girl behind the door was waiting to hear.

He heard her pad across the floor. Quick gleeful feet hopping to the entrance to swing it open with a great big goofy smile on her face.

Only to stop dead in her tracks.

Bakugou was taller. Bigger compared to what lean frame she was expecting.

Her eyes levelling at his chest, where she was expecting to see a familiar friendly face. Familiar pretty blue eyes.

Gaze rising to find him towering at the threshold to her home instead.

His sharp eyes looking every drop worth of red.

“Happy to see me?”

He pushed himself inside. Her along with him. Ever so rightfully in his stride. Stomping, like the floor beneath belonged to him. Like everything belonged to him.

“What are you doing here, Bakugou?”

Her tone was the same it always was when she addressed him. Annoyed and ugly. Like he was just another jerk. Just another face. Just another problem.

“I heard you were serving up your virginity...”

Her face grimaced.

“So... I came to have first take.”

Only now did she notice the blood.

Though not dripping from his fists anymore. The thickest parts were still glossy in texture. Still fresh. Whereas all else had turned sticky. Coating him like a second skin.

Her face shed its disgusted features and drained. Paled, chilled and tightened.

Scrutinising eyes turning wide like skies. Little flecks of shimmer flickering like starlight within the glossy pools.

Her mouth parted and hung open to let a gasp out as she eyed the blood-splatter on his jacket. Gaze glitching as she struggled to take in the maroon colour of his fists.

“Whu- what did you do? What did you do to him?”

She shook. Hands raising to level with her chest. Forming some type of feeble shield as she stepped away from the menacing man.

Bakugo simply followed. His dominant footing naturally succeeding hers. The space between them shortening quickly.

“Worried about your lapdog?” He laughed.

Stalking forward. He trapped her further into the apartment. Watching her petrified moves clumsily try and keep the distance.

“Don't think about it too much.”

“Get out, Bakugou. I'll call the cops.” She tried sounding strong even as she whimpered.

That made him crack a smile. And by All Might did it feel like it was the first time in such a very long time that he could finally breathe again.

“Why so hostile?” He barked out with another laugh. A growl like thunder behind that wide sharpened grin. “We’re friends, aren't we?”

His red-eyes gleaming. Just like they did all throughout primary-school. Just like they do when he’s about to beat the shit out of someone. Just like how they do when he can taste that addictive bitingly sweet flavour of victory on his tongue.

“Besides...”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her like he was admiring something.

“You’ll never make it to the phone in time.”

She should have run towards the bathroom instead.

Granted, that’s why he’d made the comment.

Make her think that the phone was of importance. Where it laid blank and black on her bed. The exact destination he wanted her.

It was of no use to her smashed against the wall.

Nor was she ever in reach of it anyway. Not with Bakugo and his blood-stained hands keeping her down.

“I've wanted you our entire fucking lives.” He seethed.

Strong dedicated hands curled around her wrists. Pressing her down into the mattress.

“I’m the only one who deserves you!” He roared into her ear. His words hot on her cheek.

Her eyes scrunched closed. Her face tight as she felt the heavy weight of the brute on top of her.

“And no one-”

His grip tightened as his voice turned so gruffly dark it made her heart stop.

“No one is going to take you away from me.” He growled. “Especially not some blue-eyed shit-eating waste.”

Greediness got the best of him this time as he dived in to take a kiss. One hungry, open-mouthed, wanting, lustful, desperate, raw and wolfish kiss. Where in all her fuelled panicked adrenaline, driving purely on blind instinct, perhaps also due to Bakugo not being used to handling something so much smaller, she managed to angle her legs in a way that gave her permission to knee him right in the groin.

Second chances are only given once. But she was a smart girl and knew she wouldn't make it to the door in time. Knew that her best hope was to lock herself in.

And if being quirkless had taught her anything, it was to hope for a hero to come to her rescue.

That her only chance was to pray for her blue-eyed angel to come and save her.

The bathroom was the safest bet for now.

He had to laugh as he grabbed his aching ball-sack through the slacks of his uniform. Torn between being impressed and pissed off.

He'd only barely missed grabbing her ankle before she slipped through the door and pulled it to a close. The click of a lock sounding off soon after.

“I was never good enough for you.” He growled. The sound muffled into the floor where he lied.

His fist clenched as he banged the shoddy faux-wood paneling.

“All our lives! Didn't matter what I did... you were always gonna hate me.”

She fumbled around the bathroom in a shaky frenzy. Eyes spiralling. Trying to find anything sharp. Anything at all she could use as a weapon if the door proved too weak to withstand the force of Bakugou.

“You were always gonna fear me.” He scoffed. "Weak and quirkless- heh... heck... it wouldn't even matter if I was quirkless too. You'd fear me either way."

Her heart beating like a galloping racehorse. Mind reeling in on the fact that he was taking his sweet time. Just like predators do when they’ve already caught their prey.

Playing with her.

“More than Deku ever did... But I guess I fucked with him differently from how I fucked with you.”

All she found was an old nail-filer. Not exactly sharp and not really at all that long. But her best and only option.

She knew it wouldn't do shit in the end though.

And then it was quiet again.

And she shook as she held onto her tiny weapon. Tears burning down her damp aching skin while every shuddering breath she dared supply her lungs with felt like it would cause her to combust as though she was made out up of thin glass.

And yet, in the chaos of fear, it was still so dreadfully painstakingly quiet.

Until he decided to break the silence again.

“He’s bleeding out where no one’ll ever find him...”

His voice wasn't haunting. It wasn't amused, but dead and had the ability to make her feel dead as well.

Blood freezing over. Heart eerily sinking like a block of led inside her. Skin crawling. Cold and raw and naked.

She shook. Looking back at the door. Admitting the flimsy wood was as much defence as paper to the hellhound on the other side.

Though, in the light of his taunt, her safety seemed miles away from her biggest worry.

“He’s dying, Quirkless.”

She knew then all she could do was watch.

Watch the tacky white paint-job flake on the planks.

Watch the door and wait for it to come splitting and splintering to oblivion. Like there was no door there at all.

But it hardly mattered...

What happens to her hardly matters.

Just like running to safety when Bakugo caught Deku and her in the school-halls wasn't ever what she did. No matter how much Deku would plead for her to run. She wouldn't.

She would do anything to switch places with him. Anything so he wouldn't be the one limping home with a cut on his cheek and a broken rib.

“And it’s all your fault.”

She whimpered at that. Nail-filer held tightly in her hand, but only for a couple more seconds until it went clattering to the cold tiles by her feet.

“You know how this works...” He said calmly. “You come out here... and I'll make sure he survives.”

She took a step closer to his voice. Knees numb and weak yet steady. Her hand reaching out to the doorknob. Blood prickling where it rushed about.

“You unlock the door. Step out in your pretty little dress... and I’ll go fetch the wine.”

She swallowed. Burning fingertips touching down on the icy metal of the knob. Trembling as she drew in a shaky breath, and pulled the trigger.

He heard the click of the lock opening and scoffed out a curt chuckle. Lips curling into a smile that showed off his teeth as he watched her small bare-foot step out.

Shiny leg following. Knees then after. The hem of her skirt that frilled loosely around her thighs. Up and up to the swell of her breasts and her chest. Her collarbones and neck.

And that pretty defeated little face.

He sauntered over to the kitchen nook where he’d spotted the wine. Washing the blood from his hands first while thinking it weird and silly and slightly shameful that he’d imagined this so many times.

Her in a pretty dress. Thin summer fabric, easily torn. Silky and form-fitting. Leaving just her natural silhouette.

Drinking red in a dimly lit room. The taste still on her tongue when he kisses her.

“Drink.” He commanded. His hand shoving the open bottle to her lips. Tilting it up and spilling it over her chest.

She gasped but did nothing to stop him. Not so much as backing away even.

She just stood there and bowed her head as the maroon liquid, strong in scent, stained her skin. Seeping through her clothing. Spilling down the valley between her breasts.

Making her shift uncomfortably as the stream trailed down to drip between her thighs. Soaking her underwear.

And then she sniffled. Biting her bottom lip, with brows curled into such an adorable woeful look it made him want to lick the tears off her precious little face.

He lobbed the empty bottle into a cushioned armchair. Hand returning to raise her chin with his knuckles. Pushing down on her lip with his thumb, hooking it onto the bottom row of teeth, making her gape as she looked up at him.

He had the thought of spitting. But, found that he didn't really feel like it.

“You never dared put a word to it.” He stated instead.

His red eyes somehow seeming so cold, so lifeless. His lips a stern firm line. Features blank beside the tension in his jaw.

“You’re afraid to acknowledge it.”

Thumbing her lip a second time as he licked his own. He brushed her hair behind her shoulders with his other hand. Knuckles gliding over the spaghetti-straps to her dress. Amusing the idea of how easy they’d be to rip loose.

Then acting on that very same thought.

Torn fabric pooled around her ankles as she stood there bleating. Still not daring to move a single muscle. Not with his thumb still in her mouth and the wine spilled on her skin still dripping down her legs making her shiver on a coat of goosebumps.

He licked his lips again with his eyes drinking in the sight of her glowing dewy skin. Looking to her face and how the hot streams of tears ran down her cheeks as silently as she could muster.

Removing his hand from her mouth. He turned around with a scoff.

Walking off to her bedside table. He sighed as he begun removing his rings. The ones that made it easier to split skin open upon impact.

She guessed she should have seen it as a relief. But, she couldn't bring herself to it.

“You'd never say anything, but you knew.”

He threw his grey blazer to the floor. Un-cuffing his sleeves before rolling them up to his elbows. Arms flexing while unbuckling his belt. Ripping the leather out through the reims and dropping it to the floor with a sharp clatter. Tugging loose his red tie to free his collar so that he could pop open the first three buttons of his shirt.

Getting comfortable.

“Shit- you must’ve known.”

He returned to where she still hadn't dared move a muscle. Her eyes only skittering around as he preformed his rituals.

The wine drying to a sticky thick sheen on her skin. Tinting her with pink.

“You never cried either.” He stated.

Though, it wasn't true.

“Deku would fucking wail like a kicked bitch, but you’d just stare at me... So much fucking hatred in your eyes...”

His hands dropped to his sides and her eyes anxiously trailed the thick veins running like lightning across his bulging muscles.

“No tears. No rage. Just hate.”

A tiny whimper sprung form the confines of her tight chest as he fingered the thin silky material of the lacy racy red panty at her hip.

Knees shaking as she bowed her head some more.

Toes curling into their own comfort. Trying to escape the threat of being crushed beneath his big heavy combat boots.

“But you cried.. when I touched you in ways I really shouldn't have.”

One time, she'd dared fall asleep at her desk. So tired from a night spent crying because she couldn't get Bakugou to stop dunking Izuku’s head in the nasty toilet bowls of the school bathroom.

Only to be woken up by Katsuki’s thick warm sluggish tongue gliding up her sore cheek as she hugged the desk.

Finding the video in her inbox of someone jacking off right into her unsuspecting sleeping face. Knowing it was Katsuki but having not a single way to prove it.

“When it was just the two of us and I said things and did things, touched things-”

He’d sweet talk with her mother. Acting so trivial with his handsome charming smile that would easily have any of the girl’s panties dropping if only he’d use it more often. Were it not for him wasting it on manipulating and arranging it so that he would be the one driving her home after school when he turned sixteen.

Brand new car and everything. Meant to impress her.

Perhaps she would have let herself fall for it if he hadn't put his hand on her thigh. If he hadn't locked the doors and trapped her in there with him.

Maybe she would have thanked him for the ride home if he hadn't made her beg him to get off her. Only allowed to go after he’d marked up her pretty neck and twisted a nipple or two once or twice until they were left sore.

“Made you do things, say things, give me things.”

He’d bargain with her often.

Give him her panties and he’ll leave Deku alone at lunch. Give him a minute in an empty class-room with just the two of them and he’ll leave them both alone for a grand total of a day.

And to no ones surprise. Feed greed and greed will grow like a weed.

Soon small exchanges turned to threats.

Telling her to stop hanging out with Deku or else he’ll beat the nerd within an inch of his life. Come to his house after classes or suffer the nastiest of rumors being spread about her all around school. Send him a pretty picture and he won't leak what other pretty pictures he’s taken when she wasn't looking.

“I thought you’d call me out on it...”

She felt the puffs of his breathing hit against the top of her head. Her eyes dead-set on watching the movement of his hands that now had taken ahold of her waist. His thumb messaging around the hipbone. Pulling her closer before he stepped to her side. His large palm laid flat on her belly. The other gripping her midriff as he stopped behind her. Hot air running down her neck and spine where his breathing turned rugged.

“Went over battle-plans in my head-” He chuckled. “How I’d say you'd become just as fucking obsessed with me as Deku. How you shouldn't flatter yourself. How fucking desperate you must be to be falling in love with your own fucking bully.”

He wasn't always bad.

In all their years. In all fucked-up relations. He’d never let anyone else ever pick on her.

Where after fights. Sometimes drunken and other times not. He would never fuss when she rinsed out his wounds and patched him up. Instead always giving his thanks in the form of leaving in peace.

Sometimes she wonders if that was the reason he started getting into fights in the first place...

To have her stitch him back up again.

But she’d always deemed the thought foolish. And if not that then... scary.

She stopped at one point. After the time he’d fucked Deku up so badly, she hadn't enough bandages for the both of them. Favoring the freckle-faced one and his second-degree burns above the ash-blonde and the minor gash he got when she pushed him away and he fell to the ground.

But... still...

He wasn't always bad.

In fact, be it a brief moment. Sometimes she would even forget he was bad at all.

Sometimes he’d crack a few jokes when driving her home. Cackle out a laugh that somehow seemed to warm her gut. His eyes gentle as he peeked over at her from the driver’s seat. One hand held lazily on the wheel. Sun glowing on his face. Making him look like a dandelion in its prime.

So soft and so childishly happy.

Until and unless, of course. He’d lock the doors with her inside, and refuse to take her home. Sometimes leaving her on the side of the road when she wouldn't repay him for his kindness.

He’d come back though...

Sometimes.

He wasn't always bad.

Which is what made it hurt so much more when he was.

Sometimes he’d be sweet. Leaving cupcakes outside her home for her on her birthday. Offering her his jacket or hoodie on cold days.

So sweet. He’d ask her about things.

How her day was. What she’ll be doing once she gets home.

And seem truly genuinely interested each time she’d offer him an answer.

He’d even be cute on some days too.

When she’d ask him in return.

He’d talk up storms of ambition miles out of her reach. Of his hopes and his dreams and pursuits.

And she’d almost believe that the reasoning behind his quirk was passion and not violence.

He wasn't all bad.

Even when he’d forced her into yet another study-date at his house. He’d still provide much better tutoring than anyone else ever managed.

Patient and determined. As though he truthfully cared. Even with his hand drawing greedy circles on the fat of her thigh. With his fingers tickling over the thin fabric of her undies as he made her sit on his lap.

He wasn't only bad.

Because when she cried. When he’d make her cry. He’d always stroke the tears away with his thumb.

He would hush and coo at her. Tread loose locks of hair behind her ears and put her head against his chest.

Squeeze her until she felt like a human being again. Until her breaths would calm down to let her settle fully into his embrace.

He isn't evil.

But...

If he thinks she would or could ever...

Fall in love with him...

Then he must be...

Insane.

She placed a small hand over his knuckles once the grip he had on her waist become more like a pinch than a caress. Soundlessly asking him to loosen up.

But, only succeeding in making him even more rowdy.

Her small body was pulled harshly back into him. Her back pressed firmly against his stiff warm chest as he nuzzled his chin into the nook of her neck.

Letting his nose run along her jawline. Rub against her ear.

His thick arms coiling around her like an overbearing hug. One that had his heart thumping brutally against her spine when beating out of his ribcage.

And dick growing warm and heavy and pointy against her ass.

“You never said a thing though... you just looked at me, with so much... horror.”

She winced.

Her hands ever so gentle. Laying themselves on top of his arms.

Feeling like toothpicks against steel.

But she couldn't very well do nothing when he was squeezing her lungs free of air.

“You fucking hated me.”

It almost sounded like he was crying. Like he was sorry. Like he was pained and in regret.

His head rubbing against her shoulder. Trying to hold her even closer. Lifting her to her toes as he hunched over her small breakable frame.

And she thought she heard a sniffle before he spoke up again.

“So, I’ve been thinking...”

His tone was steadier now. Hot against her ear.

And even hotter as he flicked her lobe with his tongue. Making her cringe out a fearful whimper.

“You want me to be the bad guy?”

Everything stilled.

“Fuck it- I’ll be the bad guy.”

At that she was thrown to the bed.

Weak knees carrying her staggeringly. Receiving the edge of the foot-end with her hands.

Though not left slumped against the mattress for long as strong hands once again imposed on her being.

Pulling at her by snatching the band of her underwear and yanking her up to be placed on the bed with no hope of scurrying away.

“Please-” She whimpered.

Her tiny hands gripping the bedsheets for support. Trying to soothe the ache of the wedgie her childhood bully was giving her a great nostalgia trip with.

He smirked sadistically down at her before dropping her down with a bounce on the bed. Pulling her arm to flip her over on her back.

“Is that the only word you know?”

He quickly got on top of her. Fitting almost immediately between her thighs. Kneeling whilst looming above her half naked vulnerable self.

His hand placed at her throat. Keeping her down.

Whereas the other stroked tentative fingers down the smooth skin of her stomach.

“I think you know my name too, don't you?”

“Please, Bakugo-”

Her hands clutched onto his arm. Legs kicking though having no target to hit where they were spread out on each side of his torso. Looking like a ladybug on its back.

“No-” He clicked his tongue while his hand closed in on the elastic band to her perfect red lace-panties.

Ones that seemed entirely picked out for him.

“That’s not what you used to call me.”

“Katsuki-” She sobbed. Wiggling beneath his touch. Trying desperately to shake him off like he was some bug leaching off her blood. “Please stop.”

“Wrong again.”

Her efforts where ignored by the ash-blonde looming above her.

His hand utterly unbothered by her squirming. Brushing warm digits over the fabric to her pretty lace bottoms. Feeling her warmth seep through the thin silk as his fingertips ran up and down, dipping slightly into the squishy sensitive flesh. Almost as though he was cuddling with her tender sex. Coaxing for a reaction.

“Kachan, please.” She whined and he closed his eyes for a brief second to enjoy the sound of the nickname.

Such potent nostalgia making his heart fuzz and stomach warm. Pool with something sticky and sweet.

An appreciative soft hum slipped from him. Pushing his otherwise stiff lips into a small smile.

“There we go.... Perfect. Just like the good ol’ days.” He mused. His hand still rubbing abrasively large fingers between the space of her thighs.

Thumbing at where he felt her little clit wake up.

“Keep begging. You’re good at it.”

Her throat buzzed with warmth beneath the weight and simmering heat of the hand wrapped tightly around it. Successfully keeping her down and pushed into her pillow with no hope of shimming away from the other dangerous venturing hand.

She blinked away more tears. Felt them trail down into her hairline by her temple, itching on her scalp. Whimpering at the feel of his teeth nip on her collarbone, his warm tongue licking at the bittersweet dried wine, and the surprisingly pillowy lips kissing at her shoulder.

“You don't have to do this...” She attempted when the hand around her throat moved slightly to grip her cheeks instead. His fingers pushing into each their cavity of plush flesh, making her pout like a fish. Her lips pushed into a makeshift kiss.

To no surprise he chose to ignore whatever pitiful plea she’d wasted her breathe on. Too focused on drawing patterns into the heat between her legs.

“Fuck- I’ve missed this face.” He moaned. His breath hitting her lips as she shook beneath him. “This fucking adorable crybaby face.”

He licked his lips again, and his shameless wanton eyes stared lustfully down at her own glossy ones.

“You look so fucking pathetic.”

His mind couldn't help but stray as his heart clenched with fear for a split second. Getting lost to the unsavoury memory... Wondering if that was what he had looked like when the sludge-villain had him neck deep in despair. When he couldn't breathe. And how the whole experience had left him wanting for a type of comfort he in no way deserved.

Where in the self-loathing...

Being a villain had never seemed quite so inviting.

She didn't expect the kiss to be so soft.

She thought he was going to bite and chew and swallow.

But he brushed his lips quite smoothly against hers. Swiping his tongue over her bottom lip before pushing gently through to taste her.

With it she forgot to breathe. And in that darkness and stillness of having her lifelong fiend kiss her with the care no one she’d ever kissed had given her, she was left listening to what soft hums left the brutish male on top.

Wondering why he so suddenly sounded like he was nothing more but a boy kissing his crush for the first time.

And perhaps she would have forgotten who it was completely...

If only it weren't for the greedy hand that had finally decided to push aside the flimsy lace and push through the tender neatly-shaven lips of her drooling virginity.

“Aww-” His voice scraped mockingly. Gutturally low and sadistically gleeful. Hot on her lips. “Did you get yourself all nice and ready for me?”

She winced out a whimper as he pushed a thick muscly finger into her hole, playing with the tightness for a moment before filling her up with the entire length of his large long-reaching digit.

“So wet-” He commented, much to her embarrassment.

Though in her defence she had been awaiting someone else in silly thrill for the past hours, preparing like a little girl before the first day of school.

“All hot and bothered, waiting for me to come?”

She sobbed in disgust as he started pumping and messaging her aching needy arousal. Her thighs trembling at how much the sticky warmth in her gut seemed to hum in utter betrayal by the blissful pleasure.

“You. Little. Fucking. Slut.” He whispered.

A haughty smile carved on his face as he watched the way her cheeks pooled with red and the shaky intake of breath on her lips, while feeling her tightness clench and pulsate on nothing more but one measly lonesome finger.

“How does it feel? Huh?” He panted against her cheek as she still ever so foolishly tried squirming away. “How does it feel to cum on my fucking hand? Same hand that’s been pushing you around your entire fucking life?”

She tried winding her thighs shut, but every shift had him sinking his finger in deeper and hooking it cruelly into her tightness.

“I bet you like it. No, I know you like it.”

He sunk a second one in and she cried out a wince, biting her lip to try and suppress the terrible treacherous moan that wanted to bloom from her throat as her pussy clenched, sucking happily on the new digit taking up the taunt space inside her.

“I can feel it plain and simple. Your slutty cunt clenching my fingers like your fucking life depends on it.” He snickered, knowing exactly what he was doing as he slid and slotted the two thick digits in and out while having his thumb pressing evilly into her clit, making her back want to arch off the bed as he kissed at her jaw, whispering his cruel words. “Fuck... I can even hear it.”

She wanted nothing more but to twist away, thinking things wouldn't be half as bad if she didn't have his lips on her cheek and his words tickling her ear and his eyes watching her every move as he made her cum on his hand with that sick twisted smirk on his face.

All she could do was count her blessing that he didn't have the ability to read her mind, because then he’d also know of how the growl in his throat still somehow managed to make the adder in her gut coil and purr with pleasure and how it made her cry in disgust of herself.

But then she was there.

Lips parted to gasp out the last moan yet caught by his and locked in yet another soul-sucking kiss that she now had not the strength or the mind to fight because all she could do was think of the fluttering rippling from the little pressure point found beneath his coarse thumb, and how with every little flick it sent blitz shooting through her core, zipping along her thighs, making her back lurch off the bed and into his chest, where his heart was panicking like a fucking madman with a hammer on an anvil.

His stomach warming at the sight of her all silken and soft and coming undone on his brutish hand, with her lips caught between his teeth as he kissed her like he was pouring his soul down her throat.

Until she woke up, after only a few passing seconds, a fleeting moment of bliss.

“You- you’re a fuck-king monster.”

Pained bleary oceans looked up into scarlet bloodbaths, yet couldn't see the amount of awe found in them, or saw it only to feel a deep shudder of disgust on the account of it.

The hand around her throat, kept there like a noose or a collar, didn't take kindly to her words.

Far from happy at how she chose to rob him of his satisfaction a moment too soon.

And if there’s one thing people know about Bakugo, it’s how if one indecent desire isn't satiated, he’ll gladly indulge another.

The strong trained hand made to squeeze frail fragile pipes.

His lips turned grim and stiff. Bloodthirsty eyes beholding what he’d always wanted to call his. Spiteful and desperate to make his wishes come true by any means necessary.

“This is how easy it would be, Quirkless.” He commented while listening to her choking.

Scarlet eyes watched, seemingly indifferent to the sight of her hopelessly trying to gasp for the air his hand wouldn't allow passage through to her burning lungs.

“It’d only take a minute and you’d be gone forever.”

He squeezed tighter and listened to her squeak.

Her little useless hands loosening their hold on his larger paw. Giving out, before his fist detached and she sprung back to life.

Coughing and gulping for air. Her hand soothing her throat as she tried curling up into herself, though not allowed to go anywhere but where Bakugo wanted her. His hands finding new purpose in holding her by the hips.

He pulled her naked body closer to his, which had her tender slick-soaked mess brush against the rough fabric to his pants, and her sensitive nipples, perky from the cool air, rub on his cotton-shirt.

“If I were you, I’d try figuring out ways to stay alive.”

Her lips quivered. Brows furrowed as she looked at him, thinking she’d never seen him quite this stone-cold.

Feeling that little ounce of hope she still had left for the boy in her heart flicker with its last will. Snuffed out by how he dragged her off her back and made her sit on his lap.

His harsh fingers burying themselves in the dough of her hips while his erection laid like a large bump of scratchy material against her clit, making her cringe as she trembled with tears falling silently in thin streams down her cheeks.

“Remember what you said to Deku when the shrimp tried fighting back?”

She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Feeling a hand leave her hip, and soon after the rip of a zipper being pulled. Her shoulders sinking as her breath shuddered.

“He’s not worth it.”

She felt his thighs shift beneath her, but she didn't dare open her eyes.

All she could do was swallow and feel the cold air brush against her naked flesh as she heated up by the fact that Katsuki was pulling his dick out with the intention to sink it inside her.

“I slapped the old hag that day when she asked me what was wrong. Square across the face. She had burns for months.”

She whimpered when she felt his breath on her cheek, and recoiled back, though held firmly and painfully by the large hand on her hip.

“You want me to slap you?” His voice was weirdly sweet whilst a knuckle went sliding against her cheek to pull the curtain of hair out of her face.

His lips soon pressing against her cheek as she choked on her own whimpering shallow breaths.

“No, right?” He whispered and that’s when she felt it.

Plush like velvet, squishy and warm, burning, thick and rounded, bobbing against her clit, being pushed to slide through her folds, make her squirm on top of him.

“So be a good slut and ride my fucking dick.”

He added pressure to the small of her back.

The slight inclination of heat and sweat in his palm telling her to move closer until she was hovering above something else that was radiating heat between her thighs.

Brushing up against her opening.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt it push, and she opened her eyes to look at him with the most pleadful expression she could muster.

Her lips trembling to their complete own accord, and brows joining the same dance of tremor.

“Kachan-”

But there was nothing staring back at her.

Nothing she could call human.

Not kindness nor mercy.

Not even pity.

“Come on, Quirkless. Show me what you were gonna do with that blue-eyed fuck.”

He didn't make a single move, as though he was waiting for her to do it for him.

“Don't be shy. Come on, slut.”

His fingers dug into her hips and she knew, by the burning cold in his eyes, he was dead-set on making her feel every lick of his hatred.

And it was hatred.

She couldn't allow it to be anything else.

She couldn't bare the thought of it being anything remotely similar to love as she lowered her hips slowly for him to fill her up inch by thick inch, sliding inside her wet virgin walls, all the way to the hilt, until his bulging head kissed sweetly into her screaming cervix.

It couldn't be love.

She didn't get a second to think before his hand once again grabbed ahold of her face.

His sandpaper fingers mushing her soft cheeks, making her stare into his bleeding-red look with those moon-wide tear-soaked horrified pretty eyes.

“Is this what it takes for you to notice me?” He puffed. “Huh? Can’t fucking focus without me threatening your life?”

She still flinched at the sharpness of his words. Feeling cold and tense and so very dreadfully alone, even with him twitching inside her.

“Am I only worth it when I got my cock balls-deep inside you?”

She closed her eyes but it was a mistake.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, fucking bitch!” He barked. Spit flying into her squished face a mere half-inch away from his teeth. “You want me to fuck you like one? Bend you over, make you take it from behind, on your knees with your face down, like a good for nothing cum-dump whore?!”

His other hand pulled her even closer, made her tits hug against his chest where he still hadn't bothered removing his shirt. Buttons sharp and abrasive against her flesh as she shook at the feel of his cock warming and stretching her out. Weirded-out with how it sat lodged so well inside the comfort of her pussy, and how she was unwillingly clamping down around the girth of him, sucking on him gratefully, happily and passionately like how they used to huddle for warmth at nap-time on playdates.

He kissed her again. His forehead pushing achingly into hers. Noses hugging. Lips strutting forward and pressing into hers like letting go meant dying, where even his breath shuddered as she could swear his eyes seemed a bit more glossy then than before. Though it could easily have been brushed off as just a trick of the light in the dimly lit bleakness of her apartment in the night.

"Do you-" He whispered in a voice like from a complete different person. “Remember our first kiss?”

It had been back when they were only four and having only the slightest clue what kisses even were, but she could never forget it.

“You told me I sucked.” He added.

“I- I told you not to use so much teeth.” She whimpered. Voice weak and blubbering like it had been back in kindergarten. Soft and sweet and shy and only barely above a whisper.

“Guess I never learn...”

He didn't pull away. Their foreheads still seemingly glued together. Noses bumping. Breaths cohesive.

“You haven’t changed much since then either.”

That broke her heart.

His hands tightened against her flesh.

“Now ride. Or next time I fuck you, blue-eyes rotting head will be watching us.”

TIP-JAR

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