#botanicwrites

[botanicsoul]

Addict in full bloom

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

• MDNI!! (18+)

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Bakugou had never had a real girlfriend before you. Sure, he’d kissed a few girls, gotten a handjob or two—hell, maybe even gone down on someone once—but sex? That was something he never cared to try. Not until you.

The moment he finally had you, it was over. Katsuki was insatiable. Obsessed. A damn addict. If he wasn’t thinking about touching you, he was already doing it. Sneaking into your dorm when everyone else was asleep just to have you, only to wake you up hours later for another round before first period. He didn’t give a damn if you were tired—his hands were already pulling you close, lips pressing against your ear as he growled something filthy about how much he needed you.

Study sessions? Yeah, those were a joke. He’d start with his books open, acting like he gave a shit, but the second you leaned in too close or bit your lip in concentration, they were forgotten. Before you knew it, he had you bent over the desk, one hand gripping your hip, the other covering your mouth to muffle your moans.

Skipping training? It started as an accident—one missed session because he was too busy pinning you to his bed, your fingers tangled in his hair as he lost himself in you. Then once turned into twice, and before he knew it, he was making excuses to Kirishima, shrugging off practice like it wasn’t a big deal. After all, he had a new favorite way to work up a sweat.

And in between classes? During lunch? If he could find an empty space—an unused classroom, a janitor’s closet, even the back of the school building—he was taking advantage of it. It didn’t matter if you whined about getting caught, he’d just smirk, pressing you against the wall and murmuring,

“Then you better keep quiet, sweetheart.”

He never thought he’d be this desperate for someone. This hungry. This fucking gone. But you? You turned him into something unrecognizable—something downright feral. A fucking addict.

[botanicsoul]

Behind the Screen

Pro Hero | Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Blogger Reader | Aged Up

Part 2 -> Here

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

—

You post it as a joke. Kind of.

It’s late, and you’re curled up in bed with your fanfic draft open and half a Twix in your mouth. Your followers are going wild in the replies, and you’re riding the high of being the “unofficial Dynamight smut queen” of the timeline. You’ve been known for your over-the-top thirst tweets, but this one? This one’s feral.

—

@/blastyourbackout

“Dynamight wouldn’t even take the suit off. He’d fuck you with the gauntlets still on, breathing heavy through gritted teeth, all ‘Shut up and take it—this is what you wanted, right?’”

—

You toss your phone. That’s enough unhinged behavior for the night. Until the morning comes—and you wake up to hell.

Your tweet is trending. His name is trending. People are tagging him.

—

“this is NASTY and i love it.”

“@Dynamightofficial please read this and confirm or deny.”

“If Dynamight didn’t do this, I’d be shocked.”

“SOMEONE CHECK ON HIM”

“@Dynamightofficial thoughts??”

Then it happens.

—

@Dynamightofficial :

“Who tf is behind this account.”

“If you’re gonna talk like that, be brave enough to show your face.”

You nearly throw up. Your DMs? Melted. And sitting right at the top.

[Private Message – @Dynamightofficial]

“You write a lotta shit for someone who hides behind a screen.”

“You really think I’d leave the fuckin’ suit on?”

“Show me your face if you’re gonna say it like you know me.”

Your heart is pounding. And you shouldn’t. But you do. You send a selfie. Just a soft one. T-shirt, messy hair, bare face. You look like someone who absolutely shouldn’t be writing the filth he just read.

There’s a long pause.

He starts to finally type:

“…fuck.”

“You’re cute.”

“like super fuckin’ cute”

“You don’t look like someone who says I’d blow your back out against a fuckin’ window.”

You:

“I mean… would you?”

Him:

“You really wanna know?”

“You clearly think you know it all, writing the way you do.”

“So what—wanna let me show you what it’s really like?”

You pause. Breathless. Fingers trembling.

“Yes.”

⸻

A few days later, the meet-up actually happened.

You gave him your address—half-joking, half-panicking when he immediately replied with a thumbs up and a “Bet.”

You spent the next two days spiraling.

Cleaned every inch of your apartment. Shaved, exfoliated, moisturized places you didn’t even know needed it. Practiced how you’d open the door without looking like you were seconds from passing out. Told yourself it was just casual, just fun, just… whatever. you totally weren’t about to get fucked dumb by your fav pro that you write smut about.

Except it wasn’t. Because now. He’s at your door.

And he’s in the fucking suit.

Mask off. Jaw set. Gloves still on. That big, broad chest rising and falling.

Black and orange, thick with tension and sweat and that sharp smoky scent that clings to him after a patrol. His hair’s a mess. One gauntlet is attached, the other dangling from his hip. And he’s just standing there—broad, massive, silent—like he owns the whole building.

You freeze. Your heart slams.

“…Hi,” you manage to say.

His eyes drag over you—down your legs, over the shorts you probably could’ve made smaller and the tank top that wasn’t technically meant to be seductive, but absolutely became that under stress.

“Damn,” he mutters. “You look even better when you’re nervous.”

You try to laugh but it comes out breathless. “You really wore the suit?”

“uuuh yeah? did you think I was gonna show up here in a hoodie after all the shit you wrote about this thing?” He steps closer. “Thought I’d let you see it up close before I ruined your sheets.”

Your knees go weak.

You try to respond—something witty, something smug—but your words get caught somewhere between your throat and the fact that he’s already inside. Pushing the door shut behind him. Glancing around like he’s checking for cameras, or exits, or maybe just where he’s gonna lay you out first.

“You ready?” he asks, voice low. Rough. Already undoing the gauntlet from his wrist with one hand, tossing it aside.

You nod, dazed. “Yeah.”

He smirks—steps in closer until you’re backed up against the nearest wall, breath catching.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been losing sleep over the way you said I’d fuck you in this suit.”

You stare up at him, completely wrecked just by his presence, and whisper, “Was I right about some of this stuff I wrote?”

He dips his head down, lips brushing yours—barely.

“I’m here to fact check it.” he growls.

You shudder.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, eyes dragging down your body like he’s mentally ripping off every layer.

He hasn’t even touched you properly yet—but your back’s against your door, your legs are trembling, and Bakugou’s towering over you like he’s already won.

“That tweet got me thinkin’ about you all fuckin’ day, baby. Let’s see if you write better when you’re sore.”

His hero suit creaks with every breath. Heavy-duty gauntlets still locked around his wrists. His undersuit clings to him, black and orange and unforgiving across his chest, his thighs—everything.

“You scared?” he asks, voice low. His hand comes up—gloved fingers trailing under your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Or just nervous I’m actually gonna live up to that filthy little imagination of yours?”

Your breath catches.

“…both.”

He smirks. Then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not sweet. It’s not careful. It’s everything you wrote about—demanding, rough, obsessed. He kisses like a man starved. Like he’s been reading your tweets on loop.

And god, when his hand slides down your waist—those big gloved fingers gripping your ass, hoisting you up—your back hits the wall and you let out a soft, stunned whimper.

“That the sound you make when you’re not behind a screen?” he growls, lips dragging along your neck. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re even better in person.”

You try to answer, but he’s already slipping one hand between your thighs, dragging his knuckles over your heat—still covered by your shorts.

“Wrote that I’d be mean with it,” he murmurs. “That I’d tease you. Make you beg.”

His gloved finger presses just right over the damp spot in your underwear.

“So beg.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. You feel insane.

“P-Please.”

He groans. “That all I get after all those filthy paragraphs?”

“Dynamight—”

His eyes flash. “Katsuki.”

You pant, skin burning.

“Please, Katsuki.”

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He carries you to your room practically kicking the damn door down. Your back hits the mattress, but he doesn’t follow right away. He stands at the edge of the bed, breathing heavy, gaze dark and hungry.

His suit’s half-unzipped now—exposing his chest, glistening with sweat and tension—but everything else stays on. That thick black material clings to his arms and thighs like sin. The gauntlets drop to the floor with a heavy thud, but the gloves? Still on. And he flexes his fingers slow—just to watch you squirm.

“You’re fuckin’ dangerous,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your body like he’s trying to memorize it. “Sittin’ there on your little blog, makin’ people think you’ve got me figured out.”

Your thighs squeeze together. He notices. Smirks. “Lemme show you how right you were.”

He crawls over you like a storm. Muscles shifting under his suit, voice dipping low, filthy, as he shoves your shirt up, lips ghosting over your stomach.

You arch when his teeth graze your hip. “Katsuki—”

“That’s right, baby,” he mutters, pulling your shorts off slow. “Say my name when you write about this later too.”

He pushes your thighs open, and he goes down. Tongue eager. Desperate. He eats you out like he’s proving a point—like he’s got something to prove to every single tweet you’ve ever posted. Groaning into you, gripping your thighs tight like he wants to leave handprints. You’re moaning, shaking, gripping the sheets, and he’s just eating it up—literally.

He comes up with his mouth slick and eyes wild. “Not even close to done with you.” And he isn’t.

He flips you. Presses you into the mattress. One hand on your hip, the other grabbing your wrist and dragging it up the bed.

“Hold that headboard, princess.” You feel him line up—still in the damn suit—and your breath catches as he sinks in.

Slow. Deep. Bruising.

“Fuck,” he hisses, jaw clenched. “You feel like I imagined. So fuckin’ tight, so wet—shit.”

You cry out. He starts moving. Harder. Deeper.

Every stroke is a claim. His hand slides down your back, then back up to wrap around your throat—not choking, just holding. Just letting you feel it.

“Write about this next time” he growls into your ear. “Write about about me makin’ you cum multiple fuckin’ times.”

You whimper—high, breathy, wrecked.

“That’s right. Take it. You wanted this.”

“I did,” you gasp. “I wanted you—”

“You fuckin’ got me now.”

When you fall apart—completely, wildly, back-arching and moaning his name like a prayer—he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow.

Because he’s obsessed now. Addicted.

Your thighs are trembling. Your voice is hoarse. Your sheets are a mess—twisted, damp, clinging to your skin like the heat of him isn’t already enough.

He’s still going.

“One more,” he grits out, thrusts snapping into you slow and deep. “C’mon, baby—just one more for me.”

You’re barely hanging on—nails dragging helplessly down his back, vision blurry with overstimulation, body trembling under him as he rocks into you, all tight grunts and low, broken groans.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temples. “Takin’ me so good—fuck—you feel like you were made for me.”

You moan, shattered.

He growls, fucks you harder, chasing his release like a wildfire. And when he finally gets there—when you clench around him, gasping out his name in a breathless sob— He snaps.

“Knew it,” he groans, hips stuttering. “Knew I’d fill this pussy the second I saw you.” oh, and he does. Deep. Warm. Heavy. Flooding you.

He keeps moving—shallow, deep rolls—just to push it in. Just to feel it drip. Just to make it last. His head drops to your shoulder, lips brushing your skin.

You barely register him pulling out until you feel it—messy, hot, dripping down your thighs.

“fuuuck you’re beautiful” he murmurs smirking down at you. Wrecked, ruined, glowing. He lays down beside you, just looking at you like you were a fucking trophy.

He then reaches for his phone.

—

[New Tweet – @Dynamightofficial]

“Just fact-checked one of your little fantasy tweets. 11/10 accuracy. Would reread. Would re-enact.”

—

You see what’s he doing and it snaps you out your daze, your eyes go wide. “You didn’t—!”

“Too late,” he shrugs. “Let ‘em guess which one it was.”

You grabbed your phone just as quick to quote it.

—

[New Tweet – @blastyourbackout]

“Just know the gloves stayed on.”

—

The internet breaks.

You can barely feel your legs.

And Katsuki Bakugou? THE pro hero Dynamight?

He’s already rolling over, tugging you to his chest, muttering in your ear, “Hope you’re not tired, princess. I’ve got a lot more tweets to prove right.”

[botanicsoul]

Bigger Where It Counts

Age up | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

-> for my itty tiddy committee babes 🍒

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

You flop down onto the couch in just one of Katsuki’s old t-shirts, sighing dramatically as you glance down at your chest.

“I swear, Bakugo,” you mutter, cupping your boobs, “you’ve got bigger tits than me.”

He looks up from the kitchen, one brow twitching. “The hell did you just say?”

“I said you’ve got the chest in this relationship. Mine look like two polite suggestions compared to your built like a Greek god situation.” You poke your own chest, then point at his. “It’s honestly offensive.”

He tosses the dish towel aside, storming over with a scowl and a wild little glint in his eyes. “Yeah? Well, I don’t want another version of me in my bed. I want you.”

You laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I mean it, dumbass.” He grabs your face and kisses you hard, practically knocking the breath out of you. “I don’t give a shit about how big your tits are… Still the one I come home to, hard as a rock, just from remembering how you sound when I touch you and how nicely your tits bounce a little in my face when I fuck you.”

Your eyes almost busted out your damn skull and your cheeks burned. “suki—”

“And for the record,” he mutters, sliding his hands under the hem of your—his—shirt, “they’re the perfect size for me to get my mouth around. Wanna see?”

“shit”

Your breath hitches as he kneels between your legs grabbing one of your tits and giving your nipple a pinch in between in rough fingers, eyes dark, grin wicked. “Because I’m pretty sure I could spend all night showing you.”

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

-> here is one for my bigger chested babes 🍈🍈

[botanicsoul]

Knock Next Time

Timeskip | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Room: dark. Door: locked—he swore he locked it. Clothes: everywhere.

His hands were under your thighs, spreading them wider on the couch, his hips grinding against yours, both of you breathing hard and fast, lost in each other, your hands buried in his hair while his mouth was on your neck, moving lower, hungrier, rougher.

“Katsuki,” you whispered, gasping when his hips rolled against yours. “God, you feel so—”

Click.

Door opens.

“Yo, Bakugou! Have you seen my—”

Silence.

Eye contact.

Chaos.

Denki stood frozen in the apartment doorway. Bag in hand. Keys still dangling from his fingers. And eyes locked on the absolutely-naked, very-much-mid-fuck position happening on the shared living room couch.

Bakugou didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Then—death.

“DENKI, I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU.”

“OH MY GOD—OH MY GOD—”

“WHY DID YOU COME HERE?!”

“DUDE WE SHARE THIS APARTMENT!!” Denki screeched, flinging his hands over his eyes. “I SIT THERE, MAN! I EAT CHIPS THERE!”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONE FOR THE DAY?!”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE THERAPY IS?!”

You were desperately trying to cover yourself with a throw pillow that covered nothing, blinking in humiliation as Bakugou lunged for his hoodie and yanked it down over your body while simultaneously launching a remote control at Denki’s face.

“You don’t KNOCK, you don’t TEXT, you don’t even say you’re COMING BACK—WHAT THE FUCK, DUNCE FACE?!”

“I WAS GONE FOR TWO HOURS—I CAME BACK FOR MY PHONE CHARGER BECAUSE I FORGOT IT!!”

“WHICH IS TWO HOURS TOO SHORT AND FUCK YOUR PHONE YOU CAN CHARGE THE BITCH YOURSELF!”

Denki shrieked as a second throw pillow flew past his head and slammed the door shut. You and Katsuki sat there panting, tangled together, his hands clenched into fists like he was going to physically hunt Denki down.

You burst out laughing.

He whipped his head toward you. “The fuck is so funny?!”

You wheezed, pressing your face to his neck. “The look on his face. You could’ve cooked an egg on it.”

“He saw your tits,” he muttered, voice like gravel.

“Oh my god,” you teased, cupping his cheek. “Is the big bad Dynamight getting all possessive?”

“I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered darkly, already reaching for his phone.

You snatched it before he could text a death threat. “How about round two instead?”

His red eyes flicked to yours. Heat—instant. Rage softened into that lazy, smug smirk you knew way too well.

“Yeah,” he said, dragging you back into his lap. “He’s already traumatized. Might as well make it worth it.”

——

It was a few days after that incident, and you were both still trying to ignore what had happened.

Denki, of course, made it his very own mission to ruin your lives the moment you showed up at dinner that night. With a wide grin and the most ridiculous level of enthusiasm, he leaned toward you both, his voice way too loud.

“So, how was the private time, huh? Did you guys, uh—” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Finish what you started?”

Bakugou nearly shot up from the table, his fist clenched, ready to beat Denki’s face in.

“I WILL END YOU, YOU DENSE BASTARD—DON’T FUCKIN’ TALK TO HER.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess we’ll just have to be more careful next time.”

Denki threw his hands up. “All I’m saying is… that was way more than I bargained for.”

“Yeah?” Bakugou growled, glaring at him with murder in his eyes. “Well, you better learn how to knock. Next time, i’ll shove that charger straight up your ass.”

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

[botanicsoul]

Eyes Up Here

Aged up | Possessive!Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Reader

-> This one’s for my bigger chested babes🍈🍈

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

It’s sunny, warm, and perfect for walking hand in hand down the street with your boyfriend. You’re dressed for the heat—light denim shorts that hug your hips and a yellow low-cut tank top that gives just the right amount of bounce and peek.

You’d noticed his mood shift about three blocks ago.

He was quiet, more than usual, walking half a step behind you. But you knew Bakugou, and you could practically feel the heat of his glare every time someone else’s eyes lingered on you too long. His grip would tighten around your hip whenever that happened, thumb pressing into the waistband of your shorts.

So naturally, you played it up. A little extra sway in your hips, a stretch when you reached for your drink, a smug little smirk when you heard him grumble under his breath.

“Katsuki,” you sing-songed as you reached a patch of flowers blooming by a café wall. “We need a picture. The light is perfect.”

He snorted, lips curled. “Seriously?”

“Come on, plus you look hot today.” You dragged him in beside you and held your phone up. “Smile, babe. Just once. For me.”

You flipped to selfie mode, adjusting the angle. Your tank dipped low with the way your arm was lifted, giving the camera an unobstructed view of your cleavage. You looked damn good, and you knew it.

But before you could snap the picture—

A warm hand slapped over your chest. Then, in one swift, unapologetic tug, Bakugou yanked the hem of your tank up, covering the curve of your breasts with a grunt of pure annoyance.

“Katsuki!”

“You’re not fuckin’ posting that,” he growled into your ear, hand still fisted in your shirt, keeping it high.

You twisted to glare at him. “It wasn’t even that bad!”

“The hell it wasn’t,” he muttered, eyes scanning your face—then your chest—then the street, as if daring anyone to be looking. “You think I didn’t see that guy over there just now? Mouth open like he was starin’ at a damn dessert menu.”

You burst out laughing. “So what? I am dessert.”

He grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, but you’re my fuckin’ dessert.”

“Oh my god, Katsuki—”

He leaned in, crowding close, hand still gripping your tank. “You’re walkin’ around with your tits half out like you want people lookin’. You tryin’ to start somethin’? Hm?”

“You’re so dramatic, it’s not my fault their big—”

“I’m serious.” His voice dropped lower, hotter, lips brushing your ear. “You don’t wanna know what I’d do if you actually posted that. let people see what’s mine.”

Your thighs pressed together instinctively at the tone, at the way his fingers lingered at the top of your shorts like he was one second away from slipping them in, right there on the sidewalk.

“You’re so possessive,” you whispered.

“You fuckin’ love it,” he replied, smirking when your breath hitched.

And the worst part? He was right.

He let go of your tank only when it stayed put, satisfied with the new, more “modest” arrangement. You snapped a photo anyway, catching the moment: your lips parted in shock, his hand mid-grab, his eyes narrowed like he’d just claimed territory—and dared anyone else to try.

“You’re insane,” you murmured, grinning as you looked down at the photo.

“Keep testin’ me,” he muttered, brushing a possessive kiss to your temple. “Next time I’m makin’ you take the picture with my hand down your shorts so they really know who the fuck you belong to.”

Your breath caught. “Katsuki—”

He shot you a wicked smirk. “Go on, post that, sweetheart.”

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

-> here is one for my smaller chested babes 🍒

[botanicsoul]

Rush of petals

Katsuki bakugou x (fem)Reader!

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

The sun hadn’t even hinted at rising when you felt it—calloused fingers gripping your hip, rougher than usual, firm enough to stir you from sleep. Your brows furrowed, half-dreaming, until his voice dragged you into reality.

“Get on your side,” he growled against your ear, the heat of his breath trailing down your neck.

You blinked, still dazed. “Suki?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep. “I’m going to be late baby hurry”

Usually, he was gone by now—quiet kisses to your temple before slipping out the door. But not this morning. This morning, something had him wound tight.

You did as he said, rolling onto your side, the sheets slipping down your bare back. He was already behind you, pressing close. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing it forward, giving him room. The heavy weight of him settled behind you, thick and hard against the curve of your ass.

“You looked too fuckin’ pretty sleepin’. Couldn’t leave without takin’ you first,” he muttered, mouth brushing your jaw.

A soft gasp escaped you as he slid inside in one slow, claiming thrust, your body welcoming him like it always did. He grunted low in his throat, holding your leg in place while his hips snapped forward—relentless, controlled, a pace that said he didn’t have much time but needed this like oxygen.

Each thrust punched little sounds from your lips, the pressure of his arm around your waist keeping you grounded. His teeth grazed your shoulder, tongue following, and you knew he was marking you.

“Gonna think about this all day,” he muttered, hips stuttering as your body clenched around him. “You—wrapped around me like this. Fuck.”

You barely had time to respond, to chase your own high before his hand slipped down your stomach, fingers slipping between your legs with practiced ease, his fingers circling your clit. You came with a choked moan, burying your face in the pillow as he followed soon after, biting down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stayed there, heavy and warm against your back.

Then, quietly, with the kind of softness only you ever got. “Sleep a little more, baby. I’ll be back before dinner.”

And just like that, he kissed your shoulder and vanished like a dream.

[botanicsoul]

Roses can wait

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Explicit (18+)

Description: Bakugou was determined to ruin you, and he wasn’t about to let a phone call stop him. Now? You were going to pay for it.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Bakugou had you spread out on your bed, legs hooked over his shoulders, his tongue dragging slow, lazy circles over your clit. His fingers curled inside you, stretching you open, teasing that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

It was embarrassing how fast he had you unraveling, body trembling under his touch, gasps and moans slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

“You’re so fuckin’ sensitive,” he muttered, voice muffled as he flicked his tongue against you. “Haven’t even gotten started, and you’re already falling apart.”

“K-katsuki—” You choked on your words when he sucked your clit into his mouth, groaning like you were his last meal.

Then—your phone rang.

You barely registered it at first, too drunk on pleasure, but the name flashing on the screen caught your attention. Mina.

You reached for it with shaky fingers, and Bakugou—who definitely noticed—grinned against your skin.

The second you answered, his mouth was on you again, tongue dipping into your entrance, fingers pressing deeper, harder.

“Hey, Mina,” you breathed, trying—and failing—to sound normal.

“Hey, babe! Just wanted to remind you we’re going on our double date in an hour! You guys didn’t forget, right?”

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes flicked up to yours, dark with amusement. His lips brushed your clit as he murmured, “Better keep talkin’, sweetheart.”

Your body jerked at the vibration of his voice, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.

“I—n-no, I didn’t forget,” you said, voice a little too breathy.

Mina giggled. “You sure? You sound kinda out of breath. You okay?”

Bakugou chuckled into your cunt, dragging his tongue up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth, hard. You slapped a hand over your mouth, muffling the desperate sound that almost slipped.

“I-I’m just—uh—” Your breath hitched when he added a third finger, stretching you wider. “Getting r-ready!”

Bakugou nipped at your inner thigh, eyes gleaming. “Damn right you are.”

Your free hand fisted in the sheets as he worked you over, lips and fingers moving in sync, his tongue pressing slow, deliberate strokes against your swollen clit. The heat in your stomach was unbearable, a desperate ache building, pushing you closer—

“Great! I’ll see you both soon then, yeah?”

Your entire body tensed. Bakugou fucking knew you were about to come. His tongue flicked faster, fingers moving in a way that had your vision going white.

“Y-Yeah, see you soon!” You rushed out, immediately tossing your phone aside, barely hearing Mina’s goodbye before you hung up.

The second the call ended, your head dropped back with a strangled moan, pleasure crashing into you as your orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs clamped around Bakugou’s head, your back arching off the bed as you came hard, waves of heat rolling through you.

But he didn’t stop.

His fingers kept moving, his tongue dragging through your folds, slow, teasing licks that had you whimpering. Your body jerked with overstimulation, thighs twitching, but Bakugou held you down, sucking your clit back into his mouth as you sobbed.

“Too much—” You gasped, hands weakly pushing at his head.

Bakugou only chuckled, nipping at your thigh. “Nah, you can take it.”

His fingers curled again, pressing deep, and you let out a broken whimper, legs trembling. Your body was still too sensitive, but that only egged him on. He was watching you so closely, eating up every little sound, every twitch.

“You think you can answer the phone when I’m eatin’ this pretty little pussy?” His voice was smug, fingers still buried inside you.

“I-I thought it was important!”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers—only to slap your clit, making you yelp.

“You’re a real brat, y’know that?” He leaned over you, pressing his fingers to your lips. “Open.”

You obeyed without thinking, tongue darting out as he slid his fingers into your mouth. The taste of yourself coated them, warm and slick, and his pupils blown as he watched you suck.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” His voice was low, thick with arousal. “S’pose I should reward you for bein’ so sweet.”

He smirked, dragging the head of his cock through your soaked folds.

“Now, lemme see how many times I can make you come before dinner.”

His cock was still buried deep inside you, his breath hot against your lips, his body radiating heat as he came down from his high.

But you weren’t catching a break.

Bakugou’s hands wandered, trailing down your sides, across your stomach, his fingers brushing over the mess between your thighs. His touch was too gentle, too teasing—and you knew exactly what that meant.

“You still got an hour ‘til dinner, don’t you?” His voice was smug, breathless, but still cocky as ever.

Your body twitched at the implication, still reeling from the last orgasm. “Katsuki—”

He smirked, dragging a thumb through the mixture of his release and your arousal, bringing it up to your clit. He barely applied pressure, just a slow, lazy circle—just enough to make you twitch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, down your neck. “Thought you wanted to see if you could handle it?

You whimpered, thighs trying to close around his hand, but he tut-tutted, forcing them apart.

“you’re actin’ shy?” His lips curled into a smirk, fingers dipping lower, teasing your oversensitive entrance. “Nah, baby, you don’t get to tap out now.”

You knew he was enjoying this—the way you were squirming, overstimulated and helpless under his touch.

His cock twitched inside you, still half-hard.

Fuck.

“You’re already gettin’ tight around me already, you must really want it.” He groaned, rolling his hips just slightly, just enough for you to feel it. You bit your lip, trying to shake your head—but your body told him otherwise.

“Liar,” he muttered. Then, without warning, he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

You barely had time to react before he was manhandling you, his hands gripping your hips, lifting them up, arching your back just right—until you were spread out beneath him, ass up, face pressed into the pillow.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, hands squeezing your ass, pulling your cheeks apart just to watch your swollen, soaked cunt twitch in anticipation. “So messy—such a fuckin’ pretty pussy.”

A slap landed against your ass, the sharp sting sending heat through your body. You yelped, fingers twisting in the sheets, but he just chuckled.

“You like that?” He grinned, smoothing a hand over the stinging skin before grabbing your waist, aligning himself at your entrance again. “Then you’re gonna love this.”

He slammed into you in one deep thrust, stretching you all over again.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, body jerking at the overstimulation.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right,” Bakugou groaned, fingers digging into your hips. “Take it, baby.”

His pace was relentless—his hips snapping into yours, his cock dragging against that sweet, sensitive spot with every thrust. You felt everything—too much, too good, the pleasure burning through you so intensely that your mind blanked.

The sounds filling the room were filthy—your moans, his groans, the wet, obscene slap of skin on skin.

Your arms gave out, your cheek pressing into the pillow as he fucked you into the mattress. “S-suki—”

“I know, baby,” he gritted out, voice strained, breathless. “I fuckin’ know.” He flipped you on your back before quickly sticking himself deep inside of you again.

His hand slid down, pressing against your stomach, right where he was hitting deepest. “You feel me right here, huh?”

You struggle to nod your head yes. “Ain’t so talkative now, huh?” He pulled back slightly, shifting to hook one of your legs over his arm, angling himself deeper. Your eyes rolled back, a sob slipping from your lips when he slammed into that perfect spot inside you.

Your response was a broken sob, your walls clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so tight—‘m gonna fuckin’ ruin you, baby.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing fast, mercilessly, dragging you to the edge too quickly.

“Cum for me again, princess,” he ordered, voice sharp, commanding. “Cum all over my cock.”

And you did.

Your body locked up, pleasure crashing into you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurred, your breath caught in your throat, your walls milking his cock as you came hard.

Bakugou groaned, his rhythm faltering, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you through it. “Shit— I’m gonna—”

With one last deep, brutal thrust, he spilled inside you, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he filled you up.

The both of you collapsed, his weight pressing against you, your bodies slick with sweat, chests heaving.

For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing.

Bakugou chuckled. “Think Mina’s gonna notice if we’re late?”

You groggily grabbed your phone, panic setting in when you saw the time. You had completely lost track of it.

Mina’s texts were waiting for you:

Mina (8:38): Girl… are you guys coming? Me and Kiri already ordered the apps!

Mina (8:50): You two are actual sluts.

Mina (8:51): We can try again next week. Call me when you’re done fucking 🥰❤️

Your face turned bright red.

‘fuck. me.’

[botanicsoul]

DARE

Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Reader

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The night had started harmless enough.

The girls were gathered in Mina’s room — junk food scattered everywhere, a stupid Truth or Dare game spiraling out of control. You should’ve known something was up when they all kept sneaking glances at you.

Especially Mina.

Mina leaned forward, mischievous glint in her eye. “Alright, Y/N, truth or dare?”

You hesitated. “…Dare?” you said cautiously.

Bad choice.

“I dare you to sneak into Bakugou’s room and put on his hero costume,” she said, grinning like the devil himself.

“You’re insane,” you said immediately, sitting up. “He’ll actually kill me. Like, dead-dead.”

“Come on! You know he’s soft for you,” Uraraka giggled behind her hand. “He won’t even be mad.”

“Yeah, he might even like it— we all know he wants you babe,” Mina wiggled her eyebrows. “Besides, if you do it… I’ll buy you those shoes you’ve been whining about for weeks.”

You froze.

Those perfect, gorgeous sneakers you couldn’t afford.

Damn her.

“…Fine,” you groaned. “But when he blows up the building, I’m blaming you.”

Mina and the girls erupted in quiet cheers, practically shoving you toward the boys’ dorm wing like you were being sent to your execution.

——

Moments later, you were standing inside Bakugou’s room, your heart thundering in your chest.

The room smelled like him — burnt caramel, gunpowder, and something warm underneath it all. His gear was scattered around; shirts tossed over a chair, gym bag half-zipped, boots by the door. Typical.

“Okay, just grab it and go,” you whispered.

You spotted his hero suit neatly folded on his desk chair — black, orange, and rugged as hell. You hesitated for half a second before snatching it up and shimmying into it.

“Whoever is up there please don’t let me die,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing it.

You started stripping from your clothes and wrestled into the top first — the fabric huge, sleeves dangling past your hands. You tucked it into the pants, which, unfortunately, fit suspiciously well around your hips.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You looked ridiculous.

“Oh my god, I look like a fan at a con,” you groaned, cheeks burning.

And then you spotted the gauntlets.

Those massive grenade-shaped wrist-cannons Bakugou wore like they weighed nothing.

You hesitated.

“How heavy can they be?” you muttered, reaching for one.

Answer: Fucking. HEAVY.

As soon as you tried to lift it, your wrist sank like a stone. You barely managed to drag it up to your elbow. You grunted, using both hands, nearly toppling over.

“Holy shit, what is this, like seventy pounds?!” you gasped, wobbling around like a baby deer.

You tried lifting both gauntlets — a mistake.

The second one yanked you down so hard you dropped onto your knees with a loud thud.

“KILL ME NOW,” you whispered dramatically, struggling to even stay upright.

You were panting, red-faced, arms trembling like a noodle trying to balance the absurd weight.

And that’s when you heard heavy footsteps outside the door.

You were mid-struggle — sweating, cursing under your breath — when you heard the faintest creak in the hallway.

Your blood ran cold.

Outside, Bakugou was stomping toward his room — still pissed off from a shitty sparring session. All he wanted was a shower and his bed.

But when he reached his door and noticed it slightly ajar, his instincts screamed at him.

Someone was inside.

Without hesitation, he kicked the door open, the wood slamming into the wall with a loud crack.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK” he started. Because there you were. Standing in his room. Wearing his goddamn hero suit.

Struggling to lift one of his heavy-ass grenade gauntlets while looking like you were about to cry.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

You blinked at him, caught like a deer in headlights. The sleeves hung off your arms, the fabric clinging to the curve of your waist and hips, the belt loose around you — and those gauntlets, way too big for you, dragging along the floor.

Bakugou’s red eyes darkened — not with anger, but something hotter. Something hungry.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled, low and rough.

Your face flushed deep red. “I-it’s not what it looks like…well I mean kinda but—”

“Looks like you’re trying real hard to make me lose my goddamn mind,” he cut you off, stepping inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a heavy click.

You stumbled back instinctively, bumping against the desk, heart hammering.

Bakugou stalked closer, the heat from his body practically rolling off him.

“You break into my room,” he muttered, voice dropping dangerously low, “Wearin’ my gear,” — he leaned in, caging you between his arms, his palms slamming flat against the desk on either side of you — “dress up like some fuckin’ fantasy — and think you’re just gonna walk away?”

You whined as one gauntlet slipped off your wrist, almost tipping you over. “I-it was a dare! Mina—”

Bakugou huffed a humorless laugh.

Without effort, he reached down and easily grabbed both massive gauntlets from you like they were pillows. You stared in shock as he tossed them aside with a heavy clang.

His turned back down at you with a smirk, almost cocky, predatory. “You look like shit,” he said bluntly. “But… you also look kinda fuckin’ hot wearin’ my colors.”

Your breath hitched.

He was so close now — you could see the golden flecks in his furious crimson eyes, the way his jaw clenched tightly, the tension practically crackling off him.

“It was a dare I swear…” you whispered weakly.

“Don’t care,” Bakugou muttered.

You swallowed hard, chest heaving.

His gaze dropped down your body, dragging slowly over every inch of you — the oversized top slipping off your shoulder, the snugness of the pants on your hips.

When his eyes flicked back up to yours, they were molten.

“Bet you’d look even better outta ’em,” he murmured, his voice like honey.

You whimpered — actually whimpered — and immediately cursed yourself for it.

Bakugou grinned — slow, wolfish — like he’d just found his favorite new toy.

Your knees wobbled. “Suki…i’m sor—” you whispered.

He didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Without warning, he grabbed you by the belt loops, yanked you against him, and crushed his mouth onto yours.

The kiss was hungry, punishing — all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration.

You gasped, clutching his shirt, letting him devour you, dizzy from the heat pouring off his body.

When he finally pulled back, he was panting, forehead pressed against yours.

“Mine,” he growled against your lips, nipping sharply at your lower lip, making you gasp again. “You got that, princess? You wanna wear my shit, fine — but you better fuckin’ know you belong to me.”

You nodded shakily, dazed, drunk off the taste of him. Bakugou pulled back slightly — just enough to glare at you, his hands still gripping your waist, thumbs sliding dangerously low toward the hem of the pants.

“Next time you wanna play dress-up,” he rasped, smirking wickedly, “ask me first and I’ll even help you out of em’.”

The look in his eyes promised a lot more than just help and you — flushed, panting, brain short-circuiting — could only whisper, “Okay…”

Bakugou chuckled darkly, pressing one more bruising kiss to your mouth before leaning back.

“Good,” he said, tugging the belt around your waist tight with a hard snap, making you squeak. “Now get ready, princess. You started this shit — you’re not walking outta here anytime soon.”

——

The next afternoon, you sat cross-legged on Mina’s bed, surrounded by the girls, trying very hard to act normal.

Your new sneakers — the ones Mina had bribed you with — sat unopened in the box on your lap.

“Come on, open it already!” Mina whined, bouncing beside you.

You shifted awkwardly, biting back a grimace. Your thighs ached. Your hips ached. Hell, even your neck was a little sore.

Turns out, Bakugou was very, very thorough about claiming what was “his” last night.

You coughed, sitting up straighter, ignoring the smug way Mina was side-eyeing you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered defensively, opening the box.

Inside were the sneakers you’d been dreaming about — sleek, perfect, untouched.

You gasped. “Holy shit… they’re even prettier in person!”

Mina clapped excitedly. “See? Totally worth it!”

You snorted. “Yeah, tell that to my back.”

Mina laughed. “You’re welcome. Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t have a good night.”

You flushed from head to toe. “Mina!” you hissed, smacking her with a pillow.

The other girls burst out laughing.

Before you could defend yourself, your phone buzzed in your lap.

——

Explosion boy <3 :

5:35pm - Come to my dorm later.

5:36pm - Or do you need help gettin’ here, princess?

5:36pm - Bet you’re fuckin’ sore.

5:37pm - Want me to come kiss it better?

——

You squeaked audibly and immediately dropped your phone like it burned you.

“Who’s that?” Mina teased, leaning over.

“N-Nobody!” you yelped, clutching the sneakers like they were a lifeline.

But your red face said it all.

Across the room, Mina smirked like she’d just won the lottery.

“Told you,” she whispered to Uraraka. “Soft spot. Huge.”

And maybe…

just maybe…

you weren’t totally mad about it.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

[botanicsoul]

Don’t Meet Your Heroes

Pro Hero | Izuku Midoriya x Fangirl (Fem) Reader

-> I will NEVER stop writing menace Izuku because there is absolutely NO WAY someone that nice, that polite, that sweet is not secretly a freak. You don’t save the world with a smile and then go home and knit. No—you choke your girl out while she wears your merch and thank her for letting you. —Anyway, enjoy🥳

ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍

You didn’t expect much when you walked up to the table—just your hero crush smiling at you for five seconds before you moved on like everyone else.

But when his eyes lifted and locked onto yours, time stretched. You offered him the homemade fanart you’d printed on glossy paper. “It’s silly, but… I wanted you to sign it.”

His freckled cheeks went pink, and he gave you that smile. “It’s not silly at all. It’s cute.”

His fingers brushed yours when he took it. “Hey… mind if I ask something kinda bold?”

You blinked. “Yeah? What’s up?”

He scribbled something in the corner of the poster and slid it back. A phone number.

“Text me. If you want to talk more. Or… I don’t know. Grab a coffee?”

Your heart practically launched out of your chest.

Of course you texted him.

Coffee turned into dinner. Dinner turned into your back hitting his apartment mattress—staring up at him, wide-eyed, wondering how the sweet, bashful hero who wore a cardigan on your little date now had your legs pinned wide open… your wrists bound above your head with his utility belt.

At first, he kissed you like you were fragile. Hands shaky. Voice soft. Whispers of “you sure?” between every breath.

But the second you moaned his name and rocked your hips into his?

A switch flipped.

And suddenly the man above you wasn’t the one who smiled for cameras. He fucked you like he’d been starving. Like he’d been good for too long and now he needed to ruin something sweet.

He rutted into you slow and deep—possessive, gritting through every thrust like he hated how much he needed it.

“You thought I’d be gentle, didn’t you?” he muttered, slamming into you hard enough to make the headboard crack.

“Thought I’d blush and stutter while I fucked you?” He leaned down, lips dragging along your jaw. “No, baby. I earn my rewards.”

Your legs shook. He was everywhere—biting your neck, sucking marks onto your chest like he wanted the world to see, you were a moaning mess while he’s choking you just enough to make you dizzy.

“You moan like you want the whole city to hear you,” he growled. “You like this? Being fucked by your favorite hero like a filthy little fan girl?”

You gasped, nails digging into your palm.

He chuckled low, voice dark. “You’re soaked. Can feel it drip down my cock every time I pull out.”

“Please—” you barely got the word out before he was on you again, teeth gritted like he was holding back something brutal.

He paused, just to thrust harder. “I’ve saved lives, baby,” he snarled into your neck, “but I’d let the city burn if it meant I got to come back to this cunt.”

Your body snapped tight, your orgasm crashing into you with no warning—and he felt it.

He growled, rough and wrecked. “Good girl. Fuck—milk it. Soak me. Show me how much this pussy loves me.”

And when you finally went limp, body shaking, eyes glassy? He leaned down and kissed you like he hadn’t just destroyed you.

Then he pulled out, slowly, watching his cum leak from your pussy onto the sheets.

He groaned. “Next time I fuck you, wear my merch.”

You blinked up at him, fucked-out and blinking.

He grinned, all teeth. “The one that says Property of Pro Hero Deku. I wanna see it when I make you cum on your knees.”

[botanicsoul]

Oh jussst thinking of virgin bkg losing it to virgin fem reader when they’re like 19 sighhhh

Learning Curve

(aged up)Virgin!Bakugou Katsuki x (fem)Virgin!Reader

⸻

I had way too much fun writing this—honestly, I feel like Bakugou would kinda be just as awkward (and ofc cocky!) as anyone else during their first time. Alsooooo, not to be dramatic, but your “Sound it Out” fluff fic of Bakugou is easily in my top 10 favorite reads ever on Tumblr. So, consider this a big thank-you and a love letter from one writer to another. Hope you enjoy it, babe!🩷

ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍࿔̥̊ ི༘𑁍

The movie had ended who knows how long ago. Neither of you had noticed.

You were straddling him now, perched on his lap with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, his hands roaming your waist like he didn’t know where to land—like touching you too fast might break something.

Bakugou’s breath was heavy, controlled, too controlled, as his lips kissed along your jaw, your neck, then lower. His touch was reverent—slow drags of fingers, warm presses of lips. Like he was working through a checklist.

You let him trail down your sternum, his mouth ghosting the edge of your bra, but your hands slid into his hair and pulled him back up.

His eyes widened. “What—did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head, forehead resting against his. “You’re doing everything right.” Your fingers curled in the hem of his shirt, tugging it up his sides and taking it off over his head. “But I don’t want slow right now.”

He blinked at you, throat bobbing. “You sure?”

Bakugou pulled back just a little, panting against your skin, eyes darting between your mouth and your body beneath his. “You don’t want me to… use my fingers? Or—fuck—I could go down on you if you want?.”

“No…I want you, Katsuki, I’m ready” you whispered, pressing your hips down against his, grinding just enough to make him groan. “I need you. Right now.”

A sound ripped from his chest—half growl, half disbelief. “Fuckin… finally.” He surged up to kiss you, all the control he’d been clinging to unraveling in an instant. His hands gripped your thighs, then your ass, dragging you against him like he couldn’t get close enough.

Still, under all that heat, you felt it—the tension in his body, the slight stutter in his movements. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

“You haven’t…right?” you asked, voice softer now.

He shook his head once. “No. You?”

You nodded. “No.”

His jaw flexed, chest heaving. “Shit,” he muttered, then looked at you again, voice quieter. “Tch… first time or not, I’m still gonna blow your fuckin’ mind. Bet on it.” You giggled and felt your heart clenched—warmth and want tangled together. You kissed him, fingers sliding under the waistband of his shorts.

He let out a shaky breath. “You think this is funny? Wait ‘til I’ve got you whining under me.” He laughed—breathless, nervous—but his eyes burned with something deeper.

“Tell me what feels good,” you whispered, dragging your nails down his abs, where his shirt had been tossed somewhere behind the couch. “Or I can just… keep going until you explode.”

“I’m already about to fuckin’ explode,” Bakugou growled, voice tight. “Been hard since you sat in my fuckin’ lap like you knew what you were doin’.” You smirked, rubbing your hips just slightly over his, and his entire body jerked.

“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Okay. Yeah. No more games. Off. Now.”

the moment you get off— he’s gets on. He was already tugging at your shorts with hands that were almost confident, but you could feel the hesitation in the way his fingers struggled with the button, like he was trying to be smooth and failing miserably.

The moment he stripped you down he got up to take his pants off, you giggled at the poor boy when he accidentally got his foot caught in his shorts and nearly fell off the couch.

“You’re never fuckin’ bringing this up again,” he growled, face scarlet as he kicked the shorts halfway across the room.

“Oh, I’m absolutely bringing it up on our wedding day.”

Your stomach did flips seeing his dick bob out. Then you brought your hand up brushing his thigh, his cock twitched, and all jokes disappeared real fast.

“…Shit. Y-you’re fuckin’ beautiful, y’know that?” You smiled, guiding his hand to touch you this time. “You gonna be gentle with me suki?.” you moan out grinding into his fingers.

He let out a groan shaking his head, “I’ll be gentle—’til you start beggin’ me not to be.”

He removed his fingers you were using and quickly tried to get the condom—well…fought with it, really, like it had declared war. You tried to help, but both of you were laughing too hard. He finally got it—fingers trembling slightly as he tore the condom open, then rolled it down over himself with shaky focus. He kissed you again, messier this time, all tongue and want, hips grinding into yours like he couldn’t wait a second longer, his cock slipping between your wet folds giving your clit a good tease before he fumbled between your thighs, trying to line himself up, but his aim was off—too frantic, too eager. You reached down, wrapping your hand around him to help guide him, and his whole body jolted.

“Fuckfuckfuck—I-I’m not gonna last if you keep touching me like that—” He blushed so hard you thought his face might combust. When he finally pushed inside you—slow, deep, careful—you swore you saw stars behind your eyelids.

“Shit, you’re tighter than I thought—wait, is it supposed to feel like this?”

“It’s fine, Katsuki, you’re just big.”

It stung a little. You both hissed and clutched each other, moving slow, breath trembling, trying to find a rhythm that didn’t feel completely ridiculous. Then he angled just right. Hit just right. And you moaned his name so pretty, “Sukiiiii—.” he damn near blacked out.

His hips stuttered as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath ragged and hot against your skin. “I’m tryin’ to be gentle baby,” he gritted out, voice nearly breaking with restraint, “but you’re makin’ it real hard.” His fingers dug into your waist like he was holding on for dear life, every inch of him trembling with the effort not to lose control. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled, dragging his mouth down your throat. “Not that I’d ever fuckin’ let ‘em try.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trembling as you tilted your head back. Fingers tangling in his hair, you gasped out, “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop… don’t be gentle, Suki.”

He froze for a split second, eyes darkening with a mixture of shock and desire. Then, his grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your ear.

“You sure about that?” he asked, voice rough and strained, but you could feel the edge of something darker creeping through his tone.

You nodded desperately, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Yes baby please”

That was all it took. A growl escaped his throat, low and feral, before he flipped you onto your back with an unexpected, almost brutal force. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, and there was no trace of the hesitant Bakugou from moments before.

“You’re gonna take me, and you’re gonna love it,” he spat, his voice laced with raw need. He didn’t wait for an answer—his lips crashed down onto yours in a bruising kiss, his hands rough as they gripped your hips, forcing your body against his in a way that made you gasp.

His movements were fast, almost too fast—his thrusts hard, relentless, pushing you deeper into the sheets as he gave in to his instincts. Each rough move sent a shock of heat through you, and you couldn’t help but moan, gripping the bed tight.

“Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, voice raw with pleasure as he buried his face in your neck. “You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck you like this? Make you mine?”

His movements were fast, almost too fast—his thrusts hard, relentless, pushing you deeper into the sheets as he gave in to his instincts. Each rough move sent a shock of heat through you, and you couldn’t help but moan out in pure desperation.

“YES, GOD, PLEASE,” you moaned, exaggerating the desperation in your voice, your back arching up to meet him as you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in.

“PLEASE, SUKI, DON’T STOP, DON’T STOP!”

His pace didn’t slow. You felt every inch of him, each thrust a mix of hunger and possession. The sounds of skin slapping, your breathless moans, and his groans filled the room, and it was all you could focus on. Bakugou wasn’t holding back anymore. Neither were you.

Every thrust was like a discovery. Every sound made both of you twitch, cursing between groans, and you held onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

And when you both finally came—breathless and shaking. You were both a mess—sweaty, tangled in each other like you’d been through something way bigger than just your first time. Bakugou was still on top of you, face buried in your neck, trying to catch his breath.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, voice rough and low, still catching his breath. His forehead rested against yours, sweat-damp strands of hair clinging to his skin.

You smiled, dazed, your fingertips brushing over his shoulder. “You good?”

He huffed a laugh—barely. “Yeah. Just didn’t think it’d feel that fuckin’ good.”

You tilted your head, teasing gently, “What, exceeded expectations?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, that cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite how wrecked he looked. “Nah. You ruined me.”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice dropped again, gravelly and full of promise. “Next time, I’m not holdin’ back.”

You stared up at him, chest still rising and falling, lips parted. “No fucking way... What the hell does not holding back look like—hospitalization?”

His eyes darkened. “Sweetheart, I was on my best fuckin’ behavior.”

You couldn’t help but shiver under the weight of that promise. He leaned in, kissed you slow and deep, then murmured against your lips, “Next round, I’m gonna make sure you can’t even walk straight.”

You grinned and rolled your eyes, fingers tugging his hair just enough to make him grunt. “I’ll hold you to that.”

[botanicsoul]

Tipsy Touches and Tangled Vines

aged!up! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (Fluff)

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

You barely got the door shut before Bakugou’s hands were on you. His fingers hooked into your waist, pulling you back against his chest, his mouth grazing your ear.

“You really tryin’ to put me to bed already?” he murmured, voice thick with heat and leftover whiskey.

You grinned, ducking out of his grip and tugging him down the hallway by the hand. “Yes. Because you cannot handle your liquor, Katsuki. You started leaning on the wall like it was your lifeline.”

“I was lettin’ it hold me so I could look at your ass in that dress.” His words were a growl against your neck, hot and teasing, as he crowded you into the bedroom.

You squeaked as he caught you mid-step, lifting you just enough to toss you on the bed. “Katsuki—”

He was on you in a second, straddling your hips with that cocky smirk that made your stomach twist. “What, princess?” he rasped, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt slowly, knowing full well you were watching.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you warned, cheeks warm. “You’re two seconds away from a blackout.”

“I’ve got at least ten good minutes in me,” he murmured as he leaned down, mouth dragging along your throat. “That’s all I need to make you forget your own name.”

You let out a breathy laugh, fingers finding the hem of his shirt. “You talk a big game, baby,” you teased as his lips found the soft spot below your ear. “But I know how this ends.”

“Yeah?” he said, voice dropping, hands running down your sides to squeeze your thighs. “How’s that?”

“With you—” You gasped as he nipped at your skin, “—trying to dirty talk me, then falling asleep halfway through.”

He chuckled, deep and warm, before biting your shoulder lightly. “I’m offended you think I’d tap out like that.”

“I don’t think, I know. Last time, you passed out with your hand still in my panties.”

A groan left his throat, half embarrassment, half pride. “Still made you come first, didn’t I?”

You slapped his shoulder with a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

He just kissed down your neck again, slower now, more languid, less hungry and more lazy. The way he moved softened, his hands wandering but without urgency. His weight shifted, slumping into you, and you felt the exact moment his body stilled.

You sighed, already smiling. “Katsuki?”

No response—just the soft rise and fall of his chest against yours.

“Katsuki,” you whispered, brushing his hair back.

A little breath, then: “M’not asleep.”

“You’re drooling.”

He muttered something incoherent, pressing a final, lazy kiss against your shoulder before going limp again, completely out.

You bit your lip to hold back the laugh, arms wrapping around him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “My menace of a man.”

He didn’t hear it—but you said it anyway.

[botanicsoul]

The Secretary

agedup! Katsuki Bakugou x (Fem) Reader

MDNI!! (18+)

description: Your entire world flips when you become the explosive hero’s secretary. In the world of high stakes and even higher tension, will you be able to resist his pull, or will you find yourself lost in the heat of it all?” (this bitch is loooooong)

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

Pro Hero Dynamight has always been known to overwork at his agency.

Go above and beyond until something is perfect. Every file, every mission plan, every recruit—flawless or you’re wasting his damn time. He doesn’t do breaks. He doesn’t do patience. And he sure as hell doesn’t do mistakes.

People line up to work for him.

Because once you’ve worked under Dynamight, you can work anywhere. You’ve been sharpened by fire. Agencies compete for people who survive even six months at his side.

But just because everyone wants the job doesn’t mean they keep it.

He doesn’t notice most of his staff—doesn’t care to. The only people who get a fraction of his attention are his sidekicks and his PA team. The rest of you? Replaceable. Background.

That’s what you were. Just background.

A newly hired secretary brought in to replace the last one—fired, rumor has it, for leaving a single classified folder out overnight. You were pulled from a random list. No connections, no special qualifications. Just a name picked in a moment of desperation.

And from the beginning, you kept your head down.

Did your job. Stayed quiet. Didn’t try to get in his way. You figured if you didn’t bother him, you’d survive longer than the last girl.

And for a while, it worked.

Until he looked at you.

⸻

It was barely a glance, the first time. You were handing him a folder, and your fingers brushed his. That was it.

But the next day, he asked for you by name. “y/n go to this next meeting for me in 40 minutes and take some notes have it on my desk by 3”

The day after that? He called you into his office to retype a document you knew damn well his PA could’ve handled. He started showing up at your desk more. Asking questions. Staring a little too long when you answered.

No one said anything, but the change was obvious.

Your name started circulating in whispers.

Not in a good way.

Because Dynamight had a reputation. Not just for being a perfectionist or a hard-ass—but for being a flirt. The kind who smiled in interviews and left parties with models on his arm. He was cocky, crude, and didn’t hide the fact that he could get whoever he wanted. He was in the tabloids almost as much as he was on the news. You weren’t his type. Not even close. So whatever attention he was giving you? It had to be temporary.

⸻

Recently one of your male co-workers had been interacting with you a little more than usual lately. He’d stop by your desk for small talk, lingering longer than necessary and dropping subtle hints of flirting—hints you quickly brushed off.

One afternoon, as he stood by your desk chatting about the new coffee shop that had just opened a few blocks from the agency, you heard the unmistakable sound of heavy, aggressive footsteps echoing through the hallway. The air shifted. The floor seemed to still as the explosion hero’s voice cut through the buzz of conversation like a blade.

“Kato,” Dynamight said dryly, voice low but so loud and commanding that it echoed across the entire floor. “Leave my secretary alone and get the hell back to work.”

Everything went quiet.

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers flicking between you and Bakugou, the tension thick in the air. Kato blinked, visibly flinching before muttering something under his breath and practically scrambling away. After that? Silence. No more desk visits. No more awkward compliments. He disappeared.

A few days passed, then a week. You hadn’t realized just how quiet it had been until you were in the break room, talking with Yumi, one of the only people you were actually close with at work. She was leaning against the counter, sipping her tea when you brought it up.

“Hey, Yumi,” you said casually, trying to sound nonchalant as you stirred your drink. “Have you seen Kato around? Last time we talked, he mentioned grabbing coffee at that new place nearby.”

Yumi gave you a look over her cup. “Oh? You don’t know?”

You blinked. “Know what?”

She lowered her voice, leaning in slightly like she was about to share a secret. “After Dynamight yelled at him, Kato got transferred to the other floor—support tech. Apparently he asked for it himself.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Word is he went to HR the same day. Said something about ’not wanting to interfere with higher-up dynamics.’” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “You ask me? I think he got the message loud and clear—and maybe a little scared. Bakugou doesn’t exactly play subtle.”

You felt your cheeks warm, not sure if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. You looked away, but Yumi smirked.

“He’s totally territorial over you, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was beating just a little faster. “He’s my boss.”

Yumi laughed. “Right. And I’m just here for the free snacks.”

⸻

Things started getting more odd after you grabbed your paycheck, scanning it quickly. Your eyes widen. There’s an extra $200 in there. What the hell?

You head straight to HR, a bit confused. “Hey, I think you guys messed up my pay. There’s, uh, an extra amount in here.”

The HR rep looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “No, we didn’t mess up. You got the raise from the boss yesterday. Didn’t you know?”

You blink. “A raise? From Dynamight?”

They nod. “Yeah. He approved it. It’s all there. So… enjoy the extra cash?”

You stand there for a moment, trying to process it. He didn’t say anything about a raise.

Later, you march into Bakugou’s office. He looks up from his desk, not even bothering to look surprised.

“Aren’t you supposed to be re-organizing those files? I told you I needed that done today y/n” he grumbles, like it’s just another day.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were giving me a raise?” you ask, arms crossed. “I went to HR, and they said it’s from you. You just… threw in a $200 bump like it was nothing?”

He shrugs, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, and?. You’ve been working hard, so you get a bump. Don’t make it a big deal.”

You stare at him, trying to hide the confusion. “But you couldn’t have just said something, I thought it was a true and honest mistake? I didn’t want to get in trouble or anything.”

“Not my problem. It’s in your paycheck. Deal with it,” he grunts, turning his attention back to his papers.

“But I-“ you were quickly cut off by his desk phone ringing.

“y/l/n can’t you just fuckin’ thank me? now get back to work don’t ever question me again” he says before answering the phone.

You stand there, a little speechless. You eventually turn around and leave his office just to sit at your desk still confused as ever.

⸻

work had been piling up, you started staying later than usual at nights. But this night was different.

It was supposed to be simple—just a few files left to organize, highlight, and prep for tomorrow morning. Everyone else on the floor had cleared out hours ago. You liked the quiet. No one breathing down your neck. Just your thoughts and the occasional creak of the building.

Then the elevator dinged.

You didn’t look up until you heard the crash—something hard slamming against the wall near the lift.

And then, there he was.

Him.

Pro Hero Dynamight. In full gear. Hair still wild from battle, jaw tight—and in his arms? A woman.

Not just any woman. A model. One you’d seen in magazines, ads, maybe even a billboard or two. And they weren’t just walking. They were clawing at each other, lips locked, her dress hitched halfway up her thighs. His hands all over her.

He didn’t even glance your way—until he did.

Right as he shoved open his office door.

His eyes locked on you. Smoldering. Unbothered. Maybe even a little amused.

And then he shut the door behind them. Click.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Then you heard it.

The moaning. The banging. The desperate, ugly sounds of sex through that too-thin wall, and you didn’t even hesitate. You gathered your things, barely breathing, and booked it for the elevator before your face could give anything away. You didn’t look back.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he stared at you.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

⸻

The next morning, you came in earlier than usual—half-hoping, half-praying you wouldn’t have to see him.

Your desk felt different. Like it had absorbed last night’s shame. The pens in your cup were crooked. The light too bright. You reorganized your files twice just to stop your hands from shaking.

You told yourself he wouldn’t bring it up.

He wouldn’t have to.

Because it meant nothing.

To him, it was just another Tuesday night. Another random girl. Another fuck.

And then… you saw him.

Striding across the hallway from his office—jacket slung over his shoulder, hair freshly wet from a shower, and a goddamn coffee in hand like he hadn’t just traumatized you twelve hours ago.

He didn’t even look at you. Not at first.

He passed your desk with that same practiced indifference, talking to a sidekick about an upcoming mission, barely blinking. You exhaled. Maybe it was just another night. Maybe he really didn’t care.

Then, without warning, he stopped mid-step. Turned his head just slightly. Your blood ran cold. But he kept walking. That was it. That tiny little jab, buried so deep it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else—but you knew.

He knew. And now he was watching to see what you’d do with it.

⸻

You didn’t do anything. What could you do?

You buried yourself in your work. Avoided his gaze when he passed your desk. Ignored the little smirk that tugged at his mouth every time your fingers trembled while handing him a report. You told yourself it would fade—that he’d get bored and move on.

But he didn’t. He kept finding reasons to come by. Most times it was work-related. sometimes it wasn’t.

“Where’s the file from yesterday? The one you highlighted.”

“There’s a typo on this one. Wanna tell me where your brain was?”

“You always jump when someone groans, or is that just me?”

“do you always wear skirts that short?”

And the worst part? He never looked guilty. Never embarrassed. Just amused. Like he’d found a new game to play—and you were the only one who didn’t know the rules.

⸻

The next night came.

You were once again the last one in the office, filing mission reports. This time, you double-checked the elevator schedule before staying late. Dynamight had a press conference that evening. He wouldn’t be back until hours later—if at all.

You let your guard down.

Big mistake.

Because when the elevator dinged around 10:43 p.m., and you turned expecting to see a janitor or a delivery guy—

It was him. Alone.

No model this time. Just Dynamight. Loose black tee, sweats slung low, dog tags catching the hall light. He didn’t say a word. Just walked down the hall, slow and deliberate, until he was standing at your desk.

You blinked up at him. “…Can I help you, sir?”

He stared for a moment—eyes hooded, lazy. Then leaned a forearm on your desk. “You’re always here late.” Your throat tightened. “There’s a lot to do.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, gaze dipping briefly to your lips. “That why you stayed last night too?”

“I—I didn’t realize anyone else was—”

“Oh, you realized.” That smug look returned. “You saw everything, didn’t you?” Heat crawled down your spine. He tilted his head slightly. “And what’d you think, secretary? Get a good show?” You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m—going home. I’m done for the night.”

But as you tried to slip past him, he didn’t move.

Just let his fingers graze the edge of your desk—then yours. Soft. Barely there. Enough to make you stop.

And his voice? Lower this time. Quieter. Laced with something darker. “I fucked her thinking about you all alone out here” he said under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear.

As you took the bus home after work, his words lingered in your mind. he made you feel like some dirty pervert.

⸻

The following day came, you were a nervous wreck coming to work and praying to whoever was up there to not see him again. But for some reason lady luck was on your side because word got around that Dynamight wouldn’t be in office due for a little to an over ran mission a couple of cities over. You felt the weight of what was like an elephant lift from your shoulders hearing it. The next couple of days you could breathe and get your work done, until the night he came back. You weren’t planning to stay late again but the mission reports were a mess, your inbox was full, and your brain was too fried to say no when your team lead asked for help. Plus you wanted to get it all done so you could go home early for the weekend tomorrow.

Everyone else had left. The sun was long gone, the sky a navy blur behind the tall glass windows. You figured he was still out. Same patrol mission or high-level meeting.

You were so fucking wrong.

The elevator dinged at 11:36pm. You didn’t even look up because you just KNEW. you heard the heavy bootsteps crossing the hall, slow and measured—each one landing like they meant something.

You slowly looked up. There he was.

Hair messy from the wind, shirt clinging to his frame, jaw sharp with tension like he’d been gritting it for hours. He didn’t say anything—just stood there, watching you behind that massive front desk like you were the one interrupting him.

You swallowed. HARD. “…e-evening.”

A low hum left his throat, his gaze staying on you like you were the only thing in the room.

He didn’t walk away. Just shifted his weight slightly, his eyes scanning your desk. You could feel the pressure of his stare, like he was seeing right through you.

You followed his line of sight—realizing too late that your files were fanned out everywhere. Messy. Color-coded. Your pink highlighter cap left open next to your now cold coffee.

Shit.

You scrambled to get up and gather everything, heart thudding harder than you’d like to admit. “I—I’ll get these off before I leave. I just wanted to finish highlighting—”

He didn’t let you finish.

One step closer, without warning.

His body moved with purpose, no hesitation. He didn’t lean in, didn’t raise his voice, but somehow his presence swallowed you whole.

He just tapped twice—once, twice—on the corner of a sticky note beside your hand.

Then, his voice came, low, clipped, a little too calm for your liking.

“Next time you highlight mission details…”

“…don’t use pink.”

he paused for a moment looking at you while his finger was still resting on the sticky note.

“I fucking hate pink.”

You stiffened, trying to shake off the irritation that bubbled up in your chest.

“Well, maybe I’m not here to impress you,” you muttered under your breath, your annoyance pushing you further than you meant to go.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even react at first.

You tried to ignore the sudden heat crawling up your neck. It was just a comment—nothing more.

But then you saw it.

His lips curled into a faint smirk, that signature cocky grin of his. He leaned in just a little more, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket like he was too relaxed, too calm for the situation.

“Not here to impress me?” His voice was smooth, almost condescending. “Then why the hell are you even still here, huh?”

Your jaw tightened. You were about to fire back, but he wasn’t done.

He took another step forward. This time, there was no space left between you.

His eyes narrowed, gaze dropping from your face to the pink highlighter in your hand. He reached out, slowly, deliberately, taking the cap from the table and flicking it absentmindedly.

His eyes met yours, cold but sharp. He didn’t blink.

“You wanna talk back to me, huh? You wanna act like you don’t care what I think?” He leaned in closer, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. “You’ll get real fucking tired of that attitude real fast.”

You tried to hold your ground, but something in the air was shifting. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in a way that made you feel small. Vulnerable. He was in your space now—too close. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back away.

“What, you think I’m scared of you?” Your voice was steady, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

His lips curled into a knowing grin, his fingers brushing the back of your hand like it was nothing. But the touch was deliberate. “No, but I think you like it.”

You inhaled sharply, your pulse quickening.

“Like what?” you breathed, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“Like it when I call you out,” he replied, his voice dripping with something dangerously close to amusement. “Like it when I make you feel something you don’t know how to handle.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he stepped back.

His eyes locked onto yours one last time, with a smooth, and mocking tone. “Not here to impress me, huh? Guess what? You’re not fooling anyone.”

You bristled at the implication, trying to pull away from the tension that was building in the space between you two. But he didn’t let up. Instead, he moved even closer, stepping into your personal space until there was barely an inch of air between you.

“Keep playing it cool,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “But I know exactly what you want.“

His lips were only inches from yours now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart pounded, and the words escaped you before you could stop them.

“And what exactly do you think I want?” you breathed.

His grin widened, a wicked, confident curl of his lips, and then, in a voice that was barely a whisper, he answered, “You want me to prove it.”

“fuck you” that’s all it took.

And before you could even process what he meant, he was on you.

His hands found your waist, lifting you onto the desk, making sure there was no space between you. The way he kissed you, with so much force and urgency, made it clear he wasn’t about to stop.

You gasped as he trailed his lips down to your collarbone, his hands already pulling at your shirt, lifting it over your head. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but in the best way. The heat in your body was building rapidly, your skin tingling where his hands brushed.

“I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he growled, his lips back on yours with a hunger you couldn’t resist.

You pulled him closer, urging him to take what he wanted, because deep down, you knew you were past the point of no return.

And when his hands moved to the waistband of your pants, you didn’t hesitate, lifting your hips to let him undress you completely.

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth back on your neck, his hands working to free himself from his pants, all while he never broke eye contact with you.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice thick with lust, the words slipping from him in a low growl.

You could hardly breathe, let alone think. But somehow, you managed to whisper, “Dynamight.”

He smirked against your neck, his hand coming down on your ass with a harsh smack, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You jolted, a breathless gasp escaping your lips, and he leaned back, his eyes narrowing.

“I said, say MY fucking name,” he repeated, his voice a little sharper this time.

You moaned, your body aching for more as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Katsuki,” you whined, your voice higher, desperate. The sound of his name on your lips, the way it twisted in the air between you two, sent him into a frenzy.

He didn’t give you a moment to recover—he grabbed your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the desk, his mouth crashing into yours again, hungry and unrelenting. You felt the hard press of his cock against your bare core, still hidden behind the fabric of his boxers, and you instinctively rolled your hips, chasing the friction you so desperately needed.

“You’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he hissed against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you—flushed, panting, pupils blown wide. “Actin’ like you didn’t want this. Walkin’ around the office in those tight little skirts… lookin’ at me like that… like you wanted to be fucked.”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly, pulling his boxers down and letting his cock spring free. The sight alone had your breath hitching, and he noticed.

“Yeah?” he muttered, stroking himself slowly as he watched your reaction. “This what you’ve been needin’? Bet your fingers couldn’t even come close to makin’ you feel this full.”

And then he pushed in—slowly, almost teasing, stretching you inch by inch until your back arched and a breathless moan spilled from your lips, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull.

“Fuck—you feel better than I ever imagined,” he gritted, gripping your hips so tight you knew he’d leave marks. “Tight little pussy takin’ me so well.”

He set a brutal pace, snapping his hips against yours, the desk creaking beneath you both his as your body rocked with each thrust. You could barely form words—just whimpers and his name on loop like a prayer.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get filthier, he leaned in, his voice rasping directly into your ear.

“You know how many girls I’ve fucked the last two weeks?”

Each word was punctuated by a hard, punishing thrust.

“Every. Single. ONE of them—I thought about you.”

You gasped, your nails clawing at his back as your orgasm built dangerously fast.“Thought bout how beautiful you’d look bent over my fuckin’ desk takin’ my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back, the filthy words and his relentless rhythm dragging you closer to the edge. Your whole body trembled under him, your mind trying to deny it, trying to keep up, but your body had already surrendered. It needed him. All of him.

“And how amazing your tits would look bouncin’ in my face as you ride me.” he leaned down to your chest and sucked on your tit as he fondled the other with his free hand.

You gasped as his words hit you like a wave, the sharpness of his growl sending a tremor through your body. Every word he spoke, every thrust, made it harder to remember what it was you were supposed to resist.

His pace quickened, and you were helpless under him. Each snap of his hips felt like a jolt of electricity, shooting through your veins, making you gasp and moan for him. The desk beneath you scraped against the floor as he pushed you closer to the edge, and all you could do was hold on, your fingers digging into the wood as you clung to whatever semblance of control you had left.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his voice thick with need. “Say it and mean it this time.”

“Kats-sukiiiiiaaa,” you breathed, your head thrown back, the sensation of him inside you almost too much to handle. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body already on the brink of breaking. You were so close—so close you could taste it.

His lips curled into a wicked grin as he saw the desperation in your eyes, his pace never slowing. “That’s it, princess,” he growled, his hand snaking down to rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You’re mine now. All mine and not any of these shitty extras around this place”.

You could barely respond, your mind clouded with the pleasure he was giving you. Every inch of your body felt like it was on fire, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core until you were trembling with the effort of holding back.

And then, with one last, forceful thrust, he drove you over the edge. Your body arched against him, your moans a desperate mixture of his name and incoherent sounds. His name tumbled from your lips again, this time louder, as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and weak.

But Bakugou didn’t stop. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kept going, pushing you through your orgasm with a brutal determination that had you gasping for air. His thrusts grew erratic, faster, harder, as his own release approached. His breath was ragged in your ear, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

With one final growl, he pulled you closer, his hand gripping your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling over as he held you against him, each shuddering breath making it clear just how much he needed you—how much he’d been holding back.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and spent. He kissed your forehead softly, a rare moment of tenderness after the storm, but the fire in his eyes never fully faded.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “I’ll be fuckin’ you in my bed not some flimsy office desk.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing the muscles in his back as you both tried to catch your breath. This… this was just the beginning.

[botanicsoul]

Rainfall and Ruin

Izuku Midoriya x fem! Reader

this is straight filth

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

You’d been poking the bear all damn day.

Not just for fun—but to finally see what he was hiding.

The thing was…you were dating. You’d been dating for a while now. He kissed you sweetly, held your hand, dry humped you with desperate little whines—but he never went any further. He always stopped himself. Always shook his head, cheeks blazing, voice soft and nervous. He worshipped you, always asked before going any further. And yeah—it was cute.

At first. But now?

Now, it was maddening.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he’d told you once, after a particularly heated makeout that ended with him biting his lip and pulling away. “I don’t… I don’t fully know my own strength. What if I lose control?”panting, cheeks flushed as he grinned against you until both of you were trembling. “I get so… worked up. I don’t know if I could stop.”

God, and you loved him for it. You remembered smiling up at him, brushing sweaty hair from his face. “Then don’t stop.”

you saw the way his hands shook when they rested on your hips. How his jaw clenched when you moaned into a kiss. You knew he wanted to go further. He just wouldn’t let himself. Every time. He never let himself lose control or be rough with you.

You wanted to test him. So today? You wanted to see how far he could be pushed. And damn, he made it too easy.

——

The way he always turned red every time you called him “Zuku.” How his breath hitched when your hand brushed low on his stomach. How his eyes would flicker nervously away when you leaned over to grab your pen, your skirt riding up just enough to make his throat go dry. You’d let out soft moans around him when you’d stretch a little in your seat, just so he could hear. It was like you had him on a string, and each movement you made tugged him closer to the edge.

During your study session later, you decided to take it even further, to really test just how far you could push him without him breaking. The room was nearly empty, the only sound the soft rustle of paper and the scratch of pens. You skipped over to him, a playful smile curling on your lips as you took your seat just a little too close.

“Tell me, Zuku,” you breathed softly against his neck, your lips grazing his skin. You felt him freeze, his body going rigid as your breath tickled his ear. “Do you think about me when you’re alone?” you whispered, “what do you do when you think about me?” your voice soft and teasing.

You could see the way his grip tightened on the textbook, his knuckles turning white as he tried to steady his breath, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t hide it anymore. You could tell by the way his eyes darted to the side.

You leaned in closer, your body brushing against his as you let your words linger. “I know what you do,” you purred, practically tasting the way he was unraveling under your attention.

You saw his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every breath. It was almost cute, how badly he was trying to hold it together. Almost. But you weren’t done yet.

“Zukuuuu…” You dragged the name out, rolling it on your tongue like it was a secret. “wanna know what I do when I think of you?” You slid your hand down his arm, deliberately slow, and when your fingers brushed the edge of his hand, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kept your palm pressed against his, letting the heat of your touch seep into his skin. “Maybe i’ll have to show you” He was trying to be good. But you were done playing sweet.

So when you asked him to walk you to your dorm after that long study session, all soft smiles and batting lashes, you had every intention of testing that tight grip he kept on himself.

You hooked your arm around his, holding onto him like you needed his warmth, and he let you. Quiet and sweet like always.

But when you got to your door, you turned around, tugged him a little closer, fingers just barely grazing the waistband of his pants.

“Thanks for walking me, Izuku,” you said, voice low and sweet, fingers brushing just below his waistband. You leaned in, your lips grazing his jaw. “You’re always so good to me.”

That’s when you saw it. Not the flustered smile. Not the blush. His eyes.

Dark. Focused. Hungry

You tilted your head, trying one last poke. “Goodnight, Izuku.” You turned toward the door. But before your hand could touch the knob, his slammed into the wood above your head, caging you in.

You gasped, spinning around, heart jumping. His eyes weren’t flustered anymore. They were blazing.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice low—dangerous. “You’ve been teasing me all damn day. And now you’re gonna act like I’m just supposed to walk away?”

Your lips parted, breath catching. “I didn’t mean—”

His hand grabbed your chin, tilting your face up. “You did,” he growled. “You said goodnight like you didn’t spend the whole day trying to see how far you could push me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your cheek.

“You wanted my attention, baby? You’ve got it.”

Before you could react, his thigh slid between yours, pressing up hard, forcing your legs apart. You gasped and instinctively tried to close them, but he held you there—pinned and squirming. His mouth curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Ooooh, there it is,” he whispered. “You like this. You wanted this.”

He leaned close, lips ghosting over your jaw, hot breath sending chills down your spine.

“You’re not nearly as innocent as you pretend to be” You opened your mouth to throw out another cheeky line—but you didn’t get the chance.

His lips crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue, stealing your breath. There was nothing sweet about it. It was greedy, rough—punishing. Like he was tasting every smirk, every teasing laugh you gave him that day.

You moaned, grabbing at his shirt, desperate for more. He didn’t stop.

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. You felt the hardness straining against his pants, pressed perfectly against where you needed it. You whimpered.

He kicked the door open and shoved it shut behind him, never breaking the kiss. Carried you to the bed like you weighed nothing. Then he dropped you onto the mattress and climbed on top of you.

His fingers gripped your hips, hauling you closer, grinding his cock right against your soaked panties through your shorts.

“Feel that?” he rasped, voice dark and gleeful. “I’m hard for you. Have been all damn day.”

You couldn’t even speak—just gasped, clinging to him, your mind spinning from the pressure, the heat, the filthy things he was saying in that shaky, desperate, cocky voice.

“I’ve been so good,” he hissed, voice shaking as his forehead pressed to yours, his breath coming in ragged little pants. “So fucking good for you.”

He ground his hips forward again—harder this time. You cried out, your hands flying up to clutch his shoulders as the thick, heavy heat of him rubbed right against your sweet spot.

His eyes fluttered shut. He bit back a moan.

“Held back every damn time you touched me—every time you climbed in my lap with those pretty eyes, makin’ those little sounds—and I didn’t touch you like I wanted to.”

He dragged his hips against you again, slower this time. Deeper. His voice broke—pleading now.

“Tell me I’ve been good, baby,” he whispered, raw and low, like it was killing him. “Tell me I’ve been good for you.”

You whimpered, nodding, clinging to him like you might fall apart. “You’ve been so good, Zuku—so good, baby—”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes—now blown wide, wild with want—and smiled.

“I want you to ruin me, Zuku.”

He let out the filthiest, neediest sound you’d ever heard, like your words physically wrecked him.

He thrust forward again, harder this time—enough to make you cry out.

He nuzzled against your neck now, lips brushing your skin, his voice lower—more vulnerable.

“Think you’re ready to take me, baby?” he asked, tilting your chin up again. “’Cause when I get inside you—I’m not stopping.”

You gasped his name, dizzy from the friction, from the way he was everywhere.

His eyes swept over you, dark and unreadable.

“Strip,” he said, calm. Too calm.

You blinked, breathless. Your jaw dropped slightly. But your thighs pressed together. You slowly sat up, pulling your shirt off one shoulder, then paused, lips curled in a challenge.

“If you want me naked so bad,” you purred, “you should do something about it, Zuku.”

His eyes flared. He was on you in a second. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and yanked it over your head, then dragged your shorts down your thighs in one rough pull, leaving you in your underwear.

“You’re real brave with your clothes on ya know?,” he muttered, kissing down your stomach, teeth scraping lightly at your hip.

“You really gonna fuck me like you’re mad?” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dipped below your waistband.

He leaned up, lips brushing your ear.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m gonna fuck you like I’ve been waiting.” god—you were done for.

His mouth was on you—

Hot, wet, perfect. His tongue moved like he was memorizing every part of you—slow drags, then sharp flicks over your clit that had you gasping, fingers digging into his curls.

“Izukuuu—”

“Say my name again like that,” he murmured, eyes flicking up, glazed and desperate. “Say it while you cum on my tongue.”

And you did. Hard. Arching up, thighs trembling around his head, crying out for him as the pressure snapped and pleasure crashed over you like a wave.

But he didn’t stop. Not even close.

He kept licking, slower now, gentle—like he was soothing you through the high. His hand trailed up your body, calloused fingers brushing your ribs, your breast, until he was hovering over you again.

His cock pressed hard and heavy against your thigh through his sweats.

You sat up as he straightened, taking off his shirt. Now seeing his barea chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed, lips parted.

You reached down slowly, eyes locked on his, fingers curling into the waistband of his pants.

He didn’t stop you. Just watched. Watched with dark, hungry eyes, looking up at him like you were about to worship him.

You pulled his pants down, dragging his boxers with them, and—Your breath hitched.

His cock sprang free, flushed and hard, twitching as the cool air hit him. It bobbed once, landing right in front of your face, heavy and aching. You bit your lip, eyes wide with awe and want.

“Tell me again,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked, full of that ache he’d been holding back for so long. “Tell me I’ve been good. Tell me I deserve to fuck you.” His hand came up—not rough this time—just soft. Gentle. He cradled the back of your head like you were the most fragile thing in the world, fingers threading through your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. His thumb brushed just behind your ear.

It was so tender it made your heart stutter.

“You’ve been good, Zuku,” you whispered, voice cracking as your hands fisted in the sheets. “So good to me. You waited. You were patient. You didn’t rush anything.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, eyes fluttering shut like he needed to feel everything. But then, in a snap, that softness twisted into something hotter. Darker.

He grabbed your neck and shoved you flat onto the bed so fast you barely had time to process it. Your back hit the mattress, breath stolen from your lungs, hands grasping at the sheets as he towered over you.

He let out a low groan, hips twitching forward. “Tell me I can.” his grip around your neck let up for you to breathe.

“You can. I want you inside me. Please, Izuku—I need you.” He finally gave in.

One hand braced on your thigh, the other gripping your waist, he sank into you slow at first—inch by inch, letting you feel every stretch, every bit of him until he bottomed out with a guttural sound.

You cried out, back arching, breath knocked from your lungs.

He snapped his hips forward, hard and deep, and you saw stars.

He was relentless now.

Each thrust slammed into you with dizzying force—deep, punishing, perfect. His grip on your waist had tightened, fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Your moans had turned to cries, hands scrambling to hold onto anything—him, the sheets, your sanity.

His thrusts grew rougher, more desperate—like something inside him had snapped completely, like the leash had finally given way.

The bed slammed into the wall over and over again, the headboard banging so loud you could barely hear yourself moan. Each thrust sent a sharp jolt through the frame, until even the bolts started to rattle loose beneath you.

“Izuku—” you gasped, hands scrambling at the sheets. “You’re gonna break the—”

CRACK.

“Baby I- I can’t stop” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “I’m not deep enough in you.”

The headboard split with a sharp snap, wood splintering under the force of his grip as he braced himself, hips snapping forward with punishing rhythm.

Your thighs trembled, legs falling open wider just to take him, even as pain bloomed where his hips met yours. You knew you’d be bruised with dark marks between your legs.

“Z-Zuku—!” you gasped, eyes glassy, vision blurred. “Too much—!”

But your legs didn’t close. Your hips didn’t pull away. If anything, they lifted, begging for more.

Because god, it hurt, but it was so good. That line between pleasure and pain blurred until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Your body needed it. Needed him.

“I’m hurting you—” he choked out between thrusts, breath shaking as he slowed just for a second. “I—I don’t wanna hurt you—”

“You’re not,” you moaned, nails raking down his back. “You feel so fucking good, Izuku. Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop—”

His pace returned, rough and needy, but his hand slid to your face, cupping your cheek—tender, even as he wrecked you.

“You’re everything,” he panted, kissing your lips between thrusts. “You’re—fuck—you take me so well.”

Your body trembled, every nerve on fire, tears prickling in your eyes from the intensity, from how much he gave you—how deeply he wanted you.

And when his fingers found your clit and circled once, twice, just right—

You screamed. Your back arched off the mattress, a strangled scream ripped from your throat, and your whole body snapped.

The orgasm hit you like a wave. Blinding. Overwhelming. Your legs locked around him, hips bucking, hands fisting in his hair.

“ZUKU—!”

Your voice broke, trembling as you sobbed through it, clenching around him so hard his rhythm stuttered.

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, head dropping to your neck. “You’re—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—!”

He was losing it.

You felt it in the way he started to fall apart—his thrusts erratic, his moans louder, deeper, needier. He braced his forehead against yours, eyes screwed shut, muscles shaking with the effort to hold on.

“I’m—baby, I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

You cupped his face this time, kissed him through your wrecked smile. “Do it. I want it in me. Izuku—please.”

That was all he needed.

With a strangled cry, he buried himself deep one last time—so deep—and came, hips jerking, body trembling above you as he gasped your name like a prayer. You felt the warmth flood inside you, the way his cock pulsed through every twitch.

Then everything went still.

Just the sound of your heartbeats. Your ragged breathing. His soft whimpers as he collapsed on top of you, chest heaving.

You wrapped your arms around him, threading fingers through his messy curls.

“Hey,” you whispered, still breathless. “You didn’t hurt me- I mean you hurt everything around us.” He lifted his head slowly, green eyes soft again—glassy, concerned. “promise?” You smiled, kissed the tip of his nose. “You were perfect, Zuku.”

A shy grin tugged at his lips, and he melted into you with a shaky laugh, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured.

“Good,” you whispered. “I want to be the only one who gets you like this.”

“You already are,” he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“I love you”

[botanicsoul]

Cigarettes during sex

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (smut)

MDNI (18+)

description: Okay, so every time I hear Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex, all I can think about is this one fic (that I totally can’t remember the author of, but it’s one of my faves) where Bakugou and the reader share their first kiss, and the song is playing in the background. It was too perfect. So I took the band’s name, put a twist on it and ran like hell with it to create this little piece of chaos. Enjoy the ride folks!!!

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

The house was quiet. It always was at this hour.

You’d grown used to it—the empty bed, the distant hum of the city beyond your window, the way the sheets always felt colder on his side. It wasn’t that you didn’t love your life with him. You did. But loving a pro-hero meant nights like these—curling up alone while he was out fighting villains, keeping the world safe at the cost of his own peace.

Your nightly routine had become muscle memory. Face washed, skin moisturized, teeth brushed. The only sound in the house was the gentle padding of your feet against the hardwood floor as you moved from the bathroom to the bedroom.

You pulled back the covers and slipped into bed, letting the familiar warmth wrap around you. The scent of clean linen and faint traces of his cologne still clung to the pillows, though it had faded over time.

With a quiet sigh, you turned on your side and let your eyes flutter shut.

And then—

The front door opened.

It wasn’t loud, but it was distinct. The telltale click of the lock, the heavy creak of the hinges, and then the sound of boots and his gauntlets hitting the ground.

Of course, you didn’t need to see him to know it was him. His presence was unmistakable, a force that filled the space like a storm rolling in. His steps were slow but firm, the heavy soles of his boots hitting the floor with just a little more weight than usual.

Then came the scent—smoke, sweat, and burnt caramel. It filled the room, wrapping around you, sinking into the fabric of the sheets like a brand. He always smelled like this after a rough night.

The bed dipped.

You were half-asleep, shifted a little to face his sitting figure on the bed, but then his voice cut through the silence.

“Go back to sleep.”

It was rough—sharp around the edges, like he didn’t want to be touched, like he was still caught in the whirlwind of whatever hell his night had put him through.

But you weren’t going to do that.

Instead, you pushed yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, your voice soft. “Rough night?”

Silence fell for a moment.

“Somethin’ like that.”

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, still in his hero suit, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His head hung low, hair damp from sweat, streaked with soot. He smelled like smoke—but not the kind that came from a battlefield.

You frowned slightly. “Baby…”

He exhaled through his nose, the muscles in his jaw tightening. His fingers twitched slightly, like he was holding something back.

Then, with a sigh, he reached for the nightstand.

You watched as he pulled out a cigarette, sliding it between his lips with one hand while the other flicked open, a small spark from his palm igniting the tip. The ember glowed softly in the dark, casting shadows across his sharp features as he inhaled deeply.

Your stomach twisted. “Katsuki—”

“I know,” he cut you off, already irritated, already defensive. “Spare me the fuckin’ lecture.”

He was such a hypocrite.

Katsuki Bakugou, pro hero Dynamight, the same man who spent years sneering at people who smoked, scoffing at the idea of putting anything in his lungs that could weaken him.

And the worst part? It wasn’t even fresh. The pack was half-crushed, barely touched. You knew damn well he’d been smoking off the same pack for a month. That’s how little he did this, but he still did it.

Smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled, filling the space between you, thick and hazy. His jaw clenched, his fingers rolling the cig between them before taking another drag, letting it burn slow in his lungs before blowing it out in a long breath.

But then he got up and turned to face you, his fingers went to his belt.

Your breath hitched as he unbuckled it, the soft clink of metal ringing in the silence. Your eyes lingered—trailing down, following the way his hands moved, the way his fingers worked open the button, slid down the zipper. The way you could see his half-hard dick through his grey boxers and, fuck, that happy trail.

Heat crept up your neck, pooling in your stomach as your thighs pressed together instinctively.

Katsuki exhaled smoke through his nose before side-eyeing you, catching the way your gaze lingered.

The sight of him like this—half-dressed, hair a mess, cigarette hanging from his lips—was unfair. It shouldn’t have affected you the way it did.

“What’cha lookin’ at, doll?” he murmured, the cigarette still between his lips.

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t look away.

He smirked, tugging his pants down just enough to sit low on his hips before palming himself through his underwear, giving himself a slow squeeze. His other hand pulled the cig from his lips as he exhaled, voice dropping into something deep, rasped, something that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“Give me a break,” he muttered, eyes dark as they met yours. “Ride it for me.”

You swallowed, lips parting slightly, unsure. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to, but—

He tilted his head, exhaling another slow breath, his tone turning almost teasing.

“Don’t make me beg, baby.”

You hesitated for a moment, uncertainty gripping you, but the heat between your thighs was undeniable. The way he looked at you—hungry, almost desperate—pushed you over the edge. It was always like this with him, when the lines between frustration and desire blurred.

Katsuki wasn’t someone who begged, and he sure as hell didn’t expect anything from you that he didn’t want. The rawness of his voice, the way his gaze burned through you, left you with no choice but to comply.

But you wanted him to want you—just as much as you wanted him, right here, right now.

“Fuck, Katsuki,” you breathed out, barely able to keep your voice steady. “You’re making this hard…”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, a sound that made your pulse spike. He leaned back on the bed, cigarette dangling from his lips as his hands slid down his boxers. His fingers grasped his length, giving it a slow, teasing stroke, before his gaze shifted back to you—heavy, predatory.

You quickly pulled down your underwear, eager for his dick like you hadn’t just been fucked into the headboard last week by him. But last week felt like months ago.

Katsuki’s breath was hot on your skin, the intensity of his gaze never wavering as he watched you. The burn of desire in his eyes made you feel like you were being consumed whole, and you could feel the heat of his body beneath yours as you got on top of him and began to ride him with steady, purposeful movements.

His hand gripped your hips, guiding you as you moved, but he wasn’t just focused on you. His other hand, the one that wasn’t busy holding you in place, reached over to the nightstand. You watched him carefully, his fingers brushing against the box of cigarettes, pulling one free with a practiced motion.

Before you even had time to process, he was lighting another cigarette, the ember glowing bright as he took a deep drag. The smoke swirled around him, thick and heavy, wrapping itself around you both.

His eyes never left yours as he exhaled a slow, deliberate cloud of smoke, the hazy mist floating between you like a veil of temptation. You felt the burn of his gaze as much as you felt the heat of his body. His lips curled into a smirk, watching you move above him, and you couldn’t help the rush of heat that flooded your cheeks.

“You look good like this, doll,” he murmured between drags, his voice rasping. “But don’t get shy on me now.”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, from the way he looked as he exhaled the smoke, the faint glow of the cigarette illuminating his sharp features in the dim light. The sound of his deep breaths, the way his chest rose and fell with every inhale, was like a rhythm that matched the pace of your body moving on top of his.

Your hands braced against his chest as you increased the pressure, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate motions. The friction sent a rush of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds building in your chest. Katsuki didn’t let up, though. His eyes followed every movement, his hands gripping you tighter as he took another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before blowing it out slowly, letting the cloud surround you both.

You leaned forward, your body trembling with the effort to keep moving, but the sight of him, so relaxed with that damn cigarette between his fingers, was enough to make your mind whirl. You felt the coil of heat tighten deep within you, threatening to snap.

“Fuck, Suki,” you gasped, your voice strained with the effort of riding him, the overwhelming sensation of him inside you mixing with the pull of his cigarette smoke. The blend of pleasure and the slow burn of nicotine clouded your senses.

He exhaled another cloud of smoke, his smirk widening. You could feel his cock twitch inside you, the way he was close but holding back, like he was savoring every moment of this. His hand moved from your waist, sliding up your body, cupping your breast in his hand, fingers squeezing roughly. His thumb brushed against your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“I don’t need you to make it pretty,” he continued, voice dark and full of command. “Just fuckin’ ride my cock. You hear me?”

The edge in his tone made your heart race, and you pushed yourself to go harder, faster. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, your breathing frantic as you chased that release. The whole room smelled of him—his cologne, the lingering smoke, and the undeniable scent of sex that filled the space with every movement.

His lips parted, another slow drag from the cigarette as he let the smoke roll from his mouth, watching you with eyes that were borderline feral now. “You look so good like this,” he grunted, his grip on your hips tightening as he met you thrust for thrust. “Gonna make me fuckin’ lose it, baby…”

That was all you needed. The words, the sight of him with his cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, his eyes dark with hunger—it sent you tumbling over the edge. Your body tensed, your hands digging into his chest as you came undone, the pleasure rippling through you in waves.

Katsuki followed shortly after, his hands tightening on your hips as he gave one last powerful thrust up into your hips, his release hitting deep inside you as he groaned, his lips curling around the cigarette in his mouth as he took one final drag, blowing it out with a shudder.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, exhausted and sated, but he wasn’t done yet. He sat up a little, still holding you, still partially inside you. He took another drag from the cigarette, his breath shallow as he exhaled the smoke, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he said, his voice low and thick. “I didn’t mean to wake you in the first place.”

You chuckled softly, half-exhausted and still caught in the haze of the moment. “You promise you’re fine?”

He just smirked, tossing the half-finished cigarette onto the floor.

“Just some stupid fuckin’ villain got away, had me all fucked up, but you made me feel better.”

You watched him toss the cigarette on the floor, too tired to give him shit for it.

“I’m glad, but please no more cigarettes, alright?”

He rolled his eyes before closing them and pulling you in closer than you were.

“We’ll see about that.”

[botanicsoul]

Breaking Rules

Tenya Iida x (fem) Reader

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

It was nearly midnight when Tenya Iida’s door creaked open.

He blinked in disbelief, hand still on the knob, gaze flickering rapidly between the digital clock on his nightstand—11:58 p.m.—and the sight standing right in front of him.

You. Wearing nothing but fuzzy slippers, a pair of cotton shorts that barely clung to the tops of your thighs, and an oversized t-shirt that slipped off one shoulder. You looked sleepy, cozy, soft—utterly dangerous.

“Hi” you whispered, smiling up at him with that innocent tilt of your head.

Tenya’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed. He glanced down the hallway—left, right, even toward the security camera near the ceiling—like you’d brought a bomb to his front door instead of yourself.

“D-Do you have any idea what time it is?” he stammered. “This is entirely inappropriate. If someone were to see—if a teacher or even a classmate—”

“No one’s around,” you interrupted calmly, stepping closer. “And we don’t have class tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that this is a direct violation of—of the student handbook! Visitors aren’t allowed after curfew and—” You placed a gentle hand on his chest. “Tenya,” you said, quietly, “it’s just one night.”

His mouth trembled around a protest, but your hand curled around his wrist and you stepped inside his room before he could finish. He backed up, heartbeat hammering in his chest like he’d just broken the law. You shut the door softly behind you.

Walking toward his bed. “I just wanna sleep next to my boyfriend.” He stood frozen in the middle of the room, face flushed, glasses fogged. His striped pajamas clung to his long frame—the shirt buttoned all the way up to his collarbone. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides as you climbed into his bed like it was yours.

He joined you after a long pause, his movements stiff and unsure. He laid flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like he was trying to recite the U.A. rulebook in his head to stop thinking about the warmth of your thigh brushing his.

You turned on your side, propping yourself up on one elbow as your eyes wandered to the way the soft cotton of his pajama shirt pulled over his broad chest. Slowly, you swung a leg over his waist and straddled him.

He went still.

“W-What are you doing?” His voice cracked. “Th-this is not proper. This—”

“It’s just so hot in here,” you said softly, tracing your fingers along the edge of his shirt. “Aren’t you hot, Iida baby?”

His hips jerked slightly—barely noticeable, but it was enough.

Your fingers dipped down, slowly undoing the first button of his shirt. He swallowed hard.

“sorta—please, you shouldn’t…”

Another button undone. His chest began to show—hard lines of muscle, smooth skin, warmth rising under your touch.

“Please…” he whispered again, but it was weak now, breathy.

You unbuttoned another. Then another. The shirt parted, revealing the full expanse of his toned torso—taut abs, the curve of his obliques, that perfect divot leading down beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, then down the center of his chest. His hands clutched the sheets at his sides, his head tipping back into the pillow.

“Y-You have to stop,” he whispered.

But his hips bucked up into you. His cock was already hard beneath you—thick, twitching beneath the fabric, pressing against your core through your shorts.

“it doesn’t feel like you want me to stop tenya”

You rolled your hips down gently, letting the friction spark between your bodies. He gasped.

“You’re already so hard,” you murmured. “I thought this was inappropriate”

He groaned, face flushed red to the tips of his ears. “I-I can’t… I can’t think straight when you—”

“Then stop thinking,” you whispered against his neck. “Just feel.”

His hands finally rose—slow, trembling—and landed on your hips. His grip was firm. Desperate.

His hands stayed on your hips, trembling slightly as you rocked against him. You could feel him now—really feel him. Hard, hot, twitching beneath you, straining against the thin fabric of his pajama pants.

His chest heaved with every shallow breath. His eyes met yours—wide, pleading, conflicted.

“I-I should stop you.” he whispered.

“You don’t want to.”

He exhaled, shaky and soft. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

You kissed him.

He gasped into your mouth like he’d never been kissed like that before—like he hadn’t let himself want it until now. Your lips moved slowly over his, guiding him, coaxing his control apart with every brush and tug. And when you ground your hips down again, he groaned into your mouth—loudly, head tipping back into the pillow, breath completely stolen.

You pulled back just enough to murmur, “Can I take this off you?” He nodded—quick, breathless.

You pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, finally exposing all of him. He was beautiful—broad chest, sculpted abs, and strong arms you’d only imagined holding you like this. Your fingers slid over the planes of his torso, and you felt the way his muscles tensed under your touch, like he was barely holding himself back.

Then your hands moved lower. Over his waistband. Beneath the hem. slipped your hand into his pants and wrapped your fingers around him.

He was big—thick and flushed and so painfully hard it made him whimper when you stroked him for the first time. His hips bucked up again, completely unintentional, and his head fell back against the pillow with a deep groan.

“Oh my god—” His voice cracked. “I-It feels… I don’t even have words—”

“Good?” you teased softly, brushing your thumb over the leaking tip. He nodded furiously, mouth falling open.

You leaned down and kissed down his chest again as you stroked him—slow, steady, watching how quickly he unraveled beneath you. His hips had a mind of their own now, chasing your hand, desperate for more friction. His hands gripped your thighs like a lifeline.

“Iida,” you whispered against his neck, “you’re so sensitive. You’re gonna come like this, aren’t you?”

You could still feel him twitching against your palm, his breath shaky and uneven beneath you. His face was flushed, chest rising and falling in soft, stunned waves. You started to lean down to kiss him again—but then Tenya surprised you.

He grabbed your hips suddenly, strong and sure, and flipped you onto your stomach in one smooth motion. You let out a surprised gasp as you landed on your elbows, your shorts riding up to expose the curve of your ass.

“Tenya—?”

He didn’t answer.

His hands slid over your hips like he was memorizing them. His breath was ragged behind you as he pushed your oversized shirt up your back, exposing the soft skin beneath. You looked over your shoulder at him—he’d taken his glasses off, hair slightly messy now, the pajama shirt tossed to the floor.

His eyes were dark now. Heavy-lidded. Starving. “W-We shouldn’t,” he whispered, voice breaking. “We’ve never…”

“But you want to,” you said softly.

His hands gripped tighter. His thumbs dug into the flesh of your hips as he groaned, so low it barely escaped his throat. “I want to,” he admitted, his voice strained, “so badly, I can’t wait anymore.”

He tugged your shorts down slowly—pausing when they reached your thighs, like he was giving you one last chance to stop him.

You didn’t.

So he pushed them down fully, his palm sliding over your bare ass. He let out a shuddering breath. “You’re… perfect.”

You smiled into the pillow. “Then do something about it, Tenya—show me how perfect I am to you.”

That broke something in him.

You heard the rustle of fabric behind you—his pants being shoved down just a little more. The thick, hard press of him against your entrance, rubbing along your folds. He wasn’t inside yet, just teasing. Coating himself in your slick.

You whimpered and pushed your hips back. “Please, baby…” Tenya exhaled hard through his nose, leaning over your back and whispering near your ear, “You have to be quiet.”

“I will,” you promised, already trembling with need. “Please, fuck me I need you.”

And then he pushed in. You bit into the pillow as he filled you—slow, careful, but so deep. He gasped behind you, like your body had knocked the air right out of his lungs.

“F-Fuck,” he whispered, and the curse in his mouth sounded forbidden. “You feel… oh god, you feel amazing…”

He stayed still for a moment, trembling, holding your hips like if he let go he might fall apart completely.

Then he started to move. Slow at first—controlled, deep thrusts that made you moan against the sheets. His grip was bruising, his breath hot against your back. He groaned every time he pushed in, fighting the urge to get rougher.

But your hips kept meeting him. Rolling back. Begging for more.

“Stop doing that,” he rasped.

“Doing what?” you asked innocently.

“Pushing back like that. I can’t— I can’t keep it quiet if—”

You did it again. And that was it.

His hand slid up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades to arch your spine for him. His hips snapped forward faster, harder—deep and filthy. The sound of skin against skin filled the room in soft, rhythmic slaps, and even though you were trying to stay quiet, little gasps and whimpers kept slipping out of your mouth.

Tenya leaned forward, chest against your back, lips brushing your ear. “Be quiet,” he whispered. “You’re going to get us caught.”

But the way he fucked you said something else entirely.

“I-i can’t when your dick is literally h-hitting my fuc-fucking organs”

His hand reached down and rubbed slow circles over your clit, and your whole body tensed. “Tenya—!” He groaned, biting down softly on your shoulder to muffle his own moan as you clenched around him.

“Come for me,” he begged. “Please—please let me feel you—”

You came with a soft, broken cry, your body shaking beneath him. Your thighs trembled, your back arched, and Tenya’s pace turned sloppy, frantic. His hands gripped your hips like he was anchoring himself, and with one last, deep thrust, he came inside you—his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

He collapsed gently over your back, breathing hard, lips brushing your skin as he whispered your name like a prayer.

For a long moment, the room was nothing but silence and the hum of your heartbeats, tangled together in a mess of sweat and soft gasps.

“…This was so against the rules,” he whispered.

You smiled into the pillow. “And you loved every second.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “I think I might love you.”

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

[botanicsoul]

Bad Friend

(Yandere) Izuku midoriya x reader

MDNI!!! (18+)

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.

You could still hear Uraraka’s voice in your head, bright and full of warmth. “I just think he’s amazing, you know? Izuku’s so kind and hardworking… I don’t know, I just—I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

You felt sick.

Because right now, Izuku Midoriya was pressed against you, lips bruising yours, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t sweet. He was devouring you, taking everything you had to give, and worst of all? You were letting him.

“God, you’re a horrible friend,” Izuku growled against your ear, his breath ragged as he pulled your hips closer to his, grinding against you. You whimpered, a mix of shame and arousal twisting in your gut. His voice dripped with something dark—mocking.

He knew what he was doing. He knew this was wrong. But he didn’t care.

And that made it worse.

“She tells you everything, doesn’t she?” he continued, hands trailing up your sides, rough and possessive. “All those little daydreams she has about me. How she wonders what it would be like to hold my hand. How she wishes I’d kiss her.” His lips curled into a smirk against your throat, teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you shudder. “Too bad, huh?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt clawing at your chest. You should stop this. You should push him away. You should care.

But his hands were on you, his body pressing you into the mat of the training room floor, his weight making it impossible to think about anything but him.

Izuku chuckled lowly, voice dripping with condescension. “You’re not even trying to fight me, are you?” He shifted his hips against you again, dragging another sinful whimper from your lips. His emerald eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with something dangerous. “Some best friend you are. Poor Uraraka. She has no idea what a backstabbing little cunt you are.”

“Shut up,” you gasped, but there was no real fight behind it.

“Make me.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, but he only pressed you down harder, caging you beneath him. “You knew she liked me,” he murmured, lips brushing over your pulse. “You knew, and yet…” His tongue flicked over your skin, slow and teasing, before his teeth sank in just enough to make you gasp. “Here you are. Letting me do whatever I want to you.”

You hated how much you loved the way he talked to you. Hated the way his words sent heat rushing through your body.

“Izuku…”

His grip tightened, dragging your hips flush against his. “Say it again,” he demanded, voice husky. “Say my name like you’re mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. But your lips parted, and his name spilled from them like a prayer.

He groaned, his hand fisting in your hair, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. His expression was downright sinful. “You’re not getting away from me now,” he murmured, leaning in so close that your noses brushed. “Not after this anyways”

The possessiveness in his voice sent another rush of guilt crashing through you.

Uraraka. Uraraka. Uraraka.

But Izuku kissed you again, and for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you were supposed to care.