yourluckieday

[yourluckieday]

Today is my birthday, that is all.

[yourluckieday]

four — can i see you

tag, ur it! — sakusa ? iwaizumi ? osamu ? 

*ੈ✩‧ love is a losing game your roommate, your rival, or your ex—the choice should be simple, right? right?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.1k content. profanity

You were a freshman. A stupid, naive, lost lamb of a freshman.

It was your first week at college and you’d gotten lost between classes. Your friends—stupid, lost freshmen just like you, though they’d never admit it—were no help at all. 

After walking around, imagining how the professor would scold you for being late for class (you later realized they didn’t care at all), you admitted defeat and sat down on a bench to wallow in your misery.

You contemplated how you’d tell your mother that you were dropping out of school, leaning back and trying your best not to burst into tears.

And that was when you saw him. The love of your life who was going to wreck it all.

He was tossing a frisbee around with a group of guys whose name you’d later come to know all too well. From a distance, he looked terrifying, definitely not the kind of guy you could walk up to and ask for directions. Yet, there you were, somehow pulled out of your seat, drawn to him.

“Hey,��� he said, like you were an old friend. “You good?”

That’s when the floodgates opened and you found yourselves bawling to this stranger, blurting out every single one of your doubts and fears as he pulled himself away from his group and sat you down on a patch of grass.

He nodded to each of your worries and rubbed your back, trying to calm you down. “It’ll be okay,” he said between your rambling. “Just relax a little.”

Eventually, you ran out of words and tears and devolved into a hiccuping mess, rubbing your eyes and nose, trying to breathe.

“That’s it,” he said, smiling as you started to settle down.

You blinked at him. The embarrassment suddenly hit you and you buried your face in your hands. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I must look insane.”

He just laughed. “Nah, you’re good,” he told you, moving away from you and sitting down. “It’s good to let things out every now and then, you know. Helps the nerves or some shit.”

You looked up at him and cringed. Had you really just sobbed like a kid to this god of a man?

“I’m so fucking embarrased.”

He laughed again. “Don’t be,” he told you. “Do you want me to do something embarrassing to make up for it?”

You shook your head. “Please don’t. I’d feel worse,” you said. You wiped your eyes and let your shoulders slump. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he told you, getting up. He reached his hand out for you to take, and you surprised yourself when you took it and pulled yourself up. “Come on, let’s get you to class.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you so nice?”

He grinned at you and shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but it’s not every day that a pretty girl comes up to me and asks for help.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m really not,” he told you, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, pretty girl, you wouldn’t wanna be late, would you?”

The two of you made your way back to the building, stopping at the restroom so you could try and salvage the way you looked. You already messed up one first impression by looking insane, you didn’t want your classmates to suffer the same fate.

He led you to the third floor where your classroom was, pointing out different places you’d need to know later on as you went. “You’re an art student right?”

You nodded. “Painting major.”

“Damn.” He whistled. “That’s kinda hot.”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

He shook his head. “I’m really not,” he told you. “You gotta have a little more confidence if you’re gonna make it through college, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl. He’d called you that more times that you could count in the short amount of time that you’d been with him. If anything was going to drive you to the brink of insanity again, it was that silly pet name.

“You’re not some creepy upperclassman who’s gonna start stalking me, are you?” you asked. “Because if you are, I’m only into that in very special cases.”

“Hey, I’m probably a year older than you. Two, tops.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He stopped in front of the door. 312-B, the classroom you’d spent the last hour looking for. He handed you your bag and smiled that easy smile of his.

“For the record, I’m not,” he said. “A creepy upperclassman, I mean.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I figured. A little boring, but it’s fine.”

“I’m Osamu,” he said, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You reached out and told him your name. “Thank you, really.”

His hand lingered on yours before he pulled away. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you. Then, he winked. “You can always pay me back later, pretty girl.”

And just like that, he turned to leave, waving at you as you pushed the door open.

You sat down in class waiting for your professor who would show up thirty minutes late, and all you could think about was Osamu. And he was really all you thought about for the rest of the week. And the next two years.

“You’re distracted,” Tsukishima says, dropping the stack of books on your desk. “Mimi wants to give these away.”

“Like donate them?” you ask, looking over the titles. Art books that you suspect you’ll never be able to afford at the rate you’re going. “Would she donate them to me?”

He shakes his head and walks over to his desk. “She just said to give them away,” he tells you. “Have at them.”

Smiling, you slide the books over to the side of your desk and turn back to your laptop. “Have you sent the emails yet?”

“Weren't you supposed to?”

“Yeah,” you say as you look over your laptop at him. You flutter your eyes at him in an attempt to make him weak at the knees. “But I was kinda hoping you’d do it.”

Tsukishima looks at you, immune to your tricks. “I could have her fire you right now, you know.”

You snarl. “I hate you.”

“Thanks. Now, send those emails,” he says, turning back to his own work. “So, why are you so distracted today?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re never this crappy at your job,” he tells you. “What is it?”

You look over at where your phone is placed face down on your desk. You think of the text on it, waiting for your reply.

can i see you?

An overwhelming feeling washes over you. Like you’re a freshman again. Like you’re a fool.

You shudder at the thought.

“Nothing,” you say as you pull up the emails you were supposed to send. “Just tired.”

notes. and we're back!!! sorry for the late updates but we're starting back up again ;) so excited for you guys to read the rest of this series

[yourluckieday]

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.

Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.

It’s a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.

The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugou’s men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans. 

Your fate is in Bakugou’s hands, now, in more ways than one.

The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your father’s passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife. 

It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly. 

The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.

You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.

Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.

“Lord General—that is, Your Highness,” one of them stutters through the door. “We are required to witness the consummation—to verify that it is complete.”

A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.

“You’ll be sure of consummation when I’m done here,” he growls through the door. “Don’t need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.”

A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laugh—at his promise, at his gruffness.

“Your Highness,” comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someone’s fallen over their feet.

An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.

“The fuck’re you laughing about,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. “You’re taking to your new post well.”

Bakugou’s features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.

“My post,” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “As your husband.”

Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone. 

“I supposed it is a post like any other,” you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. “There are responsibilities and… marital duties.”

You hear the soft tread of Bakugou’s boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleeves—the better to fight in, to train in.

A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“You nervous, Princess?” he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.

You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you don’t know how to feel. Relieved that you’ve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugou’s composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.

“Nonsense,” you sniff. 

A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugou’s mouth like he sees right through you. “You’ve never been with a man.”

Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugou’s assessing stare. “I’ve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am… prepared.”

Something hot alights in Bakugou’s gaze, burning like a coal. It’s not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when you’d first come to him with this wild proposal.

“And what do you think you know,” he says, flatter than a question.

Your nose grows hot. “Enough.”

A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. “Answer the question, angel.”

Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. “You will undress me and then… enter me. I shall lie still—they say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will… work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.”

A snort comes from Bakugou. “Is that how you royal tightasses do it?”

You feel your eyes narrow. “That is how everyone does it.”

Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.

“You don’t know shit, Princess,” Bakugou says.

You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable. 

“Explains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if that’s how you’re doing it.”

Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.

“You are insufferable,” you inform him hotly. “I am sure of the matter.”

“You’re always sure of a lot of things, Princess,” he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.

“I am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,” you say. “Now be quiet and commence with it. Let’s have done with it.”

Bakugou’s face is suddenly closer than you’d remembered it being.

“I’ll have done with you alright,” he says. “But I’m not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.”

You find you can’t think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.

“I—but there is only the one way,” you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.

Bakugou’s mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is. 

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he says.

And then his mouth is pressed to yours. 

It’s nothing like the stilted peck you’d been obliged to give him at the ceremony—one that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugou’s mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.

Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.

“B–akugou,” you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. “That’s—not my—ah!—mouth,” you manage.

The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.

“No shit,” he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss. 

Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. “Consummating.”

“But you’re not undressing me,” you say. “And shouldn’t we—on the bed?

Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. “They tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?”

You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bed—where else were you supposed to do it?

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same thing?” you eventually ask him.

Both of Bakugou’s eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.

“I knew you’d be a fucking handful,” he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. “Don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about and you’re still trying to give me orders.”

You yank at the fistful of his hair you’re still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.

“Listen closely, Princess,” he tells you, leaning in. “We're going to consummate, alright. But I’m not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. I’m going to do what I want first, and you’re going to be good and let me.”

Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. “If it’s going to be painful I’d rather just have it over with, if you don’t mind,” you say.

Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. “It’s not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.”

You blink. You hadn’t heard that there was a way around the pain—why hadn’t anyone told you?

“I—really?” you ask.

Bakugou nods. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well then… you may proceed, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.

“Well get on with it,” you say, arching your eyebrows.

Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.

“Gonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,” he mutters, low like he’s promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.

You’ve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what he’s doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.

You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain. 

“Been thinking about this, Princess,” he says. “Ever since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.”

You’re excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.

“Bakugou,” you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts. 

“B–Katsuki,” you say. “What are you doing?”

Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Husbandly duties,” he replies, another smirk on his mouth.

And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.

“Katsuki!” you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this part—about how a man’s mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a man’s mouth could even go there at all.

Bakugou doesn’t reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.

He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until you’re a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. There’s a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.

“Katsuki—I feel strange,” you say, bucking against his mouth. “Oh—oh!”

“Just hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,” Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.

And then something makes you jerk—the press of Katsuki’s fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like he’s touching the same place inside of you from both sides.

Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugou’s name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.

“That’s it, Princess,” he says, tone rough. “Now you’re ready for consummation.”

You hear his words as if through a haze, and it’s only once you’re moving—being picked up and carried over to the bed—that you register what he’s saying.

He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. You’re embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.

It feels strange, but not at all unpleasant—absolutely nothing like what they’d told you.

“You alright, Princess?” Bakugou asks.

“I—yes,” you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.

“Feel good?” he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.

You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and you’re embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.

The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. He’s hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effort—the way he looks sometimes when he’s just come in from the training pitch.

He’s beautiful—handsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that he’s yours now—not just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.

It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.

The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.

“That’s it, Princess, that’s it,” he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. “Knew you would, sweetheart, yeah.”

Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.

His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.

Apt, for a general.

“Better than how you wanted to do it, wasn’t it, Princess?” he asks, smug.

You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that he’d had the better of it, this time.

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he says.

Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugou’s ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.

“Nosy fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.

“Not done yet, angel?” he says.

“I am, thank you.” You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.

Your stomach flutters.

“Give me a couple more minutes, Princess,” Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle they’d pinned you into. 

“Five more minutes,” your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. “And then we'll give them something to really listen to.”

[yourluckieday]

you get on your knees for bakugou while he’s just in boxers and its the most embarrassed he’s ever been. his chest up to neck and ears is cherry pink and his hands are gripping the counter trying to stay upright. you’re being a little mean to him and he keeps denying that he likes it.

but when you pull his boxers down and let his cock free, its leaking a little. you make a sarcastic little comment “aw, you excited that you’re finally getting laid?” and he gets mad but you see it in real time—his cock twitching right in front of your face, drooling precum in a pathetic little stream right from the tip. you’re so surprised by it you laugh, and that makes him blush even darker

[yourluckieday]

burying your face in his neck while you ride him on the couch. feeling his head turn and his lips glide a wet path over your jaw before he nips at it, breathing something about how good you’re making him feel — or maybe something with more of a teasing edge. getting tired? need me to do it for you? his hands cupping under your ass, getting a good handful before moving up to grip and guide your movements. maybe a light smack for encouragement. there you go, don’t stop now. ride that dick. you do it so well, baby. so well that i don’t think i can pull out.

[yourluckieday]

Katsuki wouldn’t cheat on anyone. He barely likes Kirishima, and that’s his best fucking friend. Once he finds someone that’s it. He found the one he liked, nothing else matters. He’s a creature of habit and you’re his favorite habit.

[yourluckieday]

Somone hitting on Katsuki, and he keeps saying, "I love my wife." and the person replies with, "Okay, but your wife doesn't have to know." And Katsuki just glares before he replies, "Tch. You're right she doesn't have to know. But I'll know, and since I know, she'll know, cause I tell that bitch everything."

[yourluckieday]

I just know in my heart of hearts that if Katsuki loved you and married you, and you died, he’d never re-marry. He wouldn’t. It doesn’t matter if you grew old together or if you died young, he would spend the rest of his days missing you. Sure he’d have a one night stand, or a casual friend with benefits, but loving someone else that isnt you? Impossible.

[yourluckieday]

Current obsession… Skull and Bones. I’m a menace.

[yourluckieday]

Men who kiss your pussy like they kiss your mouth. Like they just make out with your pussy.

[yourluckieday]

Nearsighted in one eye, farsighted in the other, with astigmatism in both eyes, and my right eye is lazy.

People who wear glasses! What is your reason for wearing them?

nearsighted

Shortsighted

Astigmatism

A secret fourth thing? (Put in tags!)

Don't wear glasses/see results

I have an astigmatism and retinitis pigmentosa :)

Nearsighted girl here 🤓 - H :)

[yourluckieday]

Husband!Bakugo

(Conversation happens post love making)

"Do you remember when you asked me to marry you, and everyone kept telling us we were too young? So you got mad and said “screw it” and we just eloped?” She asked, the memory pulling the corners of her mouth in to a smile, “I knew then, that I would love you until the day I died.” she told him, while idly tracing hearts in his skin.

Katsuki's face softens, a rare smile tugging at his lips at the memory. "Yeah, I remember," he says, the warmth of the recollection lighting up his eyes. "Everyone thought they knew better, thought they could tell us what to do. As if I'd ever let anyone else make decisions for me—especially not when it came to you."

He turned his head slightly, lifting her hand to his lips, and pressing a kiss into her palm, then he released her, letting her continue her tender exploration of his skin. "That day, when I said 'screw it' and took you to that little chapel, it was the best damn decision I ever made. I didn't need a big ceremony or any fuss; all I needed was you and me, making it official."

His hand moved to cover hers, stilling her movements for a moment so he could interlace their fingers, a physical manifestation of their emotional bond. "I knew I loved you then, and I know I'll love you until I'm nothing but dust. You're my best win, my top achievement—and I've never been too young or too stupid to see that."

[yourluckieday]

There is no such thing as being pissed and not sleeping in your shared bed with Katsuki at night.

You have gotten pissed at him several times and been too upset to sleep in the same bed as him.

To be honest you only did it because you KNEW how much he looked forward to holding you at night. He’d spilled his guts one night when he’d had one too many, about how much it calms him to be wrapped around you when he sleeps. Just knowing you’re safe and feeling your warmth mixed with his.

You’d never told him about that night and maybe it was a little toxic using that against him when he upsets you but🤷🏾‍♀️ oh damn well.

But it’s not like it ever does you much good anyways.

You guys had gotten into an argument, so you’d gone and showered, getting ready for bed. Kats was already in there laying down and it seemed like he was almost asleep already.

(Men being able to fall asleep 2 minutes after their heads hit a pillow will never not baffle me)

Anyways you grab your pillow from your side and try to sneak off toward the living room.

“Ya seriously doing this shit?” He grumbles at you.

“Im not going to sleep somewhere im not comfortable… so yes I am. Night” and you walked out of the room and closed the door.

You made yourself comfy on the couch and curled up. It took you a while to go to sleep because whether you wanted to admit it or not, you were always more comfy intertwined with him too. He’s like a weighted, heated blanket.

It feels like you had just closed your eyes when you were slightly jostled.

You already knew it was Katsuki picking you up and carrying you back to your bed.

“Put me down. ‘M not sleepin with you ass face.” You mumble but find yourself snuggling closer to him.

“Your insults suck when you’re half asleep.”

“Katsu-“

“Shut up. If you wanna fight more in the mornin that’s fine but not tonight.”

“Whatever” you didn’t have it in you to argue. Also it wouldn’t have done any good. He does this every time. Let’s you get just enough into your sleep that he knows you’ll be pliable when he comes to get you.

Sometimes you’d wake and sometimes not but either way the next morning you woke up in your bed.

He laid you down and buried you under the blankets before he slid in on his side. Not like he stayed over there.

You felt his arms wrapping around you and his legs tangling with your before you felt a kiss pressed to the back of your neck.

“ Exhausted and my body pillow wants to sleep on the couch,” and he let out this huge exaggerated yawn, “ Ridicuous”

Wow, so where you saw him as a blanket he saw you as a pillow. What a dork.

“ I love you, can’t wait to piss you off again tomorrow”, he said into your skin but you’d already drifted back off to sleep.

[yourluckieday]

Warnings| slight size kink, slight cervix fucking, mirror sex.

“You’ve never had anyone this deep,” Katsuki muses. You assume he must have deduced this from your expression. From what you can make of it through your blurry vision, you look stunned. Disbelieving of how far inside you his cock is lodged.

He shifts his hips and your eyes cross. Katsuki chuckles. “Oh, sweetheart,” he coos. “That’s really fucking sad.” He withdraws from your body, hips sticky with your mixed arousal and slams into you with enough force to jostle you up the bed. Your lips part on a silent scream, your reflection in the mirror above Katsuki’s bed mocking you. His head blocks your view as he drags his tongue across your parted lips, dipping it inside of your mouth to coax you into a kiss.

Katsuki savors every shift in your expression. Gaze trained on the way your lips tremble each time he bumps into your g spot. The way your brows twitch downward when he grinds his cock into the sensitive, gummy walls. “Can’t believe no one has ever reached your g spot,” he laughs. He adjusts you slowly, lifting your thighs from around his waist to perch them on his shoulders. His weight sinks you into the mattress like this his cock reaching somewhere even deeper.

“This—” he smirks near your ear, grasping the fleshy lobe between his teeth as he cups your ass to hold you steady, his cock catches on something inside of you, a place that feels weird and sensitive, that has your legs threatening to kick out “—is your cervix, angel.”

Your lids flutter and Katsuki tuts. “Eyes open, baby,” he warns, words shaky. “Look at yourself,” he reminds you and your eyes immediately rise to the mirror on his ceiling, you can barely focus on anything but the bruising of your pussy under Katsuki’s fucking but your expression becomes burned into your brain. “You look so good getting good dick,” he laughs. “Fucked out and adorable.”

Some sort of your brain registers that you’ve scratched red marks into he pale skin of Katsuki’s back. That you can see the shifting muscles of his back with each of his thrusts. That you have a perfect view of his tight ass and the way those muscles flex. But in the forefront of your mind you can only hear Katsuki’s words.

“Good dick has you glowing,” he gloats. And you have to agree. You look good spread under him, eyes hazy and lips parted to gulp air into your lungs. “My dick has you glowing.”

You can only whine your agreement. You don’t think you’ve ever looked this debauched or felt this sexy getting fucked but once again Katsuki takes a first you don’t even know existed. You’re creaming around his cock before you even notice it and his pace barely even falters. He fucks you right through it words of encouragement whispered into your neck.

You lock eyes with your reflection and you swear it winks back at you. Finally, we’re getting the dick we deserve, echoes in your mind but you’re too cock drunk to decipher whether it’s a conscious thought or not. All you know is you agree.

[yourluckieday]

I ‘d play with his joystick 😏

gamer kat 🎮

[yourluckieday]

You gain relationship weight while dating Bakugou and I think it drives him. a little crazy. Could cum in his pants feeling how your tummy weights on his hands… Needs to marry you as soon as possible.

[yourluckieday]

Bakugo understands that he spends a lot of money on you for just being his personal assistant. But he can't help it.

You honestly deserve it. You're smart, responsible, diligent. You're a hard worker with principles, and your work ethic is something he respects.

It didn't matter how many people were against him promoting you from secretary to PA so soon in your career. Your work was top notch, and you kept him organised.

Sure, you were pretty as well, a sight for sore eyes, really. But that wasn't his fault, was it? It wasn't your fault either.

It's not like you came into work every day with full glam, diamond earrings, or elaborate hairstyles.

It had pissed him off at first, when people demeaned you or underestimated your work because of your looks, especially when he knew you worked so hard so you wouldn't be considered some dumb corporate bimbo.

But now? Now he loved it. He loved when he had clients over, and they'd do a double take when he sent for you to take notes or deliver documents to his table.

He'd noticed the modesty with which you'd dressed when you first started working for him, how you tried to dim yourself with drab colours that obviously washed you out, or plain hairstyles.

Not like it stopped anybody from being able to tell how pretty you were.

But after, when you'd started garnering his attention and racking up more bonuses from your diligence, he began noticing you wearing nicer things.

Of course, you had to up your wardrobe once you were promoted to the role of Personal Assistant to one of the biggest heroes in Japan. But that wasn't it.

Bakugo loved seeing you walk in with a new shirt or new shoes or new earrings after he'd rewarded you a bonus or a pay increase. There was a sort of high he got, knowing that you took care of yourself with the money he gave you.

Oh, he spoilt you rotten.

Month end rewards became the norm for you. He just closed a hefty advertising deal? Best believe you were getting a cut out of that. He was given a bottle of champagne as a gift? You're drinking it with him in his office.

Sure, it may have seemed a bit inappropriate to some people; him locking the doors and closing the windows, and having you sit on his lap prettily whilst he poured it out into a flute for you.

Sure, it was inappropriate for him to have his hands up your skirt as you recounted the month end figures for him, but you were comfortable that way. He was, too. Oh, so comfortable with your hands inside his trousers and his teasing at the lining of your panties.

He was just taking care of his best employee.

And maybe he did spend a lot of money on you, but you had to keep up appearances. He needed you looking your best when you were next to him.

It wasn't his fault you were so beautiful that brands reached out to him to get you to model for then after seeing you appear in some pictures by his side.

It wasn't his fault that he couldn't get anyone else to come with him to the Hero Gala. Besides, you're meant to be with him during these things to take notes for him. So having you as his date was basically killing two birds with one stone.

"Your assistant's fucking sexy," Kaminari whispered into Bakugo's ear, both of them watching you go to order a drink for your boss.

Bakugo smirked to himself, his eyes raking over your body, clad in the tight fitting dress he'd bought for you to wear. He'd also bought the earrings you had on, and the shoes and the necklace. Sure, it cost him quite a lot, but he just couldn't help it when you looked so good.

"She's single, isn't she?"

Now, that had him snapping his head in Kaminari's direction. "Don't even fucking think about."

Kaminari whined, "But why? She's your assistant, not your sister or your girlfriend."

"She's my assistant," Bakugo seethed, standing up from his seat. "She's my employee, and I won't have you lowering her efficiency." He murmured as he made his way to where you were.

You smiled brightly as you turned around to see him, handing him the second glass of champagne in your hands. "You look like you'd rather be somewhere else." You laughed softly.

He grinned down at you before downing the drink quickly. "I would," he said before dropping his glass back on the bar. "Come on."

He spoilt you rotten, but he couldn't help it. You looked so beautiful in your tight dress and pretty hair and beautiful face.

Sure, being seated on the sink and having your legs spread before his lips in the bathroom at the Hero Gala may have been a tad inappropriate, but how could he stop himself?

You were quivering for him, thighs pressing down and shaking on either side of his head, and your fingers gripping harshly at his hair, pulling him even closer as you rutted your heat against his lips.

He let out a desperate groan, burying his face deeper into your cunt, eating you out shamelessly, hungrily.

"Fuuck..." He growled into you.

You'd been so shy the first time he had his way with you, refusing to touch him, grind on him, behaving so meek and cute.

Now look at you, so selfish and desperate, almost suffocating him as he feasted. He spoilt you rotten, sure, but you deserved every morsel of it.

"Katsuki..." You whined desperately, your back arching off the mirror, the hand not pulling at his hair tightly gripping the edge of the counter. "Katsuki, I'm so close... I'm so fucking close, baby-"

His hands dug into the flesh of your ass, pulling your harsher into him, your clit pressing against his nose as his tongue made a meal of you. He was always so desperate for it, digging the wet muscle so far into your pussy you saw stars.

And he was messy too, his saliva and your arousal staying your thighs, dripping from the marble counter unto the ground as he ate from you.

Anyone who came in after would probably be able to tell from the smell of the bathroom alone. The cum leaking unto the floor would only solidify it.

But the thought of someone finding out that your boss had his face buried deep in your pussy wasn't exactly what you were thinking about when you came for him, hard and rough, your hips shaking and raising off the counter as you rode out your high.

"We shouldn't be doing such during events, sir." You whispered to him as you both walked down the corridors back into the hall where the gala was being held.

He had his large palm over your ass, groping you just in the dark of the hallway, letting go just as you stepped into the crowded hall.

"Just be a good girl and wait for me to fuck you on the way home, hm?" He smirked at you, a small sheen still visible on his lips.

He never cleaned his mouth properly after eating you out during such events. It was inappropriate, sure, but he just couldn't help himself.