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victorymcsplodey · 29 days

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LiSyK: Lesson One

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Concubine Reader and Kirishima, Smut, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex, Unprepared Sex, Cum Eating (Kinda). Word Count: 5k.

A/N: So, it's a series... No regular uploads, I'm just going to see where it goes.

Bakugo claps his hands, the sound echoing around the chamber like a rifle shot. 'You'll find my bed behind you.'

You blanch. 'Your bed, my lord?'

Concubines were a fixture of the royal rooms and have been for as long as anyone could remember. It wasn't unusual to see a collection of beautiful men and women lounging in living rooms or bedrooms, their skin almost entirely bare with only silk and gold to adorn them. Some, if favoured enough, were even gifted their own rooms were they could entertain their lord at their leisure.

And yet, it was unheard of to entertain a prince in his own chambers.

'Is there something wrong with my bed?' Bakugo's voice is a growl, low and deadly in the back of his throat. The idea of seeing you, the two of you, in his own bed sets up a stirring in his groin – one the demands to have its reward.

'No... No, I -.'

Kirishima's voice is an even timber when he steps in, easily picking up where your babbling had left you off. 'To share your personal bed chamber is a true honour, my lord.'

You curtsey, bowing you head low, thankful for the out.

The implications of Bakugo's excitement swarm in his head, but the buzzing never comes close to dampening his desire. Nodding towards the bed, he clenches his jaw tight. He'll deal with whatever fall out that comes later, right now... Both his heart and cock are set on this. 'Continue.'

Perching on the edge of the bed, you scoot backwards until your back presses against the plush cushions piled at the headboard. You can feel your pulse migrate, its steady rhythm sinking lower and lower until you're forced to resist the urge to cover your sex.

At the foot of the bed stands Kirishima. He smiles, soft and without his teeth, the apples of his cheeks swelling as he tries to render you at ease. The bump of his throat bobs as he leans forward, hands braced on the mattress as he prepares the advance on you, but before he can move, Bakugo's voice is ringing out clear from across the room.

Even across the room, Bakugo's throne feels far too close for comfort. He perches there, one knee raised with all the posture of a boy king. Atop his head the gold circlet of his crown sits off centre, the mess of his hair forcing it to tip towards his forehead. Beneath, his ruby eyes shine – deadly in their stare as he grips the edges of his chair with an almost white-knuckled force.

'Strip.' It's a command. One he's glad doesn't slip from his tongue with the anxiety that bubbles in his stomach. The acid is thick there, anticipation turning to bile as he fidgets, hoping neither of you can see his cock already raising to half mast under his trousers. 'Bare yourself to us.'

You swallow, tasting trepidation at the back of your tongue as you sit up and work at the straps of your covering. You'd been gifted new clothing after being chosen by the prince, upgrading your simple cloth rags for finer silks and golden bands. Now, a thin silken top cascades over your chest, the folds of the material deep and red, like waves of fresh fire licking at your skin. At your neck, a chain keeps the material from falling as it hangs from your golden collar.

The collar bares a series of symbols. Those for both the house of Bakugo, granting you movement throughout the entire fortress and those for the prince himself: a mark of his ownership. The chain wraps your back too, meeting in a clasp that you quickly undo, allowing the material to sink and expose the edges of your breasts as you work at loosing the chain to let the entire article slip away.

Kirishima's eyes linger. He can't help it. The fabric covering you slips to the mattress and immediately leaves you bare. Soft tits fill his vision, the gentle rise and fall of your chest making them jiggle slightly as you try and calm your breathing. His palms are sweating, making him thankful for the bedsheets under his hands and his voice demands he speak words of praise and devotion, even despite his not having permission to utter a word.

For the prince to be able to touch you seems obvious, for you're nothing short of a royal gift, but for him... He's not quite sure how he managed to get so lucky to be allowed to lay his eyes on a treasure such as you.

'Show him everything.' Bakugo clicks his tongue. His fist is balled in his pants, pulling them from his crotch to save their staining. Shifting in his seat, he attempts to hide his arousal. Not for the first time, he's glad he placed himself away from your gazes.

'Yes, my lord.' Your breathing catches as you unbuckle the silk skirt at your hips. You'd been denied underthings. Such items are inconvenient for the prince, should his cock wish to be buried in your tight heat at short notice. Instead, leather straps sit at your hips with long silken strips of material stitched to their edges. Falling to mid calf, the material flows effortlessly with your movement just as it drifts easily to the floor now as you unbuckle it.

'Knees apart.'

You comply, sensing the tightness in the princes voice and drop your knees, exposing the softness of your inner thighs and the sweetness of your sex to the air.

You're dripping. Even from this distance Kirishima can tell. There's a sheen coating your skin, a slick mix of arousal that gives off a heady scent. It infests his lungs, soaks into the roof of his mouth as he drags more of your aroma into him with each breath. His fingers twitch on the mattress gathering more sheet between them as he tries to stop himself from moving too soon and gaining the punishment of the prince.

Bakugo leans so far off his throne he's not confident he won't fall. He's never smelt sex before, but if it smells anything like you do, he's not sure he'll ever be able to be without it. Your musk is an aphrodisiac, making his mouth water and his cock twitch as he gives up attempting to hide his erection. Reaching for his belt, he loosens the buckle and reaches into his pants squeezing around the base of his cock as he pulls it into the air.

The princes cock is average in length. Delicate, almost, in how it bends slightly to the left – the rose petal head rounded and plump, dribbling more than it's fair share of pre-cum down the man's fist. Along the pale shaft, a series of purpling vein's break up the tone. Most are wide, pulsing with his heartbeat and splaying as they reach his base, where a delicate crop of blonde hair obscures the rest. It's darker than the hair on his head, closer to the brown of his fathers as it trails, reaching up over the muscle of his stomach and beyond.

Kirishima gulps, quickly snapping his gaze from over his shoulder and back to you. He can't say for certain, but he's pretty sure he has a bigger cock than the prince.

It should be an ego boost, something to brag about in those few moments of peace he's awarded outside of his royal duty, except there's just one thing he's worried about.

You.

'Stretch yourself...' Clenching his teeth, Bakugo refuses to show his breathlessness. His cock kicks in his hand, demanding a friction he withholds; but even with his precaution, there's no removing his affliction entirely from his visage. He straightens, rolling his shoulders to flatten against the back of his throne. Still, greed and longing sink into his tone. 'Let me see.'

Reaching between your thighs, you do as your told. The stickiness of your cunt clings to your fingers immediately, your clit twitching as clumsy fingers spread into a 'V' to expose your insides.

'Fuck.' The word trips from Kirishima's tongue carelessly and drops into the air like the last firework at new year. Around him, the world freezes – the muscles of his shoulders tense as he watches your abdomen hitch. He hadn't been given permission to speak. For all he knows, your allure has truly become the end of him. After all, it isn't unknown for rulers to punish their concubines for far less than speaking out of turn.

Bakugo clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and savours the knot that appears in the centre of Kirishima's back. The muscles bunch, writhing in a manner that makes him wonders if he could recreate it. 'Yeah...' He sighs. 'Fuck.' Coughing the delicacy from his voice, he licks over his lips before addressing the scene again. 'You. Kirishima. Strip.'

Kirishima complies in a heartbeat.

His loin cloth is much like yours in design, a thick strip of leather wrapping his waist just below his navel that buckles at either hip. Attached is the same material, thin and translucent and falling to mid-thigh; sheer enough to almost see the heft of his cock as it lays against his thighs.

Thick fingers work at the buckles, nimbly loosening the leather until he can swiftly shuck the material down his legs and discard it with a flick of his foot.

From his throne, Bakugo has to bite back the groan that threatens to rock through his chest and spill into the air. His mouth waters. Kirishima's cock is larger than he'd expected... A lot larger than he'd expected.

It bends under it's own weight, almost hanging despite his being fully hard. His foreskin is dark, a flush of deep mauve that slips back just enough to expose a slither of dark cherry head. Pre-cum leaks from him like a tap. It glistens on his skin, making the two thick vein's that raise from his skin just below his head glow in vague purple as they pulse. The crop of hair at his base is thick and black, a stark contrast to his own pale, downy hair.

Bakugo swallows, ridding his throat of the desire to be full. His tongue flattens to the roof of his mouth, his taste buds desperate for a lick of whatever divine nector drips from the pair of you. 'Go on then...' He barks, excitement flooding his bloodstream as he attempts to maintain some kind of dignity with his hand still squeezing the base of his cock. 'Fuck her.'

'I... Uhm,' Kirishima's cock bobs, threatening to steal his cohesion. He struggles to remember his teachings, a million and one things racing through his mind as he tries to remember the diagrams and words of the old mothers. 'I need to, to... Prepare her first.'

'Of course.' Bakugo frowns. He knew that. Of course, he knew that – he's eager, that's all. Maybe a little too eager.

'Can... Can I?' Kirishima's eyes shine when he brings them up to meet you. There's a gentleness there, a softness that barely disguises the blind pleasure that coils his stomach into knots. He reaches forward, a hand brushing the skin of your shin as his thumb draws an awkward half-circle in your calve.

You nod. With your fingers still spreading your cunt, you can feel the rush of slick that gathers there as you wait under his gaze for your devouring. It coats your fingers, leaving strings of pearl on your skin like jewellery.

Kirishima climbs up onto the bed, forcing it to dip under his weight. You feel bare laying there, exposed, as you watch his eyes dip between your legs and grows hungry. Fighting the urge to snap shut your legs and scramble away, you force yourself to relax. No-one has seen you quite like this before. Your intimacies have always been your own, exposed only to the King's consort Inko to confirm your virginity before a bright 'V' had been painted on your chest.

You wonder if you're pretty down there. If you look appealing... Fuckable.

A large hand wraps your thigh, a reassuring squeeze drawing you from your thoughts and back into the moment. Kirishima smiles, the tips of his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he reaches out with his other arm and hovers centimetres away from your sex. He catches your eye, eyebrows raising slightly on his forehead as the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. 'You'll tell me if you want me to stop, won't you?'

There's a trepidation lingering under his skin, the kind of anxiety that is laced with excitement and easily highlights his inexperience and yet, his movements are sure when he finally touches you.

The pad of his thumb swipes at your clit making your back arch. Your eyes widen as the breath is taken from your lungs, a soft gasp leaping from your mouth. You become aware of your body then, more aware than you've ever been as the tingles of pleasure begin to recede with his touch. It leaves you raw and desperate, hips lifting from the bed in order to seek him out once more.

'Louder.' Bakugo's voice is broken. His cock still sit in his hand, pulsing angrily at it's neglect. Already he can feel his balls pulling up tight against him, threatening an end to something he hasn't even been able to start yet. 'Make her louder.'

Kirishima repeats the action. This time, the pad of his thumb presses harder, circling, until he earns another gasp from your lungs. He's surprised to learn that you're soft. Softer than he'd expected. You're so wet he can feel it clinging to his skin, the heat radiating through his thumb and making his mouth water. Against the mattress his cock stirs, smearing pre-cum against his stomach as he grinds down, offering himself only the smallest amounts of relief. He licks his teeth. 'Can...' His thumb moves lower, slipping off the wet hood of your clit and hovering over your entrance. 'Can I?'

'Please.' Lifting your hips from the bed, you attempt to rub his thumb back over your clit, desperate for more of his touch. You don't know what he's offering, you're not sure you care as long as it means you get to feel his hands on you again. 'Please...'

With your permission, Kirishima presses into you until you squeeze around the base of his thumb. You're hot inside, your walls silken and soaking, tightening around him as he pulls back out, testing your reactions. His eyes flicker to yours, a quick check in before he twists his wrist and offers you two fingers. This time you struggle with the stretch. He can feel it, the flutter in your walls as you breathe through the intrusion, but soon enough, you're relaxing, sucking him in and whining soft and breathy above him.

Your voice doesn't feel like your own. Each noise that escapes you is new, sinfully sweet as it escapes your throat and floats through the air. The women at the temple may have trained you, but they had never prepared you for this. Their lessons had always been focused on pleasing, not being pleased – the pillow dances and allure routines, all of it was useless here with you on your back and a man's thick fingers pressing up into the spongy roof of your cunt.

You writhe as a pressure builds below your pubic bone, encouraging a series of moans to leak from your mouth. It feels as though you might burst as your cunt clenches, but before you can discover just what comes next Bakugo's voice is spilling into the room and Kirishima's fingers still inside of you.

Bakugo is hanging on by a thread. His cock has gone pale with his grip around the base, his balls pulled so tight he can feel his pulse beating through them. Still, he refuses to embarrass himself. Not without seeing what he came to see. 'That's enough...' He speaks through his teeth, gritting out his words. 'Fuck her already.'

Kirishima looks to you before he moves. His brow is set, his eyes cool as he waits for your permission once again. He crawls over you until his arms bracket your shoulders, your chests almost level.

You look stunning like this, your lips shining, eyes wide and watery as you heave in deep, steadying breaths. There's no denying that he wants you, the sheer fact he's been allowed to touch you alone has his cock jumping against his stomach, but his mother's taught him to be respectful before anything else and so, he waits...

'I said...' Bakugo growls, but before he can finish his sentence, you're shifting.

Looking between you body and Kirishima's, you stifle a squeak as you see just what you have to contend with. Lined up as he is, it seems as though he'd reach your navel with ease – a far from appetising idea and yet, there's a yearning that spreads from the curve of your stomach to the depths of your cunt. One that has your insides tingling.

You don't care how big he is.

Don't care if it'll hurt.

As a matter of fact... A small piece of you wishes it will.

You reach between your legs, petting over your pubic hair until you can smooth your fingers across the twitching peak of your clit. A breathy whine slips from between your lips, but you continue, denying yourself in the quest for something more. Slipping further, you take two of your own fingers and arc your spine, feeling the beating of your cunt squeezing around you softly. With the other hand, you lean forward, taking Kirishima's cock in your palm and giving it a slow, gentle tug.

The man shudders at your touch. His whole body quakes at the faintest gripping of your fingertips, thick muscles rippling like he might collapse. Locking his elbows, he narrowly avoids falling on top of you as you ease him down and press his tip to your clit. He's panting openly now, his chest heaving as he struggles against the sin of your hands. If he's like this now, he dares not to think of what the tight heat of your cunt will do to him.

Tapping him against you once, twice – you enjoy each jolt of pleasure as it zips down your legs. It leaves you tingling and wanting more as you finally, finally line him up with your entrance. His cock catches against you, but before you can bask in the power you hold over him, Kirishima slips his hand between your bodies and collects your wrists in one, large palm.

He doesn't speak when he pins your hands above your head, he doesn't think he can. Instead, he holds your eye and hopes you can see what you're doing to him. Shifting his hips, he rocks into you and almost sees the Gods when the head of his cock sinks into you. You feel divine, hot and wet and tight and begging for his release. He breathes, unsure just how long he'll last. For a moment he waits, giving you just the tip and nothing more, waiting for the both of you to adjust.

The stretch he gives you is impossible. Even with so little of him inside of you, you feel full, incapable of taking the more you know he's going to give you. There's a burn radiating through your pelvis, a persistent, but delectable pain that subsides only as you breathe through it. You moan, a pretty noise escaping your throat as you feel him rut just a little deeper, taking the air from your lungs. Fisting your hands in whatever bedsheets you can find, your ribcage lifts from the bed, tits pressing flush with Kirishima's chest.

Bakugo thinks he might explode. He can see the rim of your cunt, Kirishima's cock stuffing it full and barley a quarter in. It's exhilarating as he watches both of you shiver, trying to hold it together as much as possible. Loosening his grip on his cock, he chances a slow, but firm pull upwards and quickly regrets it.

You moan, eyes rolling as flick up your hips as harshly as you can. The movement sheaths him further inside of you, dragging a harsh grunt out of his lungs as he falters. His cock presses up into you, bringing tears to your eyes as he slides back out almost immediately, but his fullness isn't a sensation you're willing to give up. Desperation claws at you, begs you for more, for a release you're dying to experience. 'Please, please, please...'

You're incensed, but then again, so is Kirishima.

Maybe that's why he gives you what you want, despite knowing you probably can't take it. Dipping his head to your neck, he rolls his hips to fill you completely and hopes he he can hold out long enough to please both you and the prince.

Your body struggles, cunt pulsing with that familiar sweet throb as he stills his movements once more and waits. You feel light headed, your body pulled taught as you hiccup through your next few breaths.

Teeth graze the junction of your shoulder, a whispered 'Is it too much?' tickling your ear before you feel the slow sensation of him pulling out. You move instantly. Wrapping your legs around him, you stop his retreat and squeeze tight, anxious to keep him inside, to be stretched and full.

The moan he lets out is pure sin. It's deep, guttural, lingering in his throat as he rocks his hips back into you and basks in the heaven that your cunt provides. With your ankles locked at the base of his spine, he's forced to bottom out – his thicket of pubic hair brushing against your clit making you twitch and writhe against him.

A strangled whine leaves Bakugo's throat as he comes to terms with his nearing end. He fucks his fist, hips lifting from the cushioned throne seat as he quickens his pace, eyes glued to were your two bodies meet on the bed. It takes barely a handful of strokes, especially when Kirishima's hips begin to move earning a cacophony of moans from both of your throats.

You can't help it. Neither of you can.

Both of your eyes drift to the back of the room, stealing quick glances at the prince. He looks ethereal, lost to his own throws of pleasure with his eyes squeezed shut and his head tipped back. A trickle of moans sneak from his lips despite his breath catching behind his Adam's apple, making goose flesh prickle on both of your arms. It feels wrong, to watch him like this – to see him so vulnerable, throat exposed, cock in his hand and cumming in his own fist, but you swear you've never seen a more beautiful sight.

He cums in waves. His body shaking as he coats his fist, his hand still smoothing the rest of his orgasm from his body. Eventually, his breathing levels out, the faint tingle from his release making him loose and light-headed. His skin prickles. The odd tug of being watched itching at the back of his neck, but when he finally blinks open his eyes there's no-one watching him.

Kirishima groans. He could feel you, your cunt pulsing around him as you watched the prince come undone. It spurs something inside of him, calls on him to please you in the way your body so desperately wanted to be pleased. Spreading his legs a little wider, he forces your hips open allowing him to reach even deeper inside of you and begins to rock his hips.

Something spoilt bubbles in your stomach. Watching the prince has made you hungry, but before you can get carried away feeling jealous of his release Kirishima begins to fuck you. Each of his thrusts gets deeper, his pace quickening until it becomes hard to concentrate. His cock fills you perfectly, making your whole body raw in a way you've never felt before.

It isn't long before Kirishima feels the tell tale pit in his stomach begin to swell. His balls pull up tight, the muscle in his abdomen twitching as he holds onto his composure with his finger tips. Still, he knows exactly what he has to do. Angling his hips down, he ensures his pubic bone brushes yours with each stroke, the thick mess of hair at his stomach tickling over your clit with each stroke.

You moan with each of his thrusts. There's no pain now, no sharp stabbing as his cock presses up inside of you. Instead, there's the dullness of a rising pleasure, one that threatens to tip you over the edge at any moment as you hold on for dear life. With your wrists still bound in his, it's impossible to pull him as closely as you want him, but Kirishima seems to read your mind.

Without pausing his rhythm, Kirishima presses his forehead to yours. Your eyes lock, the wildness in your iris' laid bare for him as his brow scrunches in concentration. He learns more about you in those following few seconds than he has for the week you'd been sequestered together before the selection. It's as if he's attuned to every inch of you, every hitch of your breath, each twitch of your lip and pulse of your cunt.

That's why he sees it coming.

He watches as your eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back towards the ceiling of the bed chamber. Your chest heaves, breath lodged there as a wave of pleasure strong enough to steal your breath rolls through you. Your mouth drops open, lips spit slicked and shining.

And then, then he feels your cunt pulse.

You milk him endlessly. Tightening around him in a vice he's not sure he'll ever want to escape, your pleasure is the most delectable thing he's ever experienced. A groan leaves his throat raw, his biceps shaking as he keep fucking your through your high, prolonging it for as long as possible. There had always been talk of what it was like to make a woman cum, the teachings endless, but none of it had come close to the real thing.

'Not...' Bakugo is breathless. His crown is still lob-sided, his smile lazy and satisfied as he kicks a leg back over the arm of his throne. 'Not inside. Don't come inside of her. That's an order.'

'Yes... Yes, my lord.' With his composure waning, Kirishima waits barely a beat, just until your cunt relaxes, the ghost of a smile tugging at the side of your lip. And then, he pulls out.

You whine, lurching forward as your wrists are released, but you don't get very far before thick strings of pearl are being lashed over your tits. The liquid is warm and coats your skin generously, painting you in his release. Above you, Kirishima fists his cock. His abdomen is tight, his nose scrunched, eyes heavy and half-lidded as he fights to keep looking at you.

And then, just like that, it's over.

The prince allows you a moment of reprieve, a minute or two to bask in the enormity of what has just occurred. The deflowering of a concubine was often a ritualised event and yet, here you were, with the spend of another concubine on your chest having just been taken for the first time. Kirishima's palm curls around your shoulder, steadying you as your world spins. His comfort is welcomed, something you offer him back with a hand on his thigh.

Bakugo clears his throat. 'Go...'

Your head snaps towards him, eyebrows scrunched. There's a shake in your knees still, one you're not sure will support you if the prince chooses to toss you out of his chambers so soon.

Licking his lips, there's a new softness in Bakugo's tone when he speaks again, shifting in his seat as he does. 'Go clean yourselves up. There's a bath through those doors, the servants should have it warm by now. You're welcome to it and whatever you wish to use in there. Sooth your muscles and return to your own quarters. I'll call for you again tomorrow.'

Kirishima glances at you and shrugs. There will be time to talk about the princes strangeness later, for now, you're not about to turn down a chance for a dip in the royal baths. Scrambling to your feet, Kirishima supports you into a messy curtsey before the prince before you slip out of the room and descend upon a world of luxury.

The door to the baths slams shut behind you, leaving Bakugo alone once again. He shouldn't have let you in there either, people will certainly talk if you're discovered, but the servants are obedient folk and his harsh nature keeps away the other prying eyes efficiently enough.

Springing from his seat, he crosses the room in barely two strides before he's at the bed. He crawls across it, feeling the warmth of your bodies still radiating through the sheets as he goes, imagining what it will feel like to be caught between the scene he witnessed only moments earlier. There's evidence of the act. Dips where you'd been lying, the sheets rumpled and tossed, but the thing that catches his eye is the darkened wet patch clear on the bed.

He doesn't think, he just moves. His chest meets the bed, rosy nipples rubbing against the sheets as his tongue slips from behind his teeth and drags across the wetness. The taste of you bursts across his tongue. A deadly mix of both you and Kirishima ensnares him, causing him to go back for more. He laps at the sheet until his saliva mixes with your essence overpowering your tastes, leaving him wanting.

Collapsing on the bed, Bakugo stares up at the ceiling and listens to the hushed tones and splashes of you in the next room.

Tomorrow. He thinks.

Tomorrow, he'll have you...

Or, at least some of you.

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victorymcsplodey · 1 month

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we need to stop giving attention to people who misuse the x reader tags i stg

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victorymcsplodey · 1 month

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you try roleplay with satoru once and it goes terribly wrong after you tell him (who is supposed to be the stranger you met at the bar) that you’re happily divorced and looking for fun and he makes the most heartbroken face you’ve ever seen and now you have to take back what you said and apologize to him

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victorymcsplodey · 1 month

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♥Sukuna´s dinner time~ 👅 Uncensored on Patreon~

PATREON // COMMISSIONS OPEN~

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victorymcsplodey · 2 months

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Bakugo Katsuki was always insecure about his hands, even if he’d never admit it.

At the start of your relationship, whenever you walked anywhere together, he’d shove his hands deep into his pockets, never giving you any chance to grab his hand.

They’re very rough, they have to be to withstand his Quirk, and he thinks you would hate it. They aren’t comfortable to hold, they might even hurt a little.

Even worse is his overactive sweat glands on his palms. The thought that you might grab his hand and be disgusted by what you felt scared him.

When you asked to hold hands, he told you he didn’t want to, that it was uncomfortable, that he didn’t like any kind of public affection, any excuse to get out of letting you touch his hands.

You always thought it was strange though. After all, he had no problem holding your hand on the way back to the locker rooms after training, even though that was just as public, and surely he would find that uncomfortable too. Sometimes he’d even hold your hand while on dates after coming back from the bathroom.

It took a while for you to realise that he would only hold your hand when he had just cleaned his hands, or if he was wearing thick gloves. When that realisation finally hit you, you figured out why he wouldn’t hold your hands often, even when it seemed clear he wanted to.

After that realisation, you quickly grabbed his hand before he had chance to stuff it into his pocket after class, on the walk back to your dorm building.

He immediately tried to pull his hand away, afraid of your reaction, but you just held on, smiling up at him, acting completely casual. When he realised you weren’t saying anything, he let himself relax a little, but he stays tense.

You talk just like normal on the way back to the dorms, making him relax even more, enjoying having your hand in his, like he’s been wanting since the start.

When he understands that you don’t care about his hands being the way they are, he relaxes completely.

From that day on, he’s constantly got your hand in his.

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victorymcsplodey · 2 months

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

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victorymcsplodey · 2 months

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bullies! kiribaku x reader headcannons <3

headcannons for your azz. fem! reader. soft! yandere, hardcore! fuckers. college! au.

warnings: nsfw, threesome!!, degrading, praise, blackmail, sending pics, possessive, lowkey cnc???

a/n: so i originally had this as a long one shot, but i ended up straying too far away from the actual "bully" trope, so this is just to reel it back & get my thoughts all in one place :) lemme know if i should make this a longer fic !

✩ bullies! kiribaku were notorious around campus; if you came across them, know not to look into their eyes, keep your head down, & do whatever they say. those are the rules when you see the duo wandering around.

★ they were shocked when, while bullying one of the pricks that decided to spread rumors about them, you appeared out of nowhere. you shoved bakugo off of the shaking boy & put your body between them & their victim. "what the hell do you think you're doing!?" you shouted at them. you put on your bravest face & puffed out your chest. they've seen you around before, always silently admiring from afar until now.

✩ their first thought was, "how stupid is this chick?" they were -at least- twice your size & could scoop you up with one hand. then they took you in; you were ethereal, like a guardian angel sent from the pearly heaven above. kirishima looked at bakugo, & bakugo glanced at him. kirishima gave him a fang-filled grin. they were nothing more than demons who were feigning for a chance to taint your sweet charm.

★ bakugo, expressionless, responded, "what does it look like? i'm teaching this little asshole a lesson-" you cut him off with your hands clenched in a white-tight fist, "you're pathetic! picking on someone so much smaller than you, have some fuckin' self-respect." god, you were irresistible, they thought.

✩ kirishima, who is nothing but an instigator, snickered & whispered in the blonde's ear, "i think she's the one we have to teach a lesson to, don't you think?"

★ kirishima turned towards you, his grin would've been unnerving given any other circumstance. his sharp teeth were on full display as he teased, "well aren't you a good samaritan? it makes me wonder how far you'll go to stop us."

✩ "i'll do anything! you people make me sick," you shouted at them, & that's when the realization sunk in. shit... you've made a mistake.

★ the guy you were so-desperately trying to defend was just a coward who ran away without looking back. now you were in the hot seat, & your heartbeat was thumping in your ears. it felt like there was a drum in your head. adrenaline was flowing through your veins. you swallowed the lump in your throat. they were just staring at you with their sharp ruby eyes, piercing straight through your facade. "so what now? gonna beat up a girl 'cuz you have nothing better to do?"

✩ everything after that was a blur. you somehow ended up in their shared dorm, your throat fucked by kirishima & your pussy filled with bakugo. tears streamed down your face as you felt a whiplash of emotions all at once. they were such assholes, but, god, you felt so good. while kirishima sang you praises, bakugo gripped you so tightly, spanking your red-flushed ass. "you like that, huh? dumb slut," bakugo growled. he kept thrusting in & out of your dripping hole harshly. you hummed in disagreement, but it only made kirishima fuck your throat more.

★ "aww, bakubro, be nice to her. she's being so good f' us," purred kirishima, it seemed like he was on your side, but the tight grasp he had on your hair told you otherwise.

✩ by hour two, your pussy was still stuffed, this time with kirishima. a mixture of your climax & both mens' cum seeped out of your overstimulated hole. you sat in kirishima's lap, bouncing yourself on his thick cock reverse-cowgirl style. bakugo flooded your mouth with his cum, & he demanded, "don't fuckin' swallow, got it?"

★ he pulled out of your mouth, & you listened. your obedience didn't go unnoticed because, while bakugo went to go fish his phone out of his pants that were on the hardwood floor, kirishima groaned, "so perfect, you know that, don't you? just such a good girl, takin' us so well. you're too pretty for your own good, we're just gonna keep you to ourselves~ you'll be ours, won't you, sweetheart?" you were lost in foggy pleasure, so you nodded your droopy head.

✩ bakugo came back & held your chin. his touch was gentle for the first time. he guided your face to look up at him with your pretty, teary eyes. his phone camera was pointed at you. "open up, angel," he said, stroking your lip with his thumb. he was so soft spoken that it shocked you & kirishima, you felt obligated to listen. he was so sweet all of a sudden. you opened your mouth, his hot, white load dripping onto his wrist. he snapped a picture then told you to swallow & clean him off.

★ "you got him all pussy-whipped, (y/n). can't really blame him though. you're too good~" that night, an arrangement was made. bakugo's gentleness must've run out because, when you went back to your dorm, you received an image from an unknown number, the caption read, "if you know what's good for you, you'll listen to us."

✩ bullies! kiribaku who are so intimidating that they somehow got you, the campus' fire cracker, to not only turn a blind eye to their antics but also do their bidding. what dirt did they have on you, everyone wondered.

★ whatever you did, their other victims were thankful because bullies! kiribaku have left them alone. instead, they now target any man who thinks they can hit on you. a guy at the club is sauntering towards you? kirishima grabs you by the back of the neck, turning your face towards him & captures your pouty lips in a steamy kiss. a man on instagram starts talking dirty to you through dms? all you have to do is tell bakugo, & he sends them a mirror selfie of him sitting on his bed while you're on your knees in front of him.

✩ at some point, everyone knew that you belonged to bullies! kiribaku, but you were just as bad as them. oh? someone's trying to seduce your bullies? not on your watch. they found it so fuckin' sexy the way you'd immediately rush to their side. if a woman tries to feel bakugo's bulging muscles while he's at the gym, you'll be there, marking his neck & glaring at her. kirishima's fan girls are getting too close? you'll sit on his lap & whisper how much you wanna beat them up.

★ "you're not gonna tell anyone about this, right?" kirishima purred, as if everyone was unaware of your guys' relationship. it added to the fun-- sneaking around & pretending like you have no other choice. you were sucking his cock while your skirt was flipped up, your thong down by your ankles. your legs were spread, & bakugo buried his face in your juicy ass. bakugo responded between pants, "'course not, don't be stupid. we got those cute lil pictures of her, she's not gonna do shit."

✩ bullies! kiribaku who will throw you into the nearest janitor's closet & fuck you so hard. their fingers in your mouth to act as a makeshift gag.

★ bullies! kiribaku who are never hesitant to treat you to whatever you want, but they're always so awkward about it. after all, they're not used to having such a graceful angel by their side.

✩ in the end, bullies! kiribaku corrupted you, not that you cared. you loved their nasty teasing, the manhandling, & the secret touching moments shared between all of you.

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victorymcsplodey · 2 months

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4

Then

“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.

You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.

“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.

On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.

Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”

Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.

You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.

“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.

As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.

You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.

Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.

“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”

Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”

You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”

Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”

You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”

Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.

You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.

“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.

“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.

“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.

Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.

“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.

You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.

You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”

You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.

“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”

Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.

“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

You pretended to think on this.

“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.

Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.

You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.

Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.

“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”

You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”

“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.

You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.

“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”

You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”

Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”

You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”

A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.

“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”

“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.

Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.

These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.

You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.

Now

The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.

Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.

You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.

Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.

“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.

Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.

Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.

You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.

That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.

“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.

“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”

Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”

You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.

“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.

You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.

With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.

You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.

You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.

Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.

“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.

You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”

Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.

“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.

You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”

Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”

Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.

You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”

Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”

You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”

Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.

“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.

A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”

“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.

That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”

You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”

Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”

Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.

“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.

Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”

You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”

It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.

Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.

“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.

“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.

“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”

Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”

“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.

“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.

The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.

The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”

You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”

Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”

Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.

No. That way lay danger.

Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.

“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.

Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.

It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.

“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.

You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.

Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.

You laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.

“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.

Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”

You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.

“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.

You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.

“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”

Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.

The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.

It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.

You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.

Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.

A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.

When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.

When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.

You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.

A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.

“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.

Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”

Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.

“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.

Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”

That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.

“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”

Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.

Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.

When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.

Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.

“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”

The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”

You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.

“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.

An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.

“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”

“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.

Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?

“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.

You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”

Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.

“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.

You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”

The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.

You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”

Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.

“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”

You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”

Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”

Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.

You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”

“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.

You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.

“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”

Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.

“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”

He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.

You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”

Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.

He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.

You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.

Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.

Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.

You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.

You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.

“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”

Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”

You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.

“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”

Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.

It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.

You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.

Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.

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victorymcsplodey · 2 months

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Sukuna sketches

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victorymcsplodey · 2 months

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shoot your shot

k.bakugo | collab intro + m.list

▸ ▸ ▸ warnings: 18+! prohero!bakugo, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, alcohol, dubcon if you really squint

▸ ▸ ▸ wc: idk dude sorry

▸ ▸ ▸ a/n: hbd king! make sure to check out the other writers on the m.list and enjoy!!!

Among the thousands of replies, your pfp caught his eye.

anyone will do, huh?

Bakugo reads over the words a few times. Sure, his alcohol-induced thirst trap selfie was… out of character, but this from you?

Surely, it's an impossibility. He rubs his eyes and falls back into the black, plush leather of his couch, clicking your profile and scrolling through it. You're the quiet girl with the nice tits from insurance, the only person at the agency that he has anything remotely akin to a crush on.

You were there tonight in electric orange and black, stuffed into a booth with the other agency girls; your group sporadically sent him drinks-- those damn daiquiris-- and judging from the laughter pouring out of your booth, you all enjoyed watching him down them.

The one and only Dynamight downing bitch drinks? Hilarious, apparently.

The night got hazy, but he vaguely remembers getting you one-on-one at some point, remembers flashes of your smile, runs of your laughter, and your birthstone pendant hanging on a gold chain just below your collar bone.

Your delicate fingers on his forearm.

His teeth grind together, nostrils flaring as he reads over your words again, fingers flexing before he gropes his bulge. Your voice, seemingly teasing, rings through his brain melodically, but no matter how hard he closes his eyes, he can't remember the interaction.

What did you two talk about? Were you flirting with him? Fuck, did he miss his chance? If he concentrates, he can see the shimmer of your lipgloss reflecting the neon lights in that shitty bar, but everything else is radio silence.

A ding, then a notification flags across the top of his screen: 1 Photo Attached. He taps it and bites his bottom lip.

You're smiling at the camera, winking and throwing up a peace sign in front of expensive looking double doors. Familliar double doors. He recognises the gold embellishments and black glass tinted so dark, its impossible to see through from the outside.

A selfie in front of his apartment building.

Another sound and,

Typing…

Appears in the chat. He feels stupid just waiting, but if you're really coming onto him, he needs to not scare you away.

gonna buzz me up, mr hero?

He's on his feet at an almost embarrassing speed, unlocking the front door and sending you his floor and room number in the chat.

Then, he paces, pours himself a glass of water, and waits.

Your knock is faint, and he wonders if you've sobered up some, briefly hesitating at the doorknob. He looks through his spyhole and sees you looking this way and that, shifting nervously and fiddling with your hair.

He tugs the door open and leans against it, eyes staring you down. You blink and take a short breath, eyes scanning his naked torso, briefs, muscular thighs--

He clears his throat. "You look nervous."

Your eyes on his leave him a little starstruck. Sure, youre pretty to admire from afar, but up close? He's stupid for getting wasted and forgetting what he said to you.

"Liquid courage has thoroughly worn off." You agree with a nod and a nervous yet dazzling smile.

Fuck, he's so done for.

"Just to be clear, you hit me up." Bakugo says, opening the door and giving you space to enter. "I'm not holding you here against your will."

"What? No, yeah, I totally take the blame on this, one million percent." You agree, stepping into his apartment. He watches your ass in that tight dress as you walk past him, savours the scent of your perfumed skin while you're in his vicinity. "I just thought-- oh my gods," you turn to face him, embarrassed. "This is ridiculous, isn't it? I thought you were like... sending me signals at the bar."

He probably was, but he cant fucking remember.

He gestures for you to follow him into the living room. "I was wasted."

"You grabbed my ass and called me sexy." You laugh, kicking off your heels before stepping onto his carpet.

"Fat fuckin chance, sugar tits." He grumbles, embarrassed by his drunken antics, but then you're grabbing his hand and tugging him back half a step. Before he can even gasp, your lips are on his, your hands pulling him down to you, your tongue running along his lips.

"Yeah, you called me that, too." You breathe, nose to nose as you stare into his eyes.

His hands finally find your waist. "I didn't think you'd be this forward."

"This is how forward you were with me at the bar." You frown then, head tilting to the side. "You honestly don't remember? Now I feel like a predator."

He laughs, then, something full bodied and joyous. "Trust me, sweetheart, you're the prey here."

All logical thinking flies out the window the moment his lips meet yours again. Your bag drops to the floor as he devours you, hands bunching up that little orange dress at your waist and lifting you to wrap your legs over his hips.

You moan when he grinds his length up against you. "Oh my god, are we doing this?" You ask, his mouth assaulting your neck, littering it with kisses and nips as he walks you to his bedroom.

"It's my birthday," he rasps, revelling in the taste of you, the feel of you. It's one thing coveting something, but it's another to finally have it in your hands.

"Happy Birthday, Katsuki." You kiss him on the top of his head, wrapping your arms a little tighter around his neck.

"Being cute isn't gonna make me go any easier on you." He promises, dropping you onto his bed. You just laugh and pull your dress over your head, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.

"I came prepared to go down on you, but this kinda feels like you want a little more from me." You admit as he tugs off his briefs and covers you with his body.

"What gave you that idea?" He grins, palming your tits and dragging those battle worn hands down your soft torso to rest at your hips. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"What? Yes." You breathe, reaching down to ghost your fingers over his throbbing cock. He hisses before you grip it properly, with purpose, and begin pumping him slowly with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Fuck," he curses softly, making light work of your panties and kissing you, bucking instinctually up into your hands. "I need to be inside you," he demands huskily, biting down on your lip and looking into your eyes for permission.

"Y-yeah, I want it," you nod feverishly as his fingers test your wet heat, rubbing and probing before sliding in.

"Shit," he huffs as you throw your head back, his fingers exploring you and stretching you out. "Fuck, I can't wait, are you good to go?"

"Stop talking and fuck me, Katsuki," you moan, laying there with your chest heaving and lipstick smudged.

His hands grope your thighs, pushing them up and opening yourself to him. With a curse at the tip of his tongue and his teeth in his bottom lip, he lines himself up and pushes forward.

"Oh--" you moan, before your hand slaps over your mouth.

Bakugo let's you silence yourself while he adjusts to the toe tingling feeling of being inside you. It's heavenly, but it feels like sinning. He pulls back a little before pushing forward, notices your free hand fisting his scarlet sheets beside your head.

After a few more testing thrusts and he stills inside you, his body covers yours, those big, calloused hands drawing up your forearms to interlock your fingers beside your head.

"I wanna hear you cry while I ruin you, pretty girl. You okay with that?" He asks lowly, voice almost a growl.

"Fuck, oh fuck, Katsuki it's so big," you babble, bordering incoherent already.

A feral grin grows on his face. He's gonna fuck you stupid.

"It's okay, baby, you can take it, I know you can," he mumbles condescendingly, kissing your nose gently, then your lips. "As a present, for my birthday."

He can't wait any longer, hips rocking into you, shallowly grinding, searching for that spot deep inside you that makes you moan. You're already gasping, eyes watering as your mouth hangs open, fingers flexing in his grip as your chest starts to heave.

You really are gorgeous like this, panting and wanton beneath him. Ideally, he'd make you cum a few times before he does, but he's been half mast all fucking week, and he really can't wait to fill you up.

"Sorry, baby, I can't hold back anymore." He kisses you deeply, before letting go of your hands and pushing your legs up, hands gripping the backs of your knees, then bruising at your thighs.

He licks his lips, pulls out, and hammers back in. You yelp, but he does it again, setting a pace that wouldn't be sustainable for your average man. It boosts his ego that he's gonna ruin other people for you, but the little breathy ohmygodkatsukifuck that leaves your lips while you scratch at his back is probably going to ruin other women for him.

Shit, your smell, the way you taste and feel-- you're sucking him back in when he tries to pull out, pussy hellbent on milking him before he's done with you. He kisses you while he fucks you, sloppy and messy and wet, and in moments you're a howling mess.

He swallows your cries as your whole body tenses, but he doesn't let himself cum with you, fucking you through it instead.

"Nonononononono..." you mutter, fingernails digging into his traps as you shake your head, pushing him away. "Stop stop, I'm gonna--"

Bakugo's heart flutters, grin feral. "Gonna what? Gonna what?" He grits, continuing to fuck you.

"Gonna-- hnghh!" You tense again, and as he fucks back into you, hot, wet squirt splashes against his groin, dripping all over the both of you and darkening those scarlet sheets maroon.

"Oh shit," he breathes, the feeling of it, the sight of you, the sound of his wet skin slapping against yours sending him over the edge as he fucks his cum into you, filling you up.

You're still mumbling incoherent nonsense when he collapses on top of you, your hands over your face in what he comes to realise is mortification.

"I'm s'sorry, oh my god, what was that? I'm so embarrassed, I--"

"Hey hey hey, are you crying?" He frowns prying your fingers from your face.

"I wet the bed in front of you!" You almost shriek, but he's just glad you're not crying. "Not just any guy, but you!"

"Yeah, and it was the hottest thing ever." He grins, feeling calm for the first time in a long time. "Fuck, I don't even care how the PR team are gonna react; getting you to squirt on me makes it worth it. I'm guessing you don't do that often?"

"Often? I never do that."

"Baby, that was hot as hell." He kisses you, then rolls over, bringing you with him.

"Happy Birthday, I guess?" You smile then, resting on his chest, drawing a finger over one of his more jaggered scars. "You don't remember what you said to me at the bar, do you?"

"I remember your tits?" He shrugs, still riding that post-orgasmic high. You laugh, and when you don't elaborate, he taps your chin so you look up at him. "What did I say?"

You start getting a little shy again. "You asked me on a date, said you were gonna take me somewhere, anywhere I want."

"I did, did I?"

"Mm, then you kissed me and claimed it was your birthday present from me."

"Fuck off," he chuckles then, embarrassed. "What a loser."

"Then I saw your... proposition online..." You mumble, eyes back on that scar.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm deleting that post, but my offer to you still stands."

"Even though you don't remember making it?"

"Baby, I just filled you with my cum, and I'm feeling like I'd like to do it again real fuckin soon. And maybe even again after that." He pulls you closer, so you're straddling him properly, your lips hovering over his. "If you'll let me."

"I don't know if that's your twisted way of asking me out or if you're looking for a fuck buddy." You pout.

"You wanna be my girlfriend?" He asked, slightly shocked at the thought. Shocked, but not against it.

"Yeah, I do." You smile, that so pretty smile.

"Well shit, when are you moving in?" He asks, half joking.

You laugh, kissing him on the cheek. "Shut up, do you mean it? You really wanna date me?"

"Yeah, I do." He says, heart hammering in his chest.

"Good, thats-- that's good."

"It is, isn't it? Now that we have that outta the way," he sits up, keeping you in his lap. "Round 2 in the shower?"

"You'll have to carry me, I still can't feel my legs." You smile.

"Maybe the bitch drinks weren't such a bad idea, after all." Bakugo grins, pulling you close in a slow, deliberate kiss.

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victorymcsplodey · 2 months

Text

One-Shot: Glitter & Glowsticks

Rating: R / 18+ Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader Summary: A lads holiday and a girls holiday collide; you know what that means… sex, it means sex. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, drug use, smoking, smut, oral, fingering, slight somnophilia, copious amounts of use of the word ‘fuck’ and too much talk about cocks. Probably more, let me know.

Notes: Written in celebration of our favourite Boom Boy’s birthday. It hasn’t gone exactly how I originally planned; Reader and Bakugou told me to go fuck myself, then proceeded to do what they wanted to do, so I’m sorry if the smut seems janky, I’m blaming it on them. Also, I haven’t written anything spicy since Sept/Oct; in any case, I hope you have a good time with this fic.

Oh, also, if you fancy some club tunes to set the tone, here you go… SPOTIFY PLAYLIST LINK (I highly recommend listening while reading to get you in the party mood, even though there are way too many tracks to get through before reaching the end). 🤪

Happy Birthday, Katsuki 🥳 x x x

“Did you see?”

“See what?” you asked, holding out a daiquiri, paper straw and little umbrella swirling in the crushed ice.

“The new arrivals,” Mina said, dropping her magazine on the floor to roll onto her back, grabbing at the offering and licking at the straw with her tongue to give it a good suck. “How did you miss ‘em with their pale asses?” she asked after a refreshed sigh.

“I dunno,” you shrugged with a roll of your eyes - that she couldn’t see through the tint of your shades - untying your sarong and settling back in your sunlounger beside the sparkling pool. “Maybe it’s because you use me as your own personal waiter instead of going yourself.”

It was another hot one today, luckily the breeze from the sea a hundred feet away soothed your heated skin, but was prone to burn if you weren’t careful.

“I can’t go when he’s on shift,” she replied. “He’s a clingy one.”

“Let that be a lesson not to fuck the bar staff on your first day.”

“I couldn’t help it. He was too hot to pass up.”

You snorted, grabbing a bottle of sun cream from your bag and squirting a sizable amount in your hand.

“Don’t make that sound. If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be getting the good stuff.”

“Mina,” you groaned, rubbing your legs. “We’re here all inclusive. But you would have remembered that if you bothered to go to the bar yourself.”

“Oh, hush. You’ve side tracked me.”

She could blame you all she wanted, but she had a knack for going off road even without your help. “Go on then, which of them’s caught your eye?”

Her dreamy sigh, and the way she fanned her face with her hand, told you that you were on the right track in thinking she had a new conquest in her sights, and he didn’t know yet that he was about to have his world rocked. And that meant you’d have to find your own if she planned on using your shared room again.

It was so embarrassing listening to your friend being fucked in the bed right next to yours.

Mina wasn’t a shy one, she was always telling you about her dalliances, and she never left anything out, and you meant anything. You knew more about her partners’ dicks than you ever cared to know, and it was a trial having to look them in the eye when you were back home.

But here, on your holidays, you heard fucking everything, saw everything - because those thin sheets didn’t hide very much - and you didn’t want to go through that awkward moment in the morning when you awoke to find them going at it again for the third or fourth time, or they were passed out with all their naughty bits on display.

What was even worse, was to find her flavour of the night had pissed all over the toilet seat when you tried to discreetly slip away into the bathroom.

No, that wasn’t going to happen tonight. Whoever she’d set her sights on, you desperately hoped he had a friend, an attractive friend, who wasn’t a complete fucking dickhead like the last guy you’d had.

Now that was a memory you didn’t want to repeat.

“There’s a few of them,” she said, sipping her drink.

Pausing in your hourly skincare routine, you glanced at her in question, “You planning an orgy?”

“Only if my best girl’s there,” she grinned, leaning over to slap lightly at your sticky thigh.

“Don’t lie,” you laughed in reply, flicking a towel at her. “You’d hoard all the cock if you could.”

“I’d save one for you,” she gasped with a hand on her heart, affronted by your accusation.

You didn’t believe her. “Yeah, whatever.” She was a greedy bitch when she wanted to be.

“No, because there’s this group, right? Four of ‘em. We could have two each,” she goaded with a wag of her shapely eyebrows. “I’ll even let you have the one with the biggest dick.”

“How very generous of you.”

She sniffed, “I am, if I do say so myself.”

“You do,” you sarcastically replied, ignoring her ego to work on your shoulders.

“Come on, there’s a couple of blonds who look absolutely delish, and we both know how much you like those.” Her eyebrows lifted again, and her tongue peeled out around her straw like she was trying to seduce you with her idea.

Now that sounded very tempting. But you cut your eyes at her - again, she couldn’t see. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

There was always a catch, and if by the way you could see her eyes turn away from you through the gap in the side of her shades, you knew exactly what it was.

One of them was a dickhead.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“Come on, Bakubro, we’re wasting daylight here.”

Fuck Kaminari, he might be able to live out his suitcase, but he’d be damned if he did; he wasn’t forking out the money for laundry services to get his shirts ironed.

Replacing the hanger back in the wardrobe with a button down draped over it, he turned to a person he unfortunately had to call his friend, to find him lounging on his bed with his fucking shoes on. Fuck Eijirou for pushing him into his path.

“Off,” he growled, clipping him round the ear. “Where’s Lurch?”

“Ow- He’s out scoring some gear.”

“Already?” asked Ei, fixing his hair through the vanity. Waste of fuckin’ time if you asked Katsuki, he was usually the first in the pool. “Did he even stay long enough to check out his room?”

“Nah, just dropped his stuff off, then dipped,” he replied, opening up the balcony door to let in the noise from down by the pool, an upbeat EDM track blasting out a repetitive rhythm, laughter and chatter trying to compete, and the sounds of splashing water tying it all together. “Man, your view is way better than ours.”

“So he’s fucked off and left you with us.” Typical Sero; more interested in hunting down the local illegal pharmaceutical dealer than the pussy that’s waiting for his stoner dick.

“You say that like he’s my deadbeat dad and left me with the neighbours.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow as if to goad him into refuting his own statement. Fuck Face didn’t rise to the challenge.

Fucking wimp.

He sighed instead. “Can you two just hurry up, I didn’t fork out nearly half a grand to watch you preen.”

Ei straightened, whipping a beach towel over his shoulder. “You came because it’s Kat’s birthday.”

Kaminari laughed at him like what he’d said was a joke, and Katsuki had to agree with his amusement with a raise of his eyebrows in shocked disbelief toward the redhead before the other blond even replied.

“Dude, I came for the pussy.”

Of course he did, Katsuki’s birthday was just the reason he needed to drag everyone else along with him to the party island so he didn’t look like some loner perving over the abundance of tits and ass on display.

“Like her,” he added, beckoning them to take a look over the balcony.

He was pointing at a pink haired beauty flicking through a magazine, teasingly licking at the tip of a finger to flick through its pages, fat ass upturned and covered by a scrap of purple, cheetah print bottoms.

“Who wants to bet I can get her hanging off my dick before the end of the night?”

Good eye, Katsuki thought, but his attention was diverted by the bombshell that was approaching, those flimsy pieces of cloth females like to wear hanging dangerously low on swaying hips, a frilly top covering breasts that even he could see from two floors up were perky, and two glasses of drinks in hand with brightly coloured umbrellas poking from the top.

Now that was a sight for sore eyes.

“I don’t think you should be counting your chickens so soon,” Ei warned. “That one looks feisty.”

“Perfect,” he grinned, not in the least bit put off by the implication.

Retreating back into the room, Katsuki threw on a fresh shirt and swapped his jeans for a pair of black and orange swim shorts. “Then go and get her, before the fuckin’ bean stalk gets back and has her deep-throating him instead.”

“You sayin’ Hanta’s got better game than me?” Kaminari asked, shutting the door and muting the racket outside.

This time it was Ei’s turn to find amusement in this stupid conversation. “He gets more pussy than all of us combined.”

Katsuki resented that. At least he didn’t have to entice women with fucking party drugs to get in their knickers. But he couldn’t deny that the lanky streak of piss had a way with the opposite sex. Motherfucker was so laid back and smooth, ladies were dropping to their knees with hardly any effort at all on his part.

The others did too to a degree. Kaminari’s doofus persona seemed to attract them just fine; he was like a bouncing little puppy and they would coo and fussy over him, saying how cute he was even as he tried to hump their leg like a dirty old dog.

And the same could be said for Eijirou, though he didn’t come across even half as clingy like his friend. Katsuki had an inkling that it was to do with how fucking nice he was, eager to please rather than to be pleased. Ei didn’t pick up women, they picked up him. It didn’t hurt the fact that he was so fucking big too. He’d heard females titter over the redhead and whether everything was in proportion to his large, broad frame. Most of them were horrified when they found out he was.

The guy’s cock could be used as a fucking baseball bat.

Too bad he couldn’t hold his drink long enough to use it most of the time.

“Well come on then,” Kaminari urged, already half-cocked and ready to shoot, ”before Hanta does come back and we end up with the ‘fives’ and ‘sixes’.”

Tossing a bottle of sun screen in the bag at the end of his bed, Katsuki bit out at the blond, “You’ll be lucky to even get that with how fuckin’ desperate you’re actin’.”

Ei agreed, slipping on his flip flops and snatching a bottle of water from the mini-bar, “Don’t wanna blow all your load on the first day.”

While grabbing at his crotch, Fuck Face retorted, “I got plenty stored up.”

Katsuki wrinkled his nose in disgust, throwing his rucksack over his shoulder and heading for the door. “You should rub one out before you drown your unfortunate victim. Let’s go, I haven’t eaten since we got off the plane.”

“What about the lovelies by the pool?” he whined.

“Keep your dick in check otherwise I’ll twat you.”

“Yeah,” Ei seconded, wrapping a big arm around the blond’s neck and dragging him along the hallway despite his protests. “You’ve got a fortnight of fucking ahead of you; need to keep that strength up, Casanova.”

A slap to your arm startled you from your boredom of waiting for almost an hour in the unbelievably long queue, not even the muted thump of the music filtering out of the front doors or the excited chatter around you could keep your spirits up when your heels were already killing you.

“Wha-”

“They’re here,” she replied.

She didn’t need to clarify, she’d been talking about ‘them’ nonstop all day.

Swivelling around, you turned to see over the abundance of already half-drunk partygoers to see a group of four attractive males outside the dividing rope’s line.

Red spiky hair, and a red shirt that looked a little snug around the chest area were what nabbed your attention first. Then you saw the expanse of muscles peeking through the open collar, and your breath froze in your throat.

“Holy fucking shit!” you whispered, as your eyes that were already dilated in the darkness became impossibly larger, and continued to devour the slab of gorgeous meat that rolled up like a dessert cart.

“Fucking told you!”

You ignored her smugness in favour of letting your reluctant gaze slide to the guys trailing behind, thighs squeezing together when a wave of arousal flooded your fresh underwear.

Blonds.

Your kryptonite.

You licked your lips at the cheeky grin the shorter one was sporting.

He looked like fun; floppy hair that you were sure was styled like that to get people to pay attention and have them want to run their fingers through it. He was a little skinny for your tastes, yet his lean frame covered by a bright t-shirt and three quarter-length trousers that showed off pale legs with a dusting of fair hairs was just enough to get you salivating.

Yes, he was just what the doctor ordered, more so than the one who was scowling like it was Monday morning and had to be in work within the next ten minutes, rather than on his holidays and could do whatever he wanted for however long he had time off.

He was still attractive though you realised, when he pushed at his friend’s laughter and saw the glow of his crimson eyes beneath the lights of the club. A black button-down shirt pulled across washboard abs that could rival the redhead’s with how much the buttons were straining, and a waist that had no competition.

Shame you could immediately tell this was the one Mina had been alluding to being the prick of the group.

“I’m not fuckin’ waiting in that!” he was saying.

“C’mon, Kacchan, an hour tops. I’m begging you.”

“Fuck no, let’s just go to a bar.”

Their argument continued, creating an audience of intrigued onlookers, until your staring was interrupted by the tall black haired guy of the group.

He wasn’t bad on the eyes either, even though he looked less put together with rumpled clothing that looked like he’d slept in them. But somehow he made it work; the lazy slacker ensemble suited him well.

“Ladies,” he nodded. “How’s it going?”

His words bolstered Mina into action, pushing out her chest to shift you out the way and asking if everything was okay.

He took a drag of his cigarette, and after blowing a stream of sickly, sweet smelling smoke from the side of his mouth, you could immediately tell it wasn’t tobacco.

“Nothing to worry yourselves over,” he replied.

“You sure about that?” you asked, leaning over the rope. “Your friend looks like he’s about to blow a gasket.”

He shook his head, “It’s just that it's my friend's birthday, you see, and he’s not exactly the patient type.”

“Oh well, we can fix that, can’t we?” Mina simpered, and nudged you to indicate you were a part of that ‘we’.

You looked at her in confusion. What the fuck was she up to?

“What are you doing?” you said into her ear.

“Trust me,” she whispered back, before turning to the guy. “You can cut in here, if you like.”

“You don’t mind?”

You did, but Mina shook her head.

“That’s real sweet of you, doll,” he grinned. You could practically feel Mina melt next to you upon hearing the nickname, and you knew you’d been played. “Your first round’s on me,” he winked. ”Hey, you lot! Ei, Denk, Old Man! Get your asses over here!”

“Who the fuck you calling old?!”

With a bit of shuffling and furious complaints from the patrons behind, the four of them managed to squeeze in beside you.

The chipper blond looked ecstatic, the redhead was polite in his thanks as he cocked a leg over the rope, and the last of their quartet still had a face on as they each introduced themselves.

But it was when you looked up at him, his features finally relaxed, and an easy curl at the corner of his lips cleared the cloud of annoyance from his eyes.

You knew that look, you’d seen it a hundred times over the last dozen nights.

It was confidence, assurance, a cocksure shift in attitude that made whoever wore it believe that whatever that wanted, they were going to get.

And when he said, “Well my night is starting to look up,” you knew exactly what he was referring to. But you weren’t as easy to please like Mina was, who was already hanging off Hanta’s arm, plucking the roll up from his offering fingers and talking at length with the other blond. No, you were going to make him work for it. Even if it was his birthday.

The cocky prick.

You started by turning to the redhead, Eijirou. “So, you just arrived today?”

His smile was kind of shy. Cute. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Sticking out your arm, you pressed it against the exposed skin of his own, feeling his warmth to display the obvious difference in tone, even if your natural colour was lighter or darker than his.

The laugh he let out was infectious, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with him, until there was a huff behind you.

Good.

Slowly, the queue began to shift as you moved up the line, filling the time in between with the obligatory getting to know you conversation that most likely would have all the details forgotten come morning.

Eijirou was a nice guy, everything that came out of his mouth was respectful, but his eyes told a different story. You could feel them burning a hole through your dress, especially when he let you go in front of him, and you were sure he only did that so he didn’t have to avert his gaze when you caught him staring surreptitiously at your ass.

Hanta was so laid back, he may as well be lying down, and with that thought you couldn’t help but conjure some very satisfying lazy sex in your mind. You imagined he was at his best on a Sunday, no work or obligations to intrude on a pleasant morning spent in bed.

Denki, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He was a live-wire, the centre of attention if he didn’t have Mina there to share it with, and most likely very fun in the bedroom - or out of it. Laughing and joking, and very blatantly flirting when he wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about him and friends.

Now the birthday boy; he was a different story. He contributed practically nothing, yet he was a constant presence at your back as you slowly shuffled forward. Unlike Eijirou, he wasn’t afraid to stare, and he didn’t have that sense of wonder-lust like his friend did when his eyes travelled to places most people would find disrespectful in polite company. No, his eyes lingered on all the naughty parts without shame, a hunger in their depth telling you that as soon as that hard to get facade slipped just a fraction he was going to pounce, and feast on the meal you were so adamant on denying him.

He was very obviously annoyed at first with your ignorance of him, eyes narrowed in irritation as he grumbled and huffed in the background, hands stuffed in the pockets of his linen shorts. However, as soon as you’d shown your hand by taking a peek at his reaction when you, not so subtly, let your breasts brush up against the redhead’s bicep, you knew you’d been rumbled.

That smirk of his made an appearance again, and his eyes darkened under the club’s lights.

The game had begun.

Once you were through the door, ID verified and your entrance fees were paid, at his suggestion that the pretty ladies always get served first, Mina went with Hanta to get the drinks, and Eijirou offered to carry them; his frame bulky enough to get through the crush of dancers without spilling too much.

That left you with the blonds, and Denki was quick to ingratiate himself with you after spending most of his time working on Mina so far. You supposed it was kind of smart on his part if, your friend ended up in one of his friend’s beds instead.

Inside there wasn’t much chance to converse with the loud, thumping bass of the music creating its own heartbeat throughout your body, so he took the opportunity to guide you along to one of the standing tables around the edge of the dancefloor and near the outdoor area where it was easier to hear.

Unexpectedly, you felt his hand on the small of your back, and a tingle shot up your spine.

“Be honest with me,” he partially shouted, something you would all have to do to be heard. You nodded; you could do that. “What’re my chances with your friend?”

Of course. It made you want to roll your eyes at playing wing-woman yet again.

You stepped away, and he hand fell to his side. “That depends,” you said seriously, resting your elbows on the table to fiddle with a coaster.

“On?” he asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“How much are you willing to pay me to put in a good word for you.”

The birthday boy scoffed at that, and you looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

“If your goal is to shake him down, you’re shit out of luck.”

“Okay,” you said, catching on quickly, and turned back to Denki. “Then how big is your dick?”

You very obviously let your eyes fall to his crotch, and you saw him fidget slightly, making you grin.

Birthday Boy laughed, “Compared to his wallet? Fuckin’ huge.”

“Dude! I’m trying to make a good impression here and you’re ruining it.”

“Don’t need me for that, shit for brains.”

Your eyes swung back and forth between the pair as they argued, finding amusement in the way they easily took the piss out of one another.

“At least I lost my virginity first.”

“The one thing you can hold over me, prick. But at least I didn’t lose it to the old bint who used to be our lunch lady.”

“What! She had a great pair of tits on her; nearly suffocated me with ‘em.”

“Alright, alright!” you interjected with an amused smile.

Birthday Boy huffed and Denki looked back at you as if he’d forgotten you were there to witness this little tiff.

“I was just messin’.”

“Does that mean I’m in?” he asked with a bit of scepticism.

“You're in,” you nodded.

He sighed in relief; a beaming smile lighting up his face.

“Unless…” You paused to watch his face drop, and enjoy him squirm for a second, “you do have the biggest dick. Because Mina promised me I would get it tonight, didn’t you, babe?”

“Sure did,” she said, placing your drink before you on the table, and kissing you on the cheek as you took a sip, your eyes lighting up.

Clubs were notorious for overcharging compared to the smaller bars on the marina, so you had to commend her on getting Hanta to pay for a triple.

“What’s this about dicks now?” he asked, already pulling out a little tin and a pack of rolling papers from his pockets.

“Fascinating subject,” Mina continued. “I’ve always wondered if you guys compare by getting the measuring tape out for a more accurate reading, drop trou and eyeball it, or do you just press them up against each other?”

Denki choked on his own tongue, Birthday Boy froze with his lips pursed to take a swig of his beer, and Hanta laughed.

“Well, which one is it? Because if Red’s face is anything to go by,” she said, nodding at Eijirou’s blush with a salacious smirk, ”he’s done at least one of those things.”

Denki asked one of his own questions, “I’ll answer if you tell me how you compare tit size.”

“That’s easy,” she said, and demonstrated by placing her drink on the table to grab one of her breasts, and reaching out to cup one of yours, pushing up until they were nearly spilling out of your dresses.

Four sets of eyes took in the scene and you laughed.

“So?” she prodded.

There was no answer.

“I think you’ve broken them, Mina.”

She huffed in annoyance. “Will someone at least ask me to dance then? I swear you're all useless, or do me and my friend here have to show you lads how to do that too?”

“I’m down for seeing that,” Hanta smirked, licking at the thin paper.

Denki eventually pulled himself out of his stupor, and she dragged him through the throng to leave you to look after the drinks.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Hanta informed those who were left, slotting his spliff behind his ear and striking his lighter with a tiny scratch of sparks.

Just as he was going to leave, he leant into Birthday Boy like some sort of manly hug and whispered in his ear, dropping something in his hand, then patted Eijirou on the back before he disappeared through the door.

You felt the redhead's eyes on you, saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, then he blurted out, “I think I need some air,” and followed his taller friend outside.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked the last remaining member.

Birthday Boy shook his head. “He’s trying to hide the hard-on you gave him.”

“Are you joking, or did you wanna continue the subject?”

His nose wrinkled cutely. “I do not want to talk about his cock, or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“Okay,” you smiled, taking another sip of your drink. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

His eyes swept along your body, and the inkling you had on what that meant turned out to be completely wrong. You thought he’d say something crude, like ‘pussy’, but instead he replied with, “I’d rather not talk.”

His eyes alighted on yours, and you understood perfectly, shivering at how low his voice had dipped, dripping with husk and rumbling with gravel.

Fuck messing with him, he was the only one who’d stayed by your side since they’d jumped the queue, and you felt that deserved a little reward.

But you’d paid so much money to get in the place, you couldn’t let it go to waste.

Downing your drink, and Mina’s too - she could get someone to buy her another - you latched on to the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to your level, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Then let’s not,” you said more quietly, licking your lips as you stared at his own.

His pupils blew open, the red of his irises bright rings in the flashing darkness.

He was so close you could feel the heat he radiated like a furnace, and the rumble in his chest, more so than the continuous music that was playing in the foreground. It was a sound of aggravation, you were sure, when you didn’t close the gap fast enough.

Yet when you did, it wasn’t to kiss him, it was to brush your lips against his cheek as you made a light trail towards the shell of his ear.

“I love this song. Dance with me.”

When you pulled back to gauge his reaction with a cock of your head, smoothing your hands down his chest and admiring the defining ripples you could make out beneath your fingertips, you found him eyeing you with the same tilt.

“Why don’t we make this a little more interesting.”

“What d’you have in mind?”

He held up a hand, a little see through bag dangling from between two fingers.

Ohhh, okay…

Your eyes sparkled beneath the lights.

And Katsuki was having a hard time trying to reign in the raging erection that had been threatening to burst since he saw you, and he was ready to say ‘fuck it’, and just drag you to an empty corner and rail you where anyone could see.

For hours, you danced, and drank, and danced some more. You even partook in some recreational drug use when you stepped outside to take a breather, and Soy Face was more than happy to share.

The bastard.

After that first initial meeting outside the club he was sure you were going to make this hard for him, looking stunning in your tiny dress, with breasts that should be resting in the palms of his hands and legs that should be wrapped around this hips; especially when you were so blatantly flirting with Shitty Hair while you were waiting in that God-fucked line. And he was positive your friend was in on it too with all that talk about cocks and that show of grabbing at your tits.

He could have not taken the bait and found someone else easily enough with all the scantily clad people about, but Katsuki was a winner when a challenge was put to him.

When he’d offered you one of the little white pills Sero had gifted him with, he had expected you to finally put this little pretence aside and shove your tongue down his throat to take it from him. Instead you’d plucked it from the tip of his own tongue with manicured nails and popped it in your mouth with a cheeky grin.

So imagine his surprise when you finally dropped - rather quickly if he was being honest, he was sure you’d hold out for at least another hour - your little game of pushing all his buttons and get him to make a move.

Instead you made it rather clear that you’d chosen him, letting the drugs and the music take hold and finally - finally - pulling him into a heated kiss once you were on the dance floor.

He fucking hated clubs, would rather had gone to a bar, but here he was, and so was you.

So he fucking stayed.

You’d danced with the others too, and he’d taken that time to retreat back to the table or get more drinks from the bar, but he didn’t let his eyes stray for more than a couple of seconds when you ended up in the arms of one of his friends. He watched them like a hawk at the same time as admiring the sway of your hips as you raised your arms in the air and threw back your head to laugh exuberantly, or belt out the words to the song the DJ was currently playing as the hair around your face, and at the nape of your neck, began to stick to sweaty skin.

Dumb Fuck was too busy wrapped up with trying to sneak his hand up your pink-haired friend’s dress for Katsuki to be worried about him.

But Sero, the wanker, was the worst, playing your game of making him jealous - even though you had obviously given up on it - by giving him smug smirks as he just stood there, letting you do all the work as you ground your ass against his stationary form.

The bastard of a cunt knew of his interest in you when he’d mentioned the pretty girl he’d seen, describing you perfectly, lounging by the pool when they’d met up for food earlier, and Sero enjoyed nothing more than pissing him off when he wasn’t making a hotbox out of a room.

And Eijirou wasn’t too far behind in hitting Katsuki’s patience quota for the day either. Once’s Sero had fucked off back outside, the redhead was quick to pull you into yet another dance as a air horn blew and the room filled with smoke, glitter bursting from the ceiling like fireworks and raining down like magic sparkles from a wand.

That shit would be in his fucking hair for days. Just another reason for him to hate places like this.

He hadn’t been lying when he told you you’d given Ei a stiffy. He wasn’t the picky type, and, given half the chance, you could be finding yourself under him instead.

This getaway was for his fucking birthday, and he had first fucking pick, damn it! If Ei was lucky, he would be willing to share, but Katsuki was getting between your legs first.

When he’d finally had enough at watching you enjoy yourself without him, he was at your back again, and he didn’t even mind that you were rubbing more glitter over him when you brazenly slid your hand behind you to grope at his junk, or that Pinky was rubbing up against your front; or that there were half a dozen other people crushing you tighter against him, and Ei, the bastard, was blowing a fucking whistle down his ear, deafening him. He just wrapped a palm around your throat to tilt your head back to see those, dilated eyes and cheekbones dusted with a rainbow of colours.

Your arms came up to tug at his damp hair, and he groaned at the inevitability that things would only get better when you mouth landed on his. He didn’t know if it was the drugs, or just you, but everything felt like it was brought into sharp focus. The lights were pulsing, the glowsticks around your wrists were brighter, the music louder, and that rush of adrenaline cascading through his bloodstream set his nerves on fire. He wondered if this was how people felt when they saw colour television for the first time, or experienced surround sound.

Kissing you was like its own type of illegal substance, soft, puffy lips pulling at his own, tongue sliding against the ridges on the roof of his mouth, the residual taste of weed intermingling with the taste of beer and your drink of choice as you sucked. It was a heady feeling, and he needed to get you out.

Right fucking now.

“Tell her you're leaving,” he shouted over the noise.

You blinked up at him in confusion and he growled.

He had no time for coyness.

Getting her attention away from Kaminari, Katsuki removed Pinky’s arm from around his neck.

She was a quicker study than you, and immediately got the hint when his head nodded somewhere towards the door and saw your hand in his.

She leaned back into you and he could hear her shout for you to enjoy yourself, before turning back to Kaminari to drape herself over him as he gave Katsuki a lewd gesture by waving a fist next to his face, and poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek.

It was a shock to the system, when he finally managed to get you out of the oppressive club, and guided you past the line of people still waiting to get in; holding you up on wobble heels and blinking away the taint of smoke from his eyes.

And it was even harder for him to find someplace suitable to push you up against without getting arrested and thrown into a foreign jail, not when you eventually clicked on to his intentions and attempted to climb to him so you could mouth and licking at his neck.

In the end he pulled you into a dark alley, not the most ideal location, but it would do to take the edge off before he could get you back to the hotel.

His mouth was back on yours, frantic, all lips and tongue and teeth, and your hands were already working on the button of his shorts without him even having to prompt you.

You both knew where this was heading.

But he had a different starting point in mind.

Stopping your fumbling fingers, he trailed kisses down your neck as his hands bunched up your dress around your waist, while yours threaded through his hair, fingertips gliding over lace panties and fingering at the tied bows at the sides, when you scratched at his scalp to make him groan.

He didn’t know how long you had left in the country, but he was going to make the most of whatever time he had with you.

Dropping to his knees, he didn’t waste a second to hitch a thigh over his shoulder, a stubby heel poking into his back, and enjoyed the breathy gasp you let out when he pushed your panties to the side and let your pretty pussy breath for a moment in the balmy night air.

Looking up he saw you blinking rapidly, trying to find focus under the film of drugs, alcohol and lust.

Then he dove in, and your moans were instantaneous - better than the music he could still hear from a few blocks away - when his wet tongue met an already dripping hole.

“Fuck!” he groaned against your cunt. “You been thinking about this as much as me?”

You didn’t need to answer, your mewl and the flood of arousal that met his tongue told him what he already knew.

He licked and licked, and licked, drinking up your taste, until those nails of yours found his hair again and tugged harshly, forcing him to peer up at your flushed face.

“Stop fucking teasing me and suck, dickhead,” you admonished.

“Dickhead?”

“Yeah,” you sniffed, and he knew you were trying to keep your composure in check despite the circumstance. It made him want to ruin you. “It’s what I’m gonna call you when your not doing what you’re suppos’ta.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “What’s my name when I am?”

“Birthday Boy; now eat your cake before I offer it up to someone else.”

The grip he had on your hips tightened at the threat, cutting his eyes at you. “That ain’t fuckin’ happening, you prissy little bitch.”

Your laugh had your tits pushing out far enough he couldn’t see your face for a moment.

Oh, he was liking this.

Most people would melt into a puddle once they knew what was going down, but you were something else. Even drunk as a fucking skunk and high off your tits.

“That your name for me?” you asked with that lilt of your head you were always sending his way; assessing, goading.

“Be a good girl, and maybe the Birthday Boy will call you something pretty,” he replied with a soft blow of cool air against your cunt and a teasing stroke with a fingertip along the seam.

“Tell me later,” you moaned. “Now dig in, Dickhead.”

His growl was muffled when you pushed him back to you, nose bumping against your clit and filling with your musk.

So you were a feisty one.

Okay, he could work with that.

He liked that.

And his dick did too, with the way it twitched within the confines of his shorts.

Ordinarily he would have gone slow to start, but hey, it was obvious that you weren’t going to have any of that, not with the threat of you giving it away to someone else hanging over his head.

An image of String Bean flickered in his drug-addled mind, and that was all the motivation he needed to be more aggressive, pulling at your inner lips with nips of his teeth to make you hiss and curl your fingers more tightly in his spikes.

He still teased you though, purposely avoiding the place where he knew you wanted his mouth the most, and instead slipped a finger between your slick folds and pulled back slightly to watch your reaction.

Your eyes rolled back and your hips jerked forward, and yet you still managed to bite out, “Dickhead,” when he pressed against the bumpy spot he was on the lookout for.

He grinned in satisfaction. “Bitch.”

You huffed, still able to laugh through your moans when his finger began to move, and a second was added, stretching and curling against fluttering walls, his hand very quickly becoming coated in your juices.

And when he felt like he’d toyed with enough, your breathing becoming more irregular and harder to manage with each pant, he finally let you have what you wanted.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucked.

He sucked hard.

And you came.

A flood that dribbled down past his chin, to his palm to his wrist; rivulets of clear liquid seeping down his forearm to nearly meet the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.

An accompanying scream you tried to muffle around a bite to your hand, the heel in his back digging in hard enough that he wouldn’t be surprised if it broke skin, and the way the leg you stood upon shook, had him smiling smugly against your still twitching clit and quaking insides.

Fuck, it was going to be fucking amazing when he could get his cock in there next.

Speaking of which, it was still hard when he righted your underwear and dress, and was back on his feet to hold you up when you looked like you could no longer stand yourself.

“Name?”

“Good job…” you breathed through slowing breaths, clutching at his shoulders for support. “Birthday Boy.”

He knew he was good, never had a complaint, however, he couldn’t stop the swell of pride that burst in his chest to hear you say that.

“Not so bad yourself…” He took your lips in a slow, deep kiss, sharing in the taste, mimicking his earlier ministrations, tipping your face up with a finger under your chin, and watching your eyes become searching as he held back for a fraction before finally finishing with, “Gorgeous.”

Katsuki knew immediately that you didn’t like it by the way your features scrunched in displeasure and his finger slipped.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s hideous,” you said, detangling yourself from his arms, and pushing him away. “Think of something else.”

Were you fucking messing with him right now? “That is the exact opposite of what it means,” he snapped, wiping his mouth in frustration and following your retreating figure as you fixed your hair and dress, and him trying to adjust the erection that was still hanging heavy under his shorts.

“You said it’d be something pretty,” you replied.

“How is that not?”

Fucking girls, with their vague, cryptic fucking bullshit. He wished your lot would just spit it all the fuck out, or swallow the fucking consequences.

He never had these sorts of problems with guys.

“It’s the type of name you give to any Mary, Sue, or Fanny. I want something special.”

You were a real piece of fucking work, weren’t you? Even after he’d just had his face buried in your cunt, and made you climax a torrent of cum not two fucking minutes ago. Not to mention he’d spent most of his day travelling; from a cramped, tin can of an aeroplane to a stuffy coach without any air conditioning.

He was fucking tired, even with the added pick me up, and he’d still found the energy to get you off.

He’d been right. You were a fucking bitch.

And he wasn’t drunk or high enough to deal with this shit, so he didn’t know why he continued to put in the effort.

He hadn’t even got a blowie in return.

“Fine,” he bit out, stepping in line with you and walking through a busy street lined with packed bars. “What the fuck do you want me to call you then?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hooked an arm through his for stability, while simultaneously wagging a finger at him, your eyes crossing at the motion with a distinct lack of sobriety that made Katsuki think that you were not only a hot bitch, but a cute one too. “I’m not doing your job for you.”

He snorted in amusement as he tried to steer you away from bumping into equally intoxicated passers-by.

His mom would fucking love you, that was for sure.

Just as the noise of the parties he’d left behind became nothing more than a distant hum and his buzz was beginning to wear off, the sounds and the salty scent of the sea had you sighing in contentment beside him, leaning into his side.

“You know, I’ve never had sex on the beach before.”

“Are you asking for a drink, or hinting at me to fuck you?”

“Both,” you confessed, looking at him all sultry like, thick black eyelashes, littered with flecks of shimmering glitter, framing large, wide eyes.

“I can only do one of those things right now, Princess.”

Your serene smile twitched as you attempted to bend down to untie the straps of your shoes, looking at him through hair that had escaped its style. “Close, but not quite right, Birthday Boy. Keep working on it.”

“What-the fuck-ever. Com’ere, you’re gonna break your fuckin’ face doing that.”

You squealed when he lifted you up and dropped you on the low seawall separating the sand from the desolate road.

“You have a dirty mouth, but you can be nice when you wanna,” you observed, as he squatted down and began fiddling with the tiny, thin straps.

“I didn’t hear you complaining earlier, and I don’t think you're in any position to judge,” he retorted, finally getting one foot free and grasping the ankle of the second.

“Want me to call you the D word again? Because I will,” you said, squirming from atop your perch.

Again with the threats. He’d planned on getting his dick wet tonight, not speak to you more than he had when you were inside the club. It was supposed to be easier to get laid on holiday, but he found that he was working twice as fucking hard as he would back home.

Princess fucking suited you; a demanding, stuck up bitch of a Princess.

“If you don’t keep fuckin’ still, I’ll bring out the G word.”

The other shoe landed on the floor when you kicked out at him, and he had to be quick to stop you from toppling backwards.

“Fucks sake. You hate it that much it’s worth a kick in the bollocks?”

“Uhh, hmmm, Dick-”

“Oi, all this dick talk makes me think you haven’t gotten any since you came here, or do you want me to shove mine down your throat to get you to shut up about it. How ‘bout that?”

“I haven’t,” you admitted with a shrug, kicking your legs, and he turned away from you slightly in case a stray foot assaulted his jewels again. “Not any that were worth a postcard home anyway. You gonna change that for me?”

He raised a brow at your teasing smile and searching eyes. That’s what he’d been trying to do all night.

You slid down onto your feet, brushing against his… well, dick, and he had to bite back a groan at the friction when it brought it back to life.

“Oh wow, you’re tall!” you goggled, swaying backwards, and he had to grab your arm to stop you from cracking your head on the wall.

You were only just noticing that? Even in those crippling heels, you barely reached his chin.

“Are you finally gonna stop talkin’ and let me get the fuck on with it?”

Comically, you swiped a line along your lips to zip them sealed and nodded.

He looked over your shoulder to the reflection of the moon twinkling in the sea, waves crashing along the shoreline. There weren’t many people around; he could make this work.

“Right then,” he said, snatching up your heels before effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder.

You screamed. “What are you doing?”

“You wanna get fucked on the beach, so I’m gonna fuck you on the beach.”

When his hand landed on your backside, you laughed in delight.

He was going to have sand stuck in his ass crack for the next two days along with all the fucking glitter, but it would be worth it to hear that again.

Walking on sand was fucking hard when carrying another person, so Katsuki stumbled some as he bought you closer to the tide, making you giggle and shriek some more when you slipped in his hold and he bought you down so you could wrap your legs around his waist, and you distracted him by kissing at his neck again.

This time he did fall, landing in the soft, dry, sand, bracing himself over you before he could crush you and end the night in the local A&E.

“Fuckin’ menace.”

“I like that one,” you smiled, hair fanning around your head like a halo, or a beached mermaid. “But still not pretty like you promised.”

You didn’t need a pretty name, you fucking looked it.

He shut you up by covering your mouth with his, and plugged the hole with a deep lick of his tongue.

You moaned, and rubbed against him, ankles locked behind his back and hips thrust up to create some friction.

Now he was getting somewhere.

With one hand skimming down your exposed thigh, the other took purchase under your neck, tilting it back even more so he could watch your eyes flicker beneath their trembling lids.

Fingertips curled around his shoulders, and smoothed down his back when he left a trail of opened mouthed kisses over your jaw line and down to your neck; sucking gently until he felt you relax, bones going lax, and a sigh escaping your lips.

Good, that should stop you from biting back at him.

Hooking a finger in the top of your dress, he tugged it down, and was happy to see no bra, breasts flattening and nipples already pebbled in the cool breeze.

Even better, less work.

“You have amazing tits,” he whispered, closing his hand around one and squeezing firmly until the flesh dimpled, thumb flicking over a flushed bud.

You shivered.

“Oh, you like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Saw you by the pool, knew straight away I wanted to get my hands and mouth on ‘em.”

“Yes please, like your mouth.”

He smiled, then widening his tongue, he licked up, right between the two, tasting your sweat and enjoying the way it made you breath hitch.

Katsuki kept kissing and licking, and kneading until he reached the centre, then he sucked harshly until your fingers were buried in his hair and your chest was expanding, back curving, and pussy rolling against his clothed cock.

Perfect.

Pliant.

Ready.

No one could ever say Birthday Boy wasn’t a multitasker; while you were busy enjoying the attention given to your chest, he’d slipped his hand down your thigh and had begun to tug on the bow at your hip.

The way the fabric loosened had you moaning with anticipation, and you were eager to get him in the same state of undress, wiggling your arms between you to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

He had to release you for a second to help, but that only gave you the opportunity to admire his luminous skin under the moonlight as he sat up to pull it over his head, showering glitter over his shoulders and your breasts as he shook his head.

Fuck you side ways - you hoped he did - he was delicious. You wanted to lick every inch of him.

Greedy hands explored a bare expanse of well-defined muscles, and it was then that you realised, you had contributed nothing to this dalliance so far.

You leaned up awkwardly - shit, you were so fucking drunk - and tried to crawl into his lap, your bare chest brushing against his, skin tingling at the contact as you palmed him to undo the zip of his fly, when his mouth attached itself to yours again.

“What’cha doin’?”

“Participating,” you mumbled, nipping at his swollen lips.

“Bit late for that. I was about to-”

You smiled, shaking your head, and finally settled yourself against him when you pushed him back on his haunches. “It’s your birthday, I think you deserve a present.”

“Oh no you don’t.”

You found yourself laying in the sand once more, him hovering over you, wrists pinned above your head, and a smirk so devilish splitting his face you wanted to see it while you sucked his cock.

You whined at the injustice.

“You don’t get to change the rules. I don’t know what those fuckers did, or didn’t do, to leave you so unsatisfied, but I have a fuckin’ flawless track record. You wanted to get dicked down good and proper on the beach so that’s what we’re doin’. One night with me is worth more than what those bellends could ever give you, and I’ll make this whole holiday worth whatever you paid for it.”

“Fuck, Birthday Boy. I think that little speech just did it.”

He chuckled, all throaty and gravelly, nose prodding at your cheek. “Not even close,” he whispered below the noise of the waves, “I promise. Now just lay back while I take my birthday present.”

Holy fucking shit.

He must not have been lying about your tits, because he was back on them in an instant, holding more gently and sucking more sensual, setting the little bundle of nerves to tingle sharply when he blew a cold stream of air across the wetness, causing your sweat to cool and prickle your skin, and your clit to throb uncontrollably.

Your breathing stuttered at the change of pace, and even when you felt his knuckles dig into his front pocket and heard the crinkle of foil, you were having a hard time thinking this could get even better.

Birthday boy was a dickhead like you’d known all along; with that dickbag, bad boy attitude you could smell from a mile away. Even if his snarky mouth hadn’t given him away, you were glad he knew how to use it. He’d probably be able to make you cum just like this, he’d already shown his talent back in the alley.

And even if he didn’t end up having the biggest cock out of his friends - you’d put money on it being the redhead - you were getting the impression that he knew how to use what he’d been given.

You could feel it, poking at your inner thigh, and he wasn’t small by any means of the word.

So maybe things could get better, as you watched his eyes, blown wide with lust, glowing from the luminescence from the glowsticks around your wrists, and burning a fire within them, yet he still managed to smirk around your nipple when he caught you staring and raising the condom packet into your line of sight.

Smug bastard.

He raised up once more, mouth glistening with smudged spit, and you followed suit to lean on your elbows to watch.

Deftly he ripped the wrapper open with his teeth and popped his shorts open at the same time, not even bothering to pull them down the whole way. He didn’t have a tan line, yet, but that didn’t matter anyway, his cock was so red and swollen you could spot it from the other side of the beach when he grasped it from between the linen flaps.

You bit your lip and your hips wriggled, thighs reflexively trying to clamp closed to relieve some of the ache and anticipation at the thought of where that cock would be in a few seconds, only to be prevented by his slim waist that sat snuggly between your splayed legs. You reached down to touch yourself instead, your panties falling away from the loosened bow, to feel the wetness from your previous orgasm and leaking more.

He slapped you with the head of his cock and precum smeared the back of your hand.

“Wait!” he admonished.

Your fingers stilled as he rolled down the condom and you whimpered at how agonisingly slow his movements were, until he grabbed at the back of your knees and wrenched them up to your shoulders, practically rolling you into a ball as you gasped in shock.

“Keep your ass up unless you want sand in your cunt,” he ordered, pushing his thighs more firmly beneath yours, keeping you anchored in place. “Now spread those pretty pussy lips for me, yeah?”

Getting over the sudden change in position, your index and ring fingers slid between your inner and outer lips, pulling them apart, and you shivered at the tingle of the salty air when you felt your arousal web, then split with an embarrassing squelch.

You weren’t usually such a bitch - like he’d pointed out - during sexual situations, but he’d been right to boil it down to you being so sexually frustrated with the lack of good dick that you’d lashed out. And now that inner shy girl was rearing her head as you held yourself open for him to gaze down at.

And he’d done this before, you could tell from his words of advice, and you had to resist the urge to ask him about it and cover yourself, which was surprisingly easy with the way he was looking down at you, full of greed and covetousness, like you were his first.

His answering groan at the sight of you spread out like a buffet, pussy open to the elements and waiting for him was enough to push that shyness down. Especially his accompanying words.

“Gonna fuck you good, yeah? Gonna make you remember me; have you picturing this every time you even think of going to the beach again.”

You shuddered at his growl, feeling the cool, wet latex of the condom, and the heat of his cock seeping through, rubbing against your folds and the sides of your fingers, gliding effortlessly through your slick, catching on the opening with each pass.

“Birthday B-”

“It’s Katsuki when I’m inside, got it?”

With that, he pushed in, and you quivered at the stretch, his spikey locks obscuring your view a little as he watched himself enter you.

“Fuck… so fuckin’ tight!”

He was so fucking big.

“Kats…”

His head whipped up and he grinned at you. “That’s it,” he encouraged, sinking in another inch. “You know how to be a good girl really, don’tcha?”

Withdrawing your hand from your burning sex to dig your nails in a toned bicep, you blinked, catching the starlight behind his glittering, fair hair. Was it the ecstasy that made them seem brighter, or had they always been like that?

Or was it him?

Fuck, you didn’t know. All you did know, was you’d never been split like this before; it stung like a slow stab, and it made you wetter, easing the slide as he shallowly sunk in and out, feeding you more until hips met ass and you couldn’t see the stars anymore, only two eclipses of black and red lighting up in the glow of your bracelets.

“You ready?”

What the fuck was he talking about? He’d already started.

“Come on, Sweetheart. Don’t blank out on me now, not after you made me work for it.”

The air was punched out of you and your cunt clenched.

He groaned at your reaction, but still managed to keep that smirk in place, adjusting his hold, the muscles of his back shifting beneath your palms so he could lean down closer and plant a hand beside your head, “Oh, you like that one, do you? Want me to say it again…?”

Oh shit!

Warm, moist breath hit the curve of your neck, sweat collecting in the hollows of your clavicles, and a slow lick traced the dip.

He was driving you crazy; cock buried deep, pussy unable to breathe with how much he filled you. But worst of all was that you couldn’t move, couldn’t get him to move, not with the way he had you tied up like a pretzel. All you could manage was to claw at his back and cling desperately.

“I asked if you’re ready. This shit ain’t difficult,” he mocked. “Maybe I should be talking to your pretty cunt, Sweetheart, because I sure as shit ain’t getting anything from your mouth anymore.”

Your cunt whined for him, squeezing again.

“I‘ll take that as a yes.”

Then he moved, pulling out all the way to the tip, then slammed back in, knocking the breath out of you once more, releasing it in a shocked squeal as your vision blacked out.

Now that he’d started, he didn’t stop. Though he did change up the pace with each alternate thrust; slow and agonizing so you could feel each bump of your insides, to hard and fast where you could hardly think, to swivels of his hips to explore more thoroughly and nudge at that sensitive spot so few had ever managed to find; usually resorting to them furiously rubbing at your clit to keep you wet or get you off - some not even bothering to give you that common courtesy, leaving you to do it yourself.

Birthday Boy didn’t need to do that. He just held onto the ankle that he’d hooked over his shoulder and cradled your head with the other so he could kiss you between breaths, and moans, and mewls and hisses.

It was the equivalent to standing in the eye of a tornado one second, then being pulled into its winds the next. It was like he was assessing you, finding a rhythm that pleased you the most. It was so unlike any other one night stand you’d had; the other’s had been quick, so caught up in wanting to reach that peak to really feel or experience anything else.

Here there was indulgence in the frenzy, appreciating the sounds and smells, and revelling in the touches. And he did touch you, everywhere he could, while you held on for the ride, toed curling in the sand as you clawed at his back, sucking at his neck when he needed to breathe and adjust his hold.

Fucking hell, he filled you so good you actually forgot his name for a moment, slurring your words between moans until he reminded you.

“Katsuki. Wanna hear you say it. Come on, you can do it.”

“Ka- Kat- Katssshuu…”

“Hah…? Close enough.”

Distantly, you registered the smirk in his voice, and you’d be damned if it didn’t turn you on more.

Cocky fucking bastard.

Here you lay, your world being rocked, literally; feeling the sand beneath you shifting every time he pushed in and dragged back out, getting lodged in your dress and sticking to your back.

Waves crashed, the salt on your tongue tasted bitter from the sea air, panting breaths kept pushing your breasts against his chest, guttural moans, excited gasps and cries fell from trembling lips, sharp smacks of skin on skin competing with your wanton keening and his word of encouragement. It was all too much; your senses assaulted until you didn’t know up from down, left from right.

Only him. Inside you.

Making this the best holiday fuck of your life.

Your world finally righted itself when he pulled you up into his lap, his grip on your ass helping you to roll and bounce on his cock. “Stay with me,” he grit out. “We’re nearly there.”

The moonlight blinded you as you looked up at its fullness, relishing in what you were doing and where you were doing it.

His movements seemed more frantic, less methodical, yet he was still able to keep the momentum going. Then his thumb pressed against your clit and you cursed.

“Shit! Katsu, ‘m gonna…”

“Yeah, Sweetheart?” he asked innocently, and you knew he knew what it would do to you. His pelvis arching up at the exact moment it left his mouth, and you bit into his shoulder with a silent scream at his movement and chosen name for you.

Vivid colours burst behind your eyelids as you came, joints locking and muscles seizing, lungs punched of all their air.

Birthday Boy used you like a fleshlight in your orgasmic state, fingers biting into flesh as he helped you draw it out before he went rigid, slamming you down one more time and you felt his cock twitch around your tight walls, trying to suck him down further and expecting a flood of warmth in your belly which never came.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…Katsuki, what the fuck!” you gasped, falling boneless against him, the film of perspiration covering your skin cooling quickly making it prickle, and you shivered, trembling in his arms as they came around you.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he panted through a chuckle. “Now how ‘bout that drink?”

You were expecting to wake up to the mother of all hangovers, but instead you just felt like you hadn’t slept all night, muscles and bones throbbing with a delicious ache, and you supposed that was true. And thankful he’d made you drink that litre of bottled water before letting you fall asleep.

After him making your fantasy come to life, Birthday Boy had walked you along the beach back your hotel, and had taken you to a bar along the way to buy you a sex on the beach cocktail to… celebrate?

You didn’t know. He was fucking weird.

Then he’d walked you to his room without even consulting you about it - which was fine, you knew Mina and his friend, or friends, were probably already messing up the sheets - and he proceed to make good on his promise to fuck your face and then bent you over the balcony and fucked you all over again.

You smushed your face into the armpit beneath your head in remembrance of seeing a couple down by the pool as the sun came up over the horizon, their moans bouncing off the walls and converging with your own. You swear they changed positions on the sunlounger just so they could watch and be watched at the same time. Birthday Boy didn’t seem to mind, probably liked it, because he’d taken you harder, getting you to scream louder.

And it seemed he hadn’t gotten his fill after last night and early this morning, his cock poking at your thigh draped over his waist while his finger grazed against your sticky folds, sliding through the slick that was beginning to build again.

“What time is it?” you grumbled, vocal cords hoarse, stray smatterings of crusted sand and glitter itching your back when you arched out a faint stretch, the light filtering through the thin curtains highlighting the room as you blinked away any residual sleep.

“Late enough to miss breakfast,” he replied, voice deep and scratchy, “and we’re halfway to missing lunch.”

You rested your chin on his chest to see his eyes were closed, his head resting in the palm of his hand.

“Gonna have to be quick then.”

He cracked an eye open, a slit of red peeking through. “Wha’s that?”

“Coach is picking me up in a couple of hours,” you replied, hitching your leg higher so the tip of his finger could slip inside, and you hummed at the intrusion.

“Where you goin’?”

“Home.”

The other eye popped opened at that, prodding stopping, then withdrawing, and you were quickly flipped onto your back, your squeak turning into a giggle at the bounce of the mattress.

Oh, did he want to perform a recreation?

You were up for it.

“You’re leaving?”

With a bite of your lip, you nodded an affirmative. “‘s my last day.”

His brow drew down and you laughed at his expression, poking the wrinkles in his forehead.

“What? Were you hoping for a holiday romance, Birthday Boy?”

He looked like a pouting, petulant child when he answered, “No,” and it made you laugh harder, because he was still covered in glitter, even though you felt a twinge of jealousy in your gut at the thought that he'd find someone else, or many other someone’s, to spend his nights with.

“Then what you doing wasting me?”

He growled and made out like he was going to kiss you, and you would have let him, even with morning breath, when there was the sound of the balcony doors opening and a voice saying, “Oh good, you’re awake.”

You squealed at the unexpected disturbance, trying to pull the covers over your chest, but Birthday Boy didn’t move, keeping you pinned beneath him.

“Get lost, Bean Stalk.”

“You saying you don’t want an audience?” he asked with a cocked brow, smoke leaving his lips as he blew it out the sliding door and shutting it after.

“I’m telling you to fuck off,” he snapped over his shoulder. “I ain’t got time for your shit. How the fuck did you even get in here?”

“I think you should be giving me a little something after you and Denks left me to look after Ei while you were both getting your dicks wet. Nice tan line by the way,” he added at you, eyeing up your exposed hip and making you squeak.

Birthday Boy shifted, looking over his other shoulder at the empty bed beside his.

“Wherever the big bastard is, take him with you.”

As if on cue, a God-awful wretching started in the next room, the type that bubbles in your throat and leaves it feeling raw. It made you want to gag, imagining the smell. The hard splashes of rancid alcohol-injected bile hitting the toilet water only made it worse, remembering how much you drank just hours ago.

“Get him out of here.”

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to get him here?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Birthday Boy spat, entangling himself from you and you were quick to snatch up the blanket while he slipped on a pair of form-fitting boxers. “Why didn’t you take him to your room?”

“People always feel more comfortable in their own bed when they’re ill,” he reasoned, sitting at the end of Eijirou’s.

Birthday Boy glared at his friend as he passed him, “He’s never fuckin’ slept in it.”

Hanta shrugged, but you saw the sly grin he wasn't even trying to hide.

“Fuckin’ useless, all of you,” he growled, grumbling about lightweights and interfering wankers as he grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with his friend.

He was looking at you, and you felt entirely out of place, fiddling with one of the glowsticks still wrapped around your wrist, its phosphorescence long dulled, and its twin missing.

“I should probably go.”

You picked up your dress, debated on whether to change in front of him and decided not to when you couldn’t find your shoes or underwear. You don’t ever remember putting them back on, Birthday Boy having given you a piggyback back to the hotel.

Aww, you really liked those heels too.

“He’ll be angry if you leave without saying goodbye.”

You laughed, opening the door, and hearing Birthday Boy cursing at his friend who was groaning in agony. “He's probably already forgotten about me,” you said, before commencing your walk of shame.

Ordinarily, you hated airports; too many people, baggage knocking into your shins and rolling over toes, stinky, disgruntled passengers moaning and complaining from a lack of sleep or because of scheduling problems, but this time it wasn’t so bad.

You felt rather chipper; a small spark of anticipation lighting in your stomach with each step.

“Everything go okay? Flight on time?”

“Yeah,” you said. “So far so good.”

“Nervous?”

“Now that you’ve said it, yeah.”

A little dark space in the back of your mind had been growing with each hour, posing a dreadful question over and over again you didn’t want to even consider answering if it were true.

“You’ll be fine. And before I forget, hap-”

Looking around, you saw a young, pretty woman being picked up by a handsome man, twirling her around, their smiles wide.

A little girl holding a teddy bear and a look of expectant eagerness in her eyes as she searched for someone, her mother standing behind her with her hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place.

Two guys were kissing like it was the end of the world, another couple were crying and hugging, sobs of joy and relief of being reunited after so long apart.

“Sorry Mina, I gotta go.”

“Oh, is-”

You cut the line and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

That black niche was now bathed in sunshine and smelt like the sea.

He looked just as you remembered, spikey, blond locks pointing this way and that, tight shirt clinging to delectable shoulders and biceps, hands stuffed in denim pockets, a scowl on his face as he was jostled; he was shuffling from foot to foot though, and you don’t remember him ever showing nervousness disguised as impatience as he tried to see over the ocean of heads in his way. He’d been confident and confrontational, cocky and antagonistic; it was weird seeing him this way.

To realise he was just as anxious, put your own fears at ease.

And when he finally caught sight of you, that trepidation marring his features smoothed out, his eyes widening and that smirk was back a second later.

There he was.

It was weeks after you landed back home, but one day, while you were waiting for the bus, your phone dinged with a notification.

You hadn’t thought much of it at first, nodding along to the music playing through your headphones, lost in a memory. It was when you’d taken it out to show the driver your pass, you saw a name you didn’t think you'd ever see or hear again.

Your heart had stopped.

Mina had been looking high and low for just a whiff of him after realising your despondency was because of a certain blond, and her encouragement for you to go to the local clubs and pubs had failed, but had ultimately given up when she’d come to the conclusion that he couldn’t be found, and neither could his friends, not with only first names to go on. And you doubted she’d find them under the nicknames they used for each other.

You’d almost forgotten about him and that night.

After you’d shaken yourself from your stupor and taken your seat, the bus had pulled away from the stop, an advertisement flashing on the side of the shelter; the coming season's holiday deals with a picture of a couple sitting on a sunset lit beach.

Bakugou Katsuki has sent you a friend request.

Now, wheeling your case behind you, you approached, your own smile coming through.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Birthday Girl.”

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