your fingers pad across your phone, feeling like a mastermind using this as an excuse to see him. it’s not even an excuse! your car is broken. you eye the smoke steaming. you press send.

a few texts bounce back and forth between you both. you even roll your eyes over his texts but that doesn’t mean a grin doesn’t sneak up on your cheeks at the same time. it feels like your crush is blooming inside you, your heart flipping in your chest at the sight of a virtual baby. you close your eyes, when the hell is he going to ask you on a date, some proper alone time?

the deep smooth rumble tells you all you need to know. you fight the urge to do a little squeal and jump, swoon at the sight of his black porsche coming into view as you lean against your red car. you wipe your palms against your shorts, why the hell are you sweaty over seeing him again? the sun blasts down on you, prickling your skin with heat and you’re grateful for your outfit choice today. tank top and jean shorts, though you wish you brought your sunglasses. nerves shake through your veins just knowing he’s about to appear and you check your appearance in the wing mirror.

then the car slides to a stop, the emblem logo glistening at you, almost laughing at your busted little car. the explosive hero hops out, long thick legs in black basketball shorts, a white compression top and these nerdy rectangular framed glasses. it’s the glasses that make you bite down on your lip as he slams the driver’s door shut and rakes his hand through his hair. he looks as if he’s in a cologne advert or a car one, scanning the scene before landing on you. the left corner of his lips quirk up and he’s laughing. a quick breezy one that only makes you more enamoured by him.

you’re becoming a soppy mess.

“why did i even call you?”

he circles around his vehicle to get to you and the way he stares at you… you feel gorgeous. a cocky grin, eyes flicking to the top to bottom of you. it’s obvious, he likes what he sees. 

“you’re supposed to say hello my sex god baby daddy,”

two hands grip your waist tightly, pressing you up against your car and looking down at you. he’s overwhelming, the smell of his caramel sweat on this hot day, his larger body looming over you. he’s got stubble brushed across his face again and it’s true, he does look like pure sex. 

“nobody says sex god.”

bakugou pecks you like he couldn’t help it, your glossed lips over his moisturised ones. your arms link around his neck, then another peck. he smells good, a strong expensive musky cologne that makes you want to wrap your leg around his waist.

“yeah because they haven’t met me yet.” 

bakugou acts like he hasn’t seen you in months, kissing down your neck and you don’t fight him off, simply stretching so he’s got more space. he focuses on the junction between your neck and shoulder, you swear you hear him inhale.

“you smell so fuckin’ good.”

a giggle bubbles from your lips, “i like your glasses. they’re sexy.”

katsuki pauses the kisses on your neck, then stands up straight. his head blocks the sun from beaming down on you but it casts a blonde halo through the tips of his hair. of course he has to look angelic, with his plush lips and… is he insecure? 

bakugou reaches for his glasses, like he’s checking they’re actually there, “fuck. forgot i left them on. was readin’ contracts in the office.”

you don’t respond how he expects, it barely looks like you’re even registering what he’s saying. your hand flies up to his wrist, “keep them on. you look like clark kent, nerdy and sexy.”

living in a country full of superheroes, being one himself, you had to compare him to a fictional one. bakugou scoffs, “don’t compare me to an alien, i’m so much stronger. could kill him with a—,”

you couldn’t care less, pressing your lips to his again and bakugou easily takes control. hips pressing you into your car door so you can feel him hardening against your stomach. he even cocks your leg up so he’s in position to grind into you, a large hand sneaking up your vest.

that’s when you’ve got to stop, pushing him off you abruptly and bakugou is the embodiment of aroused, you’re sure you look it too. “we aren’t having sex on the side of the road.”

bakugou chuckles, loud and boyish. you feel his eyes linger on the hem of your vest, slightly shuffled up to reveal your waist and navel. it would be so easy to unpop the button to your little denim shorts.

“we aren’t?” 

bakugou isn’t like this usually. he’s never all over women, desperate to touch them as soon as he’s laid eyes on them. he prefers to be private, in a hotel or his bedroom and never mention it again. he never feels pinches of excitement when he gets texts or so eager to abandon his work just to see one. he’s definitely never been so attracted to someone he’s willing to tease them outdoors on the side of a road but you’re looking at him the same way he is looking at you, like you want him desperately. there’s a layer of sweat on your forehead from the heat, your eyes are half lidded and shiny, he wants to shove you in your car, his car, see your eyes roll back and moan.

“no! you need to look at my car, katsuki.”

bakugou rolls his eyes, he has people to look at his car, he doesn’t really know too much about them aside from the basics. but if a pretty woman asks for assistance he’s not saying no.

he rounds to the front of your car, “is kenj at nursery?”

“yup. he was having a tantrum this morning about wanting to wear his orange crocs till he remembered they were at yours.”

you stand with your arms crossed as bakugou opens your car bonnet, wafting his hands to rid the smoke.

“i did ask him if he wanted to bring them to yours and he said no. i’ll just stuff them in his bag next time.”

you hum in agreement, transfixed by your baby father’s nose scrunched as he stares at your engine. he pushes his glasses up his nose bridge with his knuckle, then looks over at you and grins, “you look gorgeous. didn’t say that before.”

“you didn’t have to say it, you were all over me.” you scoff, though you soften under his gaze, “thanks. what’s the car saying?”

“your exhaust is busted again. and there’s a leak back here.” then he stands, giving you a once over, “i think your shitbox is dead though i can try sort the leak. i have a tool box in my car.”

you smile at him, gold necklace glittering around your neck and bakugou feels a breath halt in his throat. he wasn’t lying, you are gorgeous, beautiful, you texted him for help. “thank you! i’ll call car repairs for them to pick her up. i think she’s still worth saving.”

bakugou rolls his eyes adoringly, walking over to his car boot. “wishful thinkin’, sweetheart.”

staring at your baby daddy tinkering with something in your car, has to be covered under soft core porn. he wipes the sweat off his forehead, slaps your ass when you walk by. he keeps having to adjust his glasses from leaning down and now he has a streak of dirt across his cheek. you’re useless at this moment, arms behind your back, pretending to be helpful and looking in the engine but you honestly can’t tell who from what. 

“do you want some water? i’ve got a spare bottle inside?”

bakugou hums, “if you don’t mind, baby.”

you open your car door to grab it, throwing it over to him and he catches with ease. he drinks like he hasn’t for days, his adam’s apple bobbing with every swallow and he’s got the nerve to look at you as he does it. it’s like a competition with himself, how fast he finishes it, scrunching the plastic in a single hand. it’s the scars along his arm that really catch your eye, the pink skin tissue wrapped around him like ribbon. it’s so pretty, a reminder of his strength of who he is.

“you’re so dramatic,” you whisper, though it doesn’t come out with as much sass as you intended. bakugou wipes across his mouth with the back of his hand.

his smirk is wicked, “only ‘cause you’re watchin’ me.”

you tap your foot waiting for him to finish with your car, scrolling through your phone, eyeing his chunky bicep in the thin white fabric. you feel electric when he huffs in completion, “‘m done. the leaks stopped though best you call them now to come get it. i’ll drop you to wherever you were going, then i gotta go back to work.”

you pout childishly at that, silly to assume he can drop his whole day for you. you step over to him, hand flat on his chest, “thanks for helping me out.” you flicker your eyes up at him, “i really appreciate it.” 

“yeah?” obsessed doesn’t cut it for bakugou. a grubby hand lands on your hip and he’s feels nervous when you eye him like this. your calculated touches and lingers to get him to do what you want, and fuck, he’s going to do it. 

you nod softly, sliding your hand down his chest and brushing your fingers against his crotch. “i’ll just call them, only be a minute.”

bakugou doesn’t move away whilst you’re on the phone. he leans against your car, pulling you between his legs by your jean belt loops and follows your lips with every word you make. he wants you to be his girlfriend, he wants to be your first call. you laugh over the phone, “yeah, i had someone help with the….” 

you look at him for the answer.

“exhaust box,” bakugou says, hand trailing down to rest on your ass. he doesn’t like being called someone, there’s so much more between you two. at least your baby daddy. he curses under his breath.

you’re even able to woo people with your voice, that fucker on the other end keeping you on the call for longer than needed. bakugou pulls you in closer so you focus on him again. you tilt your head in silent questioning but he doesn’t let anything go, frowning slightly as he starts to kiss along your jaw, palm on your bare waist.

your breath hitches immediately, leaning all your body weight onto him.

“okay, okay, i’ll see you soon. thanks… yep thanks!” you’re quick to hang up, stuffing your phone in your back pocket.

“get inside the car,” you order, managing to make your voice sound somewhat authoritative as bakugou untangles from you. 

“yes, baby,” he grins, climbing into the backseat of your little car. you climb in after, grabbing his head to slam his lips onto yours as soon as your knee presses into the seat cushion. bakugou mumbles against you, “there’s more space in my car.”

you notice how his arm is pressed against kenji’s car seat, his knee is jabbing the back of the drivers seat and if he’s not careful, his head will knock on the ceiling. still, you pout, “you’ve got a car seat too!”

“yeah and there’s still more space, baby.” 

your car is smaller, but you like it, such close quarters with this massive man. he looks even bigger than usual, overgrown limbs and muscled chest. he can barely stretch his arms out, not needing to bend his elbows to touch both sides. you pick up kenji’s seat and you place it in the front passenger seat. 

“there. more space,” you mumble, not giving him time to reply because you’ve got your leg across his lap and bakugou adjusts easily, pushing you back down on the seat to rest his forearms by your head.

he’s never seen you like this, had you like this. usually, it’s him coming onto you, him flirting his way to get a pretty smile from you or looking up your skirt just so you think about him. last time you spoke in the coffee shop, you were still nervous about dating but now you’ve horny and smothering him, bakugou can barely keep track. it makes him harden under his shorts as you climb him like a gym, hands running down his arms, fingers through his hair, a little tug. bakugou wants to take his glasses off so it’s easier to kiss you but you said you liked them, so he’s willing to struggle for the moment.

“i’m too fuckin’ big for this shit,” he mumbles, but you’re looking at him eager and excited and he’s not about to deny you now. until he unbuttons your jeans and you deny him.

“wait. you’re not touching me with your grubby hands,” as much as you’d love him too, the black grime and grease from your engine is seriously putting you off.

“fuck,” bakugou grunts, looking at his palms and grimacing at the dirt all over. why is there always something between you both? you grab him by the collar of his top for another kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and you’re moaning into his mouth. bakugou doesn’t realise you’re slowly pushing him up until he’s up against the seat, hands taped to your waist.

“actually,” and bakugou listens. hanging onto every word you say. “i wanted to do this last time… before you were annoying.”

bakugou’s cheeks flush red, a mixture of his embarrassment and you, you, getting on your knees and slotting yourself between his legs. you’re smiling, a happy little one as your hands run down his tanned thighs in his basketball shorts. it should be him on his knees for you, with your thighs muffling his ears and you on his tongue. 

“you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” bakugou grumbles and if you didn’t know him you’d think he was irritated. maybe he is a little because he’d do anything for you if you asked and once you figure that out it’s game over. “you don’t have to do that.”

“but i want to. i really want to see you come.”

bakugou releases a low fuck as you shuffle down his shorts, just enough to pull out his cock. it’s the look on your face that gets him. you’re excited with your flared eyes, almost too excited as you bite the inside of your cheek. 

to you, this is the first time you’ve ever seen bakugou like this. the first time you had sex, it was rushed, the room was dark and you touched him but didn’t actually see him. now, outdoors and midday you can see everything. the slight lean to the right, his reddened mushroom head and thick veins trailing from bottom to top like a tree branch. bakugou was thick, hefty. exactly like you thought he’d be.

“stop fuckin’ lookin’ like that,” he grunts and he’s about to touch himself, just a stroke but you slap his hand away.

you can see him twitch from that, a few droplets of pre beading out.

“like what?” you grip the base of his cock and the man rumbles, a deep inhale that has him leaning into your grip.

“so fuckin’ excited,” he’s staring at you through half lidded eyes, a palm stroking your cheek softly. he needs to play his cards right with you. he needs to get you right.

you roll your eyes, sitting up on your knees to neatly spit on his head. “what the fuck, baby?” he practically studies your pursed lips, the glob of spit the lands on him and he thinks he could come just from how satisfied you look. lightly wiping your mouth and using your spit to stroke him. your wrist flicks up and gown, creating a smooth rhythm that rings through his body.

“you should be nice to me, ‘ki.”

“you’re throwin’ out all the big guns callin’ me that.”

you squeeze him in your curled hands, just to see him jolt, growl at you. “‘ki? d’you like ‘ki?”

he chuckles like he’s in pain, resting his forearm on his forehead. the sight makes you shuffle on your knees, a dull throb ringing in your clit. “i’d love anythin’ you call me. fuck, just like that, baby.”

you bite down on your lip. you and praise go hand in hand. everything in you lights up, keeping your grip the same pressure, just how he likes.

“i’m doing good, ‘ki?”

“perfect, baby. w-wasn’t expectin’ this today.”

neither were you. when you think he’s as thick as he’s going to get, you open your mouth, flatten your tongue and go down on your baby father. the saltiness from the pre makes you moan and that only causes katsuki to make a jumble of sounds, all positive. bakugou softly caresses your jaw and your lower half heats like a furnace, all ablaze and begging to be touched.

“you’re so pretty like this. all for me, fuck,” 

the compliment only makes you want to impress him more, keeping your fist around him while you focus on his head. licking over his tip and sucking. bakugou looks as if he’s reached his limit, reaching for your hand on his thigh and intertwining his fingers with yours. you’re not surprised he likes holding hands during head.

“if you keep doin’ that, i’m gonna come, baby. you’re doin’ so good, wanna fuckin’ keep you,” he wants to say all types of shit, spill his biggest secrets when you have him like this. ask you to be his girlfriend, ask to move in with him, ask—

you watch how his biceps tense, his abs and pectorals prominent through his thin shirt. his thighs are hard, all pent up energy as his hand drifts to the back of your neck and back to under your jaw.

“c’mon pretty girl, fuck, you’re so—,”

bakugou squeezes your hand tightly before he comes down your throat. he grits his teeth as he does, a rough beastly grunt like its all too overwhelming, staring down at you staring up at him. you take it all, the corner of your eyes watering from lack of air. 

it’s the power that turns you on, the ability to turn one of the strongest men in the world to an exhausted lump in your car. you’re not surprised to see he’s still hard after, pulling you from the ground to sit beside him and slamming his lips to yours.

he can taste himself on your tongue but he’s too carried away to think about anything but you. he pushes you against the car door, slotting between your open legs as you hold his head so he’s unable to leave. you both are a sweaty mess, windows blurred with condensation but the only thing you can think about doing right now is fucking him. feeling him slide into you and filling you up.

until there’s a knock on your window, one that causes you to scream into bakugou’s mouth and bakugou pulls off you with a, “hah?”

your chest is heaving, breasts in bakugou’s face with every breath. “oh shit, i forgot the car guys are coming.” you wipe at your eyes, blinking your raging hormones away, “d’you think they saw me—”

bakugou shakes his head, kissing your forehead and tucking himself away in his underwear. there’s no chance they saw him with his dick out, he was practically stuck to you.

“nah baby, i woulda heard if they pulled up earlier and the windows were fogged” 

he adjusts his glasses on his nose, pulls up your vest where a breast was about to fall out. “d’you want me to talk to them?”

you give him a shy nod, “give me two seconds.”

you fix your hair when bakugou slides out and you  listen to their conversation outside. you laugh behind your palm, you’ve never done anything in a car before besides kissing. definitely not during the day with the chance of being caught. fuck, you hope he didn’t see anything.

when you finally hop out, bakugou’s standing with his arms crossed watching the mechanic look at your engine. he relaxes at the sight of you, bumping you slightly with his side when you stand beside him.

“he didn’t see anything, did he?”

bakugou shakes his head, “nah. he apologised for takin’ so long when we couldn’t turn the air con on in this heat.”

he slings an arm around your shoulder, looking ahead, “i know you’ve been wonderin’ why i haven’t asked you on a date yet.”

you glare up at him, “you think?”

bakugou grins pulling out an envelope from his shorts pocket, “it’s a bit creased from us fuckin’ around but—,”

bakugou’s ugly chicken scrawl is on the front, your name in a black ballpoint pen. “what is it?” you ask, snatching it from his hand.

“so i know it’s not gonna exactly be alone time b-but i thought you’d enjoy it. i was waitin’ for the invitations to come out to ask you to be my plus one.”

you rip open the envelope, surprised to see a red and gold themed invitation. your name in gold cursive, hero gala, this weekend, charity, formal.

you gasp, fighting the urge to jump in your spot, “i’m your plus one to a hero gala? this is like those princess ball events!”

bakugou feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders, thank fuck he asked you. “i usually hate these events, always try and get outta them but i know you like dressin’ up and it’s for a good cause.”

then you read the invite again, slower this time to find the words, charity for disadvantaged children. “is this because of the day i cried? about work?”

bakugou nods, trying to read your expression, “yeah, thought you’d actually be interested in talkin’ to the people there and people are gonna wanna talk to you, seein’ as you do just as much as us heroes do.”

“you’re crazy, bakugou katsuki,” you grin, jabbing his chest. 

of course, he’d do something like this for your first date. have it be luxurious and meaningful, something you would have done without all the glitz and the glamour.

“so are you comin’? is that okay?” he’s squeezing you to him with your neck in the crook of his elbow, looking down at you to finally gather your thoughts. “our next date will be just us, promise.”

you’re nodding before he finishes his sentence, “yeah, yes. this is really cool, i’m looking forward to it.”

bakugou grins, kissing you cheek, “good.” then he eyes the mechanic surrounded by multiple tool boxes, his legs practically dangling out of your car, “i bet you he’s gonna say the same shit i said. your car’s going in the dump, sweetheart.”

you slap his chest, “don’t say that! wishful thinking!”

“i’ll just buy you a new one.”

“do not do that, katsuki.”

“what if i say it’s for kenji?”

“kenji can’t drive—,”

“hey dynamight, miss yn,” the mechanic stumbles over, a man the same age as you and bakugou, midnight black hair and freckles. you don’t miss how he stares at you, longer than necessary then he looks to bakugou to talk about your car. “so i’m sorry to say i’m probably going to have to take it to the shop—,”

“talk to yn, it’s her car,” bakugou says in a grunt. you do a closed lipped smile at the guy and he blushes, a burgundy red flooding his cheeks. bakugou doesn’t try to hide his muttered, “fuck sake.”

“sorry, it’s because i was talking to you first… sorry. so i’m going to have to take your car to the shop, to see if i can find extra parts to fix it but it’s looking likely we’re going to have to dump it. i’m not sure how it even lasted this long.”

you pout at your little red car, hands holding bakugou’s forearm on your shoulder. you’ve had it for years, the first car you’ve driven kenji in, getting it probably third-hand online off of a second hand site. you’re going to miss her.

“oh okay. thank you for all your help, i’ll stay in contact,” you nod, you won’t admit it to bakugou, but you knew it was her time. “i’ll just take out my stuff and you can take her.”

bakugou helps to bring kenji’s car seat into his car, along with your bag, spare car blanket and any other bits and bobs you had lying around. 

“he wanted you. fuckin’ idiot. should have blasted him into next week,” despite carrying everything your car carried, bakugou still managed to open your car door, waiting for you to sit and slamming it behind you.

when he finally settles in the driver's seat, you watch your car roll away, attached to the mechanic’s truck. “he was cute.”

“hah? what the fuh—,”

you hold your baby father’s jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, amused at how quickly his face can go from beautiful to scrunched up and annoyed.

“i’m joking. not as cute as you in those glasses.”

now it’s bakugou’s turn for all the blood in his body to rise to his cheeks, looking away from you despite you holding him. you really love this seven o’clock shadow, the prickle beneath your fingers.

before he has a chance to reply verbally, your eyes light up in remembrance.

“i’m going to have to ask your mum to look after kenji this weekend. my mum’s on a city break,” then you grin slightly, tomfoolery brewing inside of you. bakugou kisses your palm, starting his car, “this why you don’t date your baby father, i usually leave him with you when i go on dates.”

he swings his head to glare at you, “why are you insisin’ on botherin’ me? should have had our date at a farm and i’d leave you there.”

you giggle and bakugou’s hand finds your thigh as he begins to drive, “where am i takin’ you? i already know the agency is blowin’ up my phone.”

you huff, sue you for wanting to spend more time with him, “just take me home, i had a hair appointment originally but i rescheduled it. you sure i can’t interest you in perhaps, coming back home with me, laying in bed… perhaps naked?”

he grips your bare thigh tightly, taking his eyes off the road for a second to glance at you, “who knew you’d be such a menace? i fuckin’ wish i could but i swear next time i’m gonna have you over my knee.”

your eyes widen, “katsuki!” 

you’d enjoy that, a lot actually.

“but thank you for earlier, i really fuckin’ enjoyed that. i hate leavin’ you like this.”

untouched, unsatisfied but you shake your head, “you don’t have to thank me for that. it’s sweet you think you do but next time.”

your last two words make the tension visible in the car, a hot bubble you’re both trapped in. bakugou sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and stares over at yours, “yeah baby, next time.”

katsuki: If you do want a new dress send me it and I’ll buy it for you

katsuki: Don’t buy one yourself 

You: noooo it’s fine i already have one i haven’t worn yet

katsuki: Can’t wait to see you baby gonna be so fucking pretty 

katsuki: Also my mum can look after Kenj

katsuki: She’s gonna ask so many fucking questions 

PART 4 / BABY DADDY MASTERLIST / SOMETHING ELSE

likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox

you hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on in the living room after putting kenji to bed. you’ve got some time to yourself after your shift and you can only spend this time ruminating on the multiple possibilities. you’ve got the television on at low volume just for something in the background and you use the light to locate your wine glass. 

you know it’s the alcohol, the second glass of wine that’s making you think of all your regrets with the man. but still as you sit here, you don’t know the answers. what if you date and you find out you’re not compatible? what if bakugou doesnt even want to date? you aren’t in the position to have flings with kenji around. what if you get kenji used to the feeling of daddy around, in the house, waking up beside mummy and then he’s gone. you’re not ready for a boyfriend, a partner, a…. you just know that kenji needs his father.

a week without anything from katsuki and kenji is starting to ask questions. he’s missed swimming class because you work on the day bakugou usually takes him. the weekend sleepover that was planned never happened and every morning kenji wakes up with a pout as he drags his deku green bag across your kitchen like a pet snail.

“papa today? i want to see papa,” he mumbles, cheeks puffy, clutching a tuft of his own hair.

to prepare kenji for katsuki’s long trips, the older would spend days in advance showing him photos of where he’s going with a child friendly version as to why. kenji would sit on his lap and click through photos online, photos of his daddy in the country if he’s been there before. would promise him a gift, answer all the questions his son has. he’d give him the time period, note it on the calendar and you would too on the one you’ve got at your house.

but the time you originally wrote was seven days ago and you’re still working out the right words to say to your son.

“papa’s still working on his trip, honey,” you bend down to kenji’s height, because don’t you wanna see papa too, “he’s working hard being big and brave for us! you’ve got to be brave too waiting for him.”

your sweet boy gives a small nod, “okay… miss him…. hope papa brings me a bear.”

you laugh, kissing his forehead and standing up, “a bear?”

kenji hums, “we watch bear show! he says he will get one. for me.”

you’ve got no clue what he means here but it humours you all the same. you quickly pack his lunch in his bento, a gift from bakugou’s family and slide it into his bag, “okay! maybe something smaller than that. remember granny is picking you up today.”

nothing helps. not taking on extra shifts, making sure kenji spends his time with family, not the wine in the evenings and definitely not leaving the news on twenty four seven.

this is when your worst thought materialised before you, pictured on your television like you manifested it.

“DYNAMIGHT MISSING IN ACTION”, the bottom of the screen reads, letters practically dancing. you turn up the volume for the news reader who sits safely in the studios, a desert pictured behind him, along with a frowning professional photo of your son’s father.

“pro hero dynamight is currently missing in action after being dispatched in west bravia last week. he was planned to face the water villain who is yet to go by any name. may we keep him in our thoughts and wish he gets back safely.”

then the news continues as normal, news about heroes starting new programmes for children and the decrease in robberies. does nobody care? is nobody else worried? you throw back your red wine, thankful kenji is spending the night with his grandparents. he should never see you like this.

your doorbell rings, along with a knock. bakugou’s mother would have texted you if she was bringing kenji back early. your friends are probably asleep and your family would have called. you have half the mind to ignore it, roll back into your blanket cocoon of grief but you have to get the next bottle of wine and the cookies in your kitchen.

the doorbell goes off again, three knocks in rapid succession against your door.

“what the fuck?” you whisper, whipping off your blanket and stalking over. “sounding like the police with these knocks—“

the man from the tv, wheat blonde hair with ruby gemstone eyes who is supposed to be missing in action is currently found right outside your door. the smirk irritates you. the way  he rakes his hand through his locks makes your eyeball twitch and the fact he smells freshly washed, like fucking sandalwood makes a growl brew down your throat.

“hey sweetheart, sorry for not textin’ i—,”

you know that strength they say mothers get for when their child is in danger or they have to carry multiple things at once including their child on the hip? apparently, it’s also reserved for stupid, reckless baby fathers.

you grip the front of bakugou’s khaki henley long sleeve and drag him into your apartment. he lets you do it, laughter bubbling out of him.

“woah, woah, you missed me that much?” 

it’s not until you push him back on your closed door that his smile slowly drops from the look on your face. anger doesn’t cover it, perhaps something akin to a raging fury blooms inside you at the sight of bakugou katsuki. your eyebrows are sharp, chest heaving— partly just from shock. your knuckles are clenched so hard that your palms might be bleeding.

“how fucking dare you do this to us! what the fuck, katsuki! i thought you were…,” you exhale shakily, blinking more than needed, “i thought you were…”

“thought i was what?” he asks and his voice is smooth, like fresh lake water down your throat. bakugou knows, he always fucking knows, his hand resting on your waist.

“dead,” you’re proud of yourself for not crying because you already have today and the day before that. you think you’ve run out of tears. “i thought you were dead katsuki.”

he shakes his head softly and you notice the lack of product in his hair as a tendril falls between his eyes. his cooler hand from being outside burns your hot cheek. 

“it’s gonna take a whole more than what i handled out there to kill me. you know i’m the number one hero?”

you shake his hand off your face but you step forward, your fist that holds his shirt now in between your breasts. 

“i’m not playing with you right now. where were you then? why was the news saying you were m.i.a?”

“the fuck? our plane just broke down and we had no service out there to alert anyone. we had to figure it out ourselves. we fought the villain days ago,” he squeezes your waist for reassurance and it only loosens your grip on his shirt, “i’m fine now—,”

“why didn’t you text? call?”

his arm wraps around your waist in a hug, holding you to him as he leans against your front door.

“phone broke. i smashed it on concrete. as soon as i got back i showered and came to see you and kenj. is he here?”

bakugou already knows he isn’t. you wouldn’t let him touch you like this if he was, nor would you be drinking so blatantly. 

you shake your head softly, both your palms resting on his chest. the rage simmers through your bloodstream, only leaving the alcohol you drank earlier.

“at your mum’s. he’s missed you, you’ve missed a lot.”

“i’ll make it up to him,” bakugou says, biting down on his lip. you watch the action, white teeth deep in his pink skin until he lets go, “how much have you drank?”

“what? nothing!” you squeak like he’s going to get you in trouble. your hands slide up his chest and around his neck, fingers interlocking.

“sweetheart…,” he dips down so his face is right beside yours. his sweet musky scent is strongest behind his ears. “i can smell the wine on your breath.”

your eyes narrow though you don’t let go of him, neither does his arm around your waist. 

“i’m allowed to drink after work. i also thought you were dead bare in mind.”

“so you missed me then? tell me you did.”

you huff, resting your forehead on his hard chest and closing your eyes. he’s got you in the best spot, tender and drunk, able to say anything. 

“i think i did. i’ve been thinking about you a lot recently.”

“hmm, yeah?” bakugou responds and he looks as if you’ve offered him the hero of the year award. actually, he's won those multiple times now and you admitting that feels nothing like that. “jump for me.”

“what?” you mumble but bakugou scoops you up, his hands on your ass. naturally, your legs circle around his waist, your breasts right in his face. “i’m not kenji, you don’t have to carry me.”

“shut up and let me,” bakugou grunts, easily yanking off his shoes and walking you to your living room where your blanket lays in a pile across your sofa. the television rumbles a hair removal advert. you cling onto him as he moves, loving the feeling of… him. alive and holding you. 

once bakugou deems the area tidy, moving your blanket, your phone and wine glass to the other side of the table, he sits on your sofa. your eyes widen at the position you’re in, straddling his lap, knees on either side of his hips. he slouches in the cushion, a hand on each of your thighs. 

this is exactly how you got pregnant by this man, why you kissed him and dragged him into a random room two years ago. bakugou katsuki’s wide chest that could supplement a mattress, his long ass eyelashes that have no business being on his face and his paw-like hands that feel like they’re everywhere even when they’re not moving. his eyes are half lidded as he gets comfortable, his focus staying on your face. 

“tell me what you’ve been thinkin’ about.”

you sniff, hands back on his chest. you can feel every dip and curve of him. where else should your hands go?

“you.”

he chuckles, head leaning back on the sofa, “yeah, baby you said that. what about me?”

you inhale a deep breath, fingers coming up to play with the buttons of his henley. khaki green is an insane combination with his blonde hair, his scarlet eyes. “what are you doing, katsuki?”

“askin’ you a question. i missed you too. thought about you a fuck load.”

that has you glancing up at him, “really?”

“don’t play dumb. you know how i feel about you.”

you chew your lip. sure… you know there’s sexual tension between you both. how you’re constantly touching, how he’s always smiling with you. pet names are always thrown in conversation and he talks to you with the same softness he does with kenji. you haven’t seen him talk like this with his friends or colleagues.

bakugou holds your stare, refusing to take anything back. it’s too intense, raw. so you’re back to looking at his buttons.

“well i was thinking you were dead for a while. hated you for a bit because i had to have a kid with a pro hero who risks his body for the world. then i was pissed i didn’t know much about your friends or who i should contact about you,” bakugou squeezes your thighs, pondering on what you say.

“i’ll introduce you to my friends. send you their numbers if you want,” his hands move to the fat of your hips as he drags you closer to him. any closer and you’re sitting on his crotch, “sorry about the job, baby. now i’ve started i can’t quit.”

you match his smile though it drops slightly. your index finger jabs the centre of his chest, “you can’t die. for kenji’s sake.”

“i’m not gonna. no chance.”

the pure confidence makes your whole body hum, has your hand sneaking up to curl around his neck. he lets you, leaning into your palm. 

“i thought about kissing you. more than i should.” bakugou’s eyes widen. fucking finally, something from you. admittance of something. “thought how i would’ve regretted not having kissed you again since… since two years ago.”

“that is a long fuckin’ time.” he grunts, voice gravelly. he stares at your lips, your tongue swiping along the bottom. 

bakugou’s all fidgety now, squeezing your hips, lifting his so you sit closer and closer to his crotch. both your hands slide up his neck to the side of his face holding him in position. 

kenji’s not here. the wine has your lower half abuzz, his hands cradle you and he’s alive and gorgeous. you know he wants it, perhaps even more than you. bakugou’s just waiting for the green flag, a go ahead. you might regret this but you were going to regret this is you didn’t and fuck, you just want to give in.

“do i have to make the first move again?”

that’s all it takes for bakugou to shove you onto his hardening cock and cup the back of your head to meet your lips with his. it starts as only a peck. his moisturised lips, something coconut flavoured with the remnants of wine on yours. 

as sweet as it is, pecking isn’t enough. one peck from him, turns to three before he groans, hand slipping to your jaw to carefully inch it open. 

“fuck baby,” his lips brush against yours at every word and heat spreads between your legs, “been dreamin’ about this shit.”

you want to laugh, “it’s just a kiss—,”

bakugou tilts his head and slides his tongue into your mouth. so… this is exactly what you’ve been dreaming about. it feels delicious, neurons and electrons lighting up inside your brain in delight. he licks inside your mouth and the groan he makes along with his hand sneaking under your top makes you only open up wider. your mouth, your legs. 

there’s one gush of breath that’s being transferred between the both of you. he gently bites down on your bottom lip, sucking the flesh before tugging it with his teeth. it’s not just a kiss with bakugou, its akin to animalistic, how he handles you like he needs you and he’s been waiting. your breath is hot and you can taste the spearmint gum he probably chewed on the way here. you feel crazy, tilting your head the opposite way to him to suck on his tongue, it feels like you’re an inch away from eating him alive. every grunt he makes is paired with a squeeze of your waist, hip, thigh. every time you part for just a second of air, bakugou watches impatiently, already kissing you back to him.

your bodies shuffle against each other, in a rhythm that only sings between you both. your arms clutch around his neck in desperation, like he will up and go any second. you swear you don’t mean to but your hips begin to grind down on his crotch.

“fuck,” bakugou moans, you’ve got no bra on under your sweatshirt and the underside of your breast is so smooth under his fingertips. “can’t believe we waited two fuckin years for this.”

bakugou’s talented, guiding your hips to press down on his cock. it’s too much for you, him sucking on your tongue, fondling your breast and pinching your nipple. you duck out of the kiss, resting your head on his shoulder beginning to really press down on him.

“oh fuck katsuki,” you moan, focused on chasing your high and that’s it, “touch me, touch me more.”

“you’re fuckin’ angelic, baby,” 

bakugou feels as if he’s been dropped off at heaven for the evening. your strength when you pushed up against the door to you falling apart on his lap. you, the woman who he hasn’t stopped thinking about for two years. there’s still so much of you he needs to work out but he’ll take anything he can get.

“where, baby?” 

you feel like a teenager dry humping bakugou like this but fuck, it’s doing the job for now. your clit bumps against his slacks in your thin pyjama bottoms, the friction so sweet. pleasure hits you in soft waves, rolling through your veins.

“my tits. shit, i’m so hot right now,” you whine, and bakugou will come in his underwear if you talk any more.

he tugs your sweatshirt over your head, throwing it on the seat beside him and he doesn’t spare a second before suctioning his lips over your left breast.

you sound close to tears, a bundle of nerves as you cry, whine and moan. you hold him at the nape of his neck to your chest. sweetness prickles through you as you arch into his wet mouth. your eyes roll to the back of your head when he sucks harder.

“why are you so good at this? you feel so… i’m gonna come,” 

he moves to your next breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple and sucking. he rolls his thumb against the perked point of your left breast, “you’re everything baby. take what you need from me. unbelievable i’ve got you like this.”

you might have to keep bakugou katsuki locked in your cupboard. you can’t let him do this to anyone else. it’s as if he’s just spewing his train of thoughts, letting you take a ride in his head. you hold onto his bicep which only tenses under your grip.

“let me eat you after this. wanna taste your pussy,” 

you know bakugou’s got a nasty mouth, he had one the first time you had sex but hearing it again, has your orgasm rippling through you. your hips move with one goal in mind and bakugou lets you use him however you want. fuck, you’re going to drive him insane.

you throw your head back, tits in his face as you cry for him. electricity sparks under your skin, delight spreading over you like cake batter in a tin.

“you good, baby? gonna sit on my face?”

you rest your forehead on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath, “shut up katsuki.”

you’ve just dry humped your baby daddy to completion and his cock is rock hard beneath you. 

“don’t make me beg, sweetheart. i know you’re fuckin’ soaked,” he grunts like every word is painful, coated in need.

you lift up to look at him, his fingers hooking mindlessly in the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. he looks aroused out of his mind, cheeks flushed, chest heaving like he also came. his lips are bitten and raw all because of you and his ruby eyes look as if a shadow has been cast over them. he looks devilish, deific, he looks like he’d drag you to paradise to commit filthy acts to you.

“i can’t sit on your face, that’s way too much.”

“too much for who?” he slurs. you’ve got no underwear on either. it’s like you knew he was going to touch you today. one hand sneaks to rub at your ass, his other sliding up your body to your breast, still wet with his spit.

but now your body heats for a whole other reason. “that’s too… intimate, katsuki.”

“you birthed my baby, yn.” your heart leaps in your chest, “we can try. let me taste you and we can stop if you don’t want more.”

the fact he wants you this bad only turns you on. you don’t think you’ve ever been this horny in your life. the combination of all the touches, the flirty conversations, the alcohol, the fact you thought he was dead. 

you want to test him.

“say please.”

bakugou lifts his head up, raising his eyebrows at you. “really now?”

you hum, placing your thumb on his lip and pulling it down to reveal his straight bottom set of teeth. he looks as if he wants to eat you alive. “say please can you sit on my face?”

you let go of his lip, focused on how it pops back into place and curves into a smirk. “fuck my life.” but he continues, “yn, please can you put your sweet pussy on my face? let me eat you out till you cry my name?”

you give him a strong nod in reply, giggles spilling behind your hand, “take your top off.”

like a good dog, he listens. grabbing his top from the back of his neck and throwing it right by your sweatshirt. you moan at the sight of his bare chest, hands drawn to his chest like magnets. “you’re so sexy—,”

bakugou chuckles, he cannot handle you, “it’s not about me, baby.”

he manhandles you in position, shifting his body to lay back on your sofa and dragging a cushion to rest his head upon. you’re still on his lap.

“take those off and sit on me. c’mon now.”

if anyone asks, you do it because he let you cry on him the other day and he’s always so good at reading your emotions. that he always touches you so softly, he’s always patient and waits for a sign before he starts anything. if anyone asks, you do it because your baby father has been so painfully attractive since the day you met him and you really, really want to feel his tongue.

you lift off him, refusing to break eye contact with his molten pupils. you shimmy out of your bottoms, completely naked before him though he only makes you feel sexy, perfect, like the only woman in the world. the grin the media complains they never see, takes over his face and you feel lucky to be on the opposite side of it.

“okay, i’m going to just…”

bakugou holds your thighs, adjusting you right over his face. you literally see his eyes roll back as you hold onto the arm rest before you. every thing about this is lewd, inappropriate, how he parts your pussy with his thumbs.

“i can fuckin’ smell you. you’ve leaked all over yourself.”

there’s shine across your inner thighs and bakugou is unbearably rock hard.

“if you're gonna talk like that…”

you look down at him past your breasts, between your legs and everything you say is fruitless. he’s still in control, even beneath you. 

“you’re gonna do what, baby? you love this shit the same way i do,”

two hands on your ass push and seat you right over his mouth. instantly, you moan at how close he is, how good he looks under you. you squeeze your thighs around his head as he laps your orgasm from a minute ago, his hands on your waist, the two years worth of tension.  

it’s like angels have taken over your body, rolling your hips over his tongue and you feel the vibration from his moans. 

“oh my god, katsuki,” the words are stolen from you, breathless, “this is insane.”

it’s a good thing he can’t talk because you know he’d be saying some cocky shit to you.

“just like that, oh shit,” he sucks on your clit and like a puppet, every touch has you moving, fingers tugging at a tuft of his hair. “you’re so good at this, fuck.”

you don’t mean to glance down at him, but you can’t help it as his hands sneak up your body to squeeze your breasts. you’re going to have this sight scratched behind your eyelids for days. bakugou looks pussydrunk, worse than you with your glasses of wine. his eyes are barely open, as his throat bobs from swallowing and tongue jabs inside your centre to taste more of you. thank fuck, he can’t talk right now, you’d be coming all over his face.

he does quirk an eyebrow at you looking at him and you feel his cheeks smile under your thighs. a particularly harsh suck on your clit and you’re arching into his mouth, stretching back so your arms are on his lower stomach. it’s the best position for you to grind into his mouth. your body feels fluid like a dancer, chasing every spark of pleasure that comes your way. you’ve got half the mind to regret not filming how you both look right now, your body beautifully curved over him, hips grinding like they’ve got a mind of their own.

just imagining how picturesque you look, how offensively skilled bakugou is with his tongue, his hands gripping the fat of your ass, you orgasm all over his face.

“fuck katsuki! o-oh, shit!”

this one hits you harder than the last, your body jolting unpredictably, tensing with a bite of pain. but then it’s pure contentment, spilling down your body like honey and you’re having trouble sitting up straight. 

bakugou’s not missing a drop of anything that comes from you, lapping up everything with the same intensity as when he downs water after a mission. he slowly rocks your hips against him as your body exhausts and when your hand messily pushes against his forehead he knows to let go of you.

“you like that, sweetheart?”

you’re all jelly and no bones, limply nodding and crawling up to lay next to your baby father to hug him. bakugou notes this deep in the back of his mind, you’re touchy after an orgasm, your leg locking over his waist.

“i’m not trying to make your head bigger than it already is,” you mumble against his chest, enjoying how his arm wraps around your back.

bakugou wipes across his mouth with his forearm before pecking your forehead, sniffing your hair, “you already have. you were only saying my name when i had my tongue on your cunt.”

you slap your hand over his mouth, reaching up on your forearm to look down at him. you know you must look like a sweaty mess, hair definitely not how it first looked when you met him at the door. you’ve not got a scratch of makeup on and you’re closer to being asleep than awake. bakugou can’t imagine it not being you, him and kenji for the rest of his life.

“you only talk like that to see how i react,” you drag your hand off his face, sliding it down his chest to his waistband. his fat rounded cock is heavy in his slacks. you give him a light squeeze.

bakugou moves without meaning to, hips jolting, breath hitching. 

“that’s the point, baby. gets you touchin’ my cock,” still he manages to find a smirk. hand running down your body to squeeze your ass.

you roll your eyes because fuck if you don’t want him. in your mouth, inside you. you’ve been dreaming about fucking him and if it’s anything like last time, well… you hope you don’t get pregnant again. 

“what do you want, i wanna—,”

“lemme take you on a date.”

it’s like all the air has been vacuum sucked out of the room. your eyes widen, jaw slightly drops. you sit up properly, hand slipping away from his crotch.

bakugou sits up too on his forearms, eyes never leaving your face. he’s constantly trying to read your mind, study your body language. you’re drawing away from him, like you did when you left his office, your mind on overdrive right before him.

he holds your chin to face him and your pupils are darting away to look at anything but him.

“look at me. what’s wrong with that?”

you blink, eyebrows furrowing like the words are trying to form in your brain.

“i just… i haven’t… i can’t…”

“baby, you really need to work on your explanations here,” bakugou laughs but it’s lacking the same soul from before. it’s like you’ve spent so much time thinking about him, about what you want and now that an option is offered to you, you’re stuck.

“katsuki, i don't know,” you whisper, childishly closing your eyes so you don’t have to face him.

“it’s just a date… unless this isn’t serious to you. you just wanted to fuck?” 

the defeat in bakugou makes your eyes snap open, palms pressing down on his chest, “no, no, it’s just… i need to think about kenji.”

“do you think i’m not?” he’s quick to volley.

“i don’t know what you’re thinking, katsuki!” you exclaim and he lets you. waits for you to continue. in a quieter voice, “i just can’t have something go wrong between us and kenji sees that. i don’t want him being confused and growing up seeing mummy and daddy like each other and then not or seeing us being on and off. i want him stable.”

bakugou knows you and him both grew up differently. your past is woven in your thoughts and how you want kenji to be. 

“so you wouldn’t want to try? i’m not askin’ to move in with you. just a date, testin’ us out.”

you would be lying if you haven’t been on dates since kenji was born. but they never lasted more than two and they definitely never met your son. having a date with bakugou, you know will become multiple and if it ends up going wrong, you won’t be able to escape your baby father. he can only be kenji’s father and you don’t want that getting confused.

so you slowly shake your head, “i’m sorry, i just… it’s all or nothing and i’m not sure i’m ready for all yet.”

bakugou hates that he understands. he loves how kenji is the centre of your world but as much as he hates the fact that kenji could have two married parents and still grow up fucked up. or kenji could have a co-parent situation and grow up fine. there’s no promising. fuck, he knows he grew up with two married parents and he’s all sorts of fucked. but you’re grasping for control here, as much as you can in how kenji is reared. he can’t blame you.

you grab your sweatshirt from across the sofa, plopping his long sleeve in his lap. you pull the clothing over your head and look for your pyjama bottoms you left on the floor.

bakugou still hasn’t put his shirt back on, “but what if we are good together? we made kenji and he’s a good kid. we can date and end on good terms even if we don’t—,”

but you’re already shaking your head, decision made. you stand up to shuffle your pyjama bottoms on, tiredness settling through your body. “i don’t want to string you along but i’ll think about it. i do like you katsuki, i’m just not sure—,” 

“it’s fine,” bakugou grunts, pride smashed and bleeding out his chest. he shoves his top on, springing up and making his way to your front door. you slowly follow behind him, grateful for how he stops. “i’ll pick up kenji from my mum’s, spend the weekend with him and take him swimming. i’ll text you details.”

you’re two metres apart. you step closer, arms hugging your body. he’s already pulled his shoes on.

he speaks to the door because you’ve dragged his heart across the room tonight, “and to set the record straight, i would be so careful with you knowing kenji could be hurt by our actions. wouldn’t let him have a clue until we’re ready. but i’m not gonna wait for you. i already have for two years now.”

two years? 

bakugou unlocks your front door and slips out, quietly closing it behind him. 

you stare at the wooden frame for a second longer than needed before slowly spinning around to drag yourself to bed. you already know you’re not getting much sleep tonight.

sure you’ve had a crush on him since you’ve met him but actively wanting to date, be partners? you never even knew he’s felt like that since you’ve met. this new infomation only makes you stuck in the same position as before, unsure whether you want commitment.

the more you ruminate the more you figure, it would be easier to at least try… to know for sure you don’t work? keep it a secret from kenji?

you roll over in your bed, desperate for some sleep.

---

PART 3 / BABY DADDY MASTERLIST / PART 5

likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox

you pick up a little crop top from the rack and hold it up with a smile.

“this cute?” you ask sweetly.

eren doesn’t answer right away—his eyes scan the shirt, then drop to your waist, your hips, your thighs. back to your face. he licks his lips.

“yeah,” he says low. “you like it? i’ll get it for you.”

like okay. why does he have to look at you like that.

you nod and try to focus on the jewelry spread in front of you, but the second you do, you feel his hands slide around your waist. his chest brushes your back, lips right against your ear as he murmurs,

“let’s get matching ones.”

you shiver. this man wants to turn you into a problem.

and it’s not even noon yet.

you close your eyes and sigh. you love your man. but—why is he trying to have you creaming in your panties this early in the day? can you live? can you shop in peace? can you not be ogled like a dessert tray?

because eren be looking at you like you’re the last fucking meal on earth. and the worst part? you like it.

you both keep walking, arms linked, buying little trinkets and snacks and whatever else catches your eye. cute, wholesome, soft. but the beach? yeah, deciding to head to the beach might’ve been your worst decision yet.

why? because your man is a menace.

and right now, he looks like he’s two seconds from fucking you in the sand.

you’re trying to relax. trying to bask in the morning sun, sip your juice, and mind your peaceful-ass business. but eren? eren has his own agenda. he’s behind you on the towel, kissing your neck, his hands everywhere—gripping your thighs, smoothing over your waist, palming your ass.

“eren,” you giggle, breathless, “relax… we’re outside.”

he kisses right below your ear. “so?”

then bites your sweet spot. slow. deliberate.

your breath hitches. your eyes almost roll back.

god. you swear he wants you ruined.

maybe sex on the beach wouldn’t be that bad.

would you get arrested? maybe.

but damn—he’s making it so hard to behave.

you shake your head. girl, calm down. you’re in public. he’s trying to slide into your bikini bottoms like you’re in a damn hotel suite, not in front of people and the entire shoreline.

you try to focus. but your body is betraying you.

you’re probably soaked through these bikini bottoms already.

maybe—maybe if you go into the water, it’ll hide the fact that your man got you this damn horny at 10:43 a.m.

you wade into the water, hoping the ocean will cool you down. not just from the heat, but from the throbbing mess between your legs that your fiancé caused.

maybe if you swim far enough, you’ll get lucky and a little current will drag you away from the problem.

the problem? eren.

your fine, menacing, can’t-keep-his-hands-off-you fiancé.

but when you glance over your shoulder… oh god.

he’s coming toward you.

water glistening on his chest. jaw clenched. lip between his teeth.

why is he looking at you like that?

like he’s starving. like you’re the meal.

“hey,” you say, voice going a little high. nervous.

“hey,” he murmurs back, eyes dropping to your boobs in that bikini.

he bites his lip again.

you nearly moan.

no. nope. stay strong. stay focused. you’re in public.

but then he gets to you. grabs your waist underwater.

pulls you in slow, smooth, like he’s done it a hundred times.

and he kisses you.

not just a kiss. one of those kisses. the ones that make your knees weak.

and then his mouth is on your neck.

why is he kissing your neck?! he knows that’s your weakness.

“eren,” you breathe, pulling back, desperate. “oh, look! fish.”

your finger shoots out, pointing to absolutely nothing.

girl… not you lying. not you trying to escape your man like he’s not about to be your husband.

you can’t let him fold you in the damn ocean!

“what fish, baby?” he says, playing along, but his voice is low and teasing.

he leans into your neck again. his breath sends goosebumps across your skin.

his hand squeezes your ass underwater like it belongs to him (because it does).

you bite your lip. your heart’s racing. your thighs clench.

“you’re doing too much,” you mumble, avoiding his eyes.

he smirks, tilts your chin up. “i’m not even doing enough.”

oh.

oh, you’re done for.

you want to fold so bad. give in. let him have his way.

but you’re still looking around, scanning the beach like the lifeguard’s gonna catch you getting publicly seduced.

this man really got you shy. flustered. wet in every way possible.

“you’re doing too much,” you mumble again, pulling away as eren’s mouth brushes behind your ear, whispering something nasty about what he’s gonna do to you tonight.

you pretend you didn’t hear it. your thighs, however? heard every syllable.

“let’s go get food,” you say quickly, trying to shake the heat off you like a wet dog.

he grins. “you tryna run from me?”

“no, i’m tryna not get fucked on the beach.”

he lets you go—for now.

you make it to the beachside restaurant. cute setup, ocean view, cold drinks. there’s music playing. you should be relaxed.

but you’re not, because this man across the table from you won’t stop looking at you.

“is your food good?” you ask, stabbing your fork into your food even though you can feel your appetite slowly crumbling under the weight of his fuck-me eyes.

“yeah.”

he doesn’t look at his plate.

he’s looking at you.

your voice is shaky. “you enjoying yourself?”

he chews, shrugs. “mm-hmm. but you look better than anything on this menu.”

you glare at him. “eren.”

he raises an eyebrow. doesn’t say anything. just stares.

his thumb slowly rubs along his glass like he’s imagining doing the same thing to you.

you’re spiraling. looking at the sea like please, god, if you love me, let a mermaid rise up and kidnap me.

is this how it’s gonna be when we get married? is this your forever fate—being devoured by your husband with his eyes at every damn meal?

after lunch, you spot a little stand selling popsicles and point to it like it’s salvation.

“i need something cold,” you say.

he smirks. “you sure do.”

you ignore him.

you both get popsicles yours is strawberry, his is mango.

you’re focused on yours, finally thinking, okay, peace at last.

but then you look up.

and he’s watching you.

not even doing anything extra—just licking slowly, biting into the top of his popsicle, watching your mouth wrap around yours.

and the eye contact? criminal.

you pull it away from your mouth, eyes wide.

“…is yours not nice?” you ask, confused.

he shrugs. “mine’s fine.”

but he’s looking at you like he’s about to drop to his knees in public.

and the way you have to suck on it just to keep it from dripping??

you do it once, absently, and his eyes darken. he shifts his hips like he’s adjusting himself.

you blink. “eren.”

he licks his popsicle, slow as hell. “what, baby?”

“can you not?”

“not what?”

“not look at me like that.”

he grins like the menace he is.

“sorry. can’t help it. you look too good with something in your mouth.”

your soul LEAVES your body.

you stare at him in betrayal. “i came here to relax.”

“i came here to ruin your life.”

so right now you’re taking your sweet ass time walking back to the hotel room. why, you may ask? because you know your fate. you’re about to get fucked out of your fucking mind and you don’t know if you’re ready for that. you might not have a spine after this. so you’re stalling. pointing at random ass shit like, “look… a crab.” and he’s just staring at you like. be serious.

“you better get to that room,” he mutters.

girl he don’t care about that crab. you’re literally pointing at a shell and calling it a rare sea creature. you’re walking slow like the hotel is a haunted house and he’s just walking next to you, hands in his pockets, unbothered. not speaking. he knows what’s about to happen. he’s waiting on it. you’re delaying the inevitable.

you finally get to the room and he’s unlocking the door, but now you wanna stop outside and look at the view. “i just wanna take it in for a second,” you lie. girl. be real.

“okay,” he says, dry. he’s so patient it’s scary.

“okay… i’m coming in now.”

you walk in like nothing’s gonna happen. like he hasn’t been eye-fucking you all day. he hasn’t touched you once and you’re starting to think maybe he forgot? maybe you’re safe? like wow. maybe he just loves you and you were projecting. you sit down like normal. take off your shoes. start making yourself comfortable again like he isn’t standing behind you like a fucking NPC waiting to trigger the next level.

you turn your head. he’s just standing there.

“…hello?” you ask, weak.

he doesn’t blink. “hi.”

“you good?” you smile nervously.

“i’m good.”

“…why are you staring at me like that?”

he shrugs. “you know why.”

you don’t even respond. you just stare, cheeks warm, because yeah. you do. and when he kisses you—oh. it’s over. you feel it in your toes. the way his mouth is on yours like he’s been starving all day and this is what he’s been craving.

your brain is short circuiting. like wait. it’s actually happening. you start panicking and getting excited at the same time like girl he’s not even fucking you yet and you’re already so wet. like it might go through the bed. you haven’t even touched the sheets. you’re just standing there. heart racing. pussy throbbing. like oh wow. you’re in danger.

you don’t even get a warning.

he’s pulling your bikini bottoms down like he’s been waiting his whole life to get them off you. no patience. no teasing. just hunger. like, damn—okay. they’re tossed to the side without care, and you slip your top off too, trying to match the mood, but he’s already laying back, licking his lips like you’re a fucking treat.

“sit on my face.”

you blink. “huh?”

he grabs your thigh, his eyes heavy, dark. “i said sit. on my face.”

and it’s the way he says it—slow, deep, like a promise—that makes your body move before your brain catches up. you straddle his chest, easing up closer, still hovering a little because you’re shy and cute and trying to keep your dignity—please. he pulls you down like he paid for it.

and then… he starts.

no easing into it. just full-on, filthy head. tongue all up in it, lips wrapped tight around your clit like it’s his. and it is. the first suck alone knocks the breath out of you. he moans into it, like he missed this. like he’s been starving and you’re the only thing on the menu. it’s wet, it’s messy, it’s obscene.

he’s slurping.

loud. sloppy. disrespectful. your thighs are already trembling and it’s been, what—two minutes? you try to lift off a little, overwhelmed, and he grips your ass to pull you right back down. like no, we’re not done here.

you’re holding onto the headboard, the sheets, nothing. your moans are borderline cries at this point. every flick of his tongue, every suck of that sensitive spot—your body jerks like electricity’s running through it. he’s locked in. like he wants you to suffocate him.

and he’s not just eating it. he’s feasting.

his face is coated. your thighs are soaked. and every time you grind, his tongue meets you halfway like it’s tryna follow you inside your own damn body. and the way he keeps going, like he enjoys watching you fall apart like this, it’s almost too much. almost.

“fuck—baby—why are you eating her like that…” you whimper.

he spanks your ass, firm and fast. “shut up.”

your whole spine shivers.

you can’t even hold it in anymore—you’re creaming all over his face, moaning like it’s the only language you know. your hips start moving on their own. and he loves that. groaning into your pussy, eating you through every twitch and gasp like it’s his life’s purpose. he licks up the middle one more time and sucks that clit like it’s something sweet, and baby—you break.

your head falls back, body jerking, voice high and shaking. he holds you there. lets you ride it out. doesn’t stop until your body gives up and your legs collapse over his shoulders. and even then, he kisses it soft like a thank-you.

and when you look down at him—glossy, breathless, soaked from the nose down?

he smiles.

and you know he’s not even close to done.

you don’t even know how you ended up on all fours. one second you were laying pretty, catching your breath, and now? you’re ass-up, face-down, pillow gripped.

and he’s behind you—calm, slow, smug. rubbing his tip right between your folds like he’s got all the time in the world. not putting it in. just there. tracing the same path over and over, watching you twitch, watching you wait.

“please…” you whisper.

he leans down and licks up your spine. slow. nasty. from your lower back to your shoulder. his voice is low, right in your ear. “what was that?”

you bury your face in the sheets. “put it in.”

he drags it along your slit one more time—just to be a menace.

“say it properly.”

your whole body’s burning. you can feel him, hard and ready and right there, but he won’t move until you say it. and you do. because you’re desperate now. “please fuck me.”

and that’s all it takes.

he grips your hips. spits on it once. then pushes in with one deep, slow stroke—so deep your mouth falls open. you don’t even moan at first. just air. heat. stretch. full.

then the moan comes.

and once he bottoms out? it’s over.

the pace starts slow—teasing, smooth, a little too gentle for the way you’re clenching. but that doesn’t last. he grabs your hips tighter, adjusts his stance, and starts fucking you.

loud. deep. steady. clap. clap. clap.

you’re losing it. you’re moaning, whining, trying to move your hips faster but he’s controlling the rhythm. one strong hand on your waist, the other smacking your ass with no warning. your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and you swear you almost come just from the sound of it.

your body starts pushing back, chasing the feeling. you arch more, throw it harder—but he grabs your arm and twists it behind your back like nah, baby. i’m driving.

“stay still,” he pants. “take this dick.”

you whimper into the sheets. “i’m trying…”

he laughs, low and breathless. “you’re not. but you will.”

and he goes deeper.

hips snapping, abs flexed, dragging that dick all the way out and then slamming it back in, so hard it knocks the breath out of you. your whole body jolts with every thrust. he’s got your arm pinned behind you, your back arched, your ass bouncing against his thighs, and all you can do is take it.

your moans are high now. desperate. fucked-out. that pressure’s building fast, and he knows it.

“don’t run,” he grits. “stay right here.”

you’re not even running—you’re breaking.

your legs shake, your pussy clenches, and then you’re cumming, loud and messy, gasping like the air got stolen from your lungs. your whole body spasms, walls gripping him tight, and he groans loud behind you.

“fuck—just like that…”

and then he’s cumming too. deep inside. hips pressed against you. spilling all that heat while he stays buried in it. he pants against your back, still holding your arm behind you.

and when he finally pulls out?

you collapse. absolutely ruined.

he smacks your ass one more time, proud. “good girl.”

he gets up like nothing just happened. like he didn’t just fold you like a damn beach chair.

he goes to the bathroom, turns on the light, and comes back with your shower cap. your shower cap. and he puts it on your head so gently you almost cry, even though you’re still literally twitching on the bed like your soul hasn’t fully returned yet.

“come on, baby,” he murmurs, checking the water with his hand. “it’s warm.”

sir. YOU did this. why are you acting like a caregiver now.

when the temperature’s right, he picks you up like you weigh nothing and carries you into the shower. you cling to him because your legs? absolutely not functioning.

you both shower together, steam everywhere, and he’s washing you so soft, following your routine perfectly like he’s rehearsed it. your favorite body wash—he knows the order by heart.

meanwhile your mind is just screaming:

he fucked me.

he actually folded me.

is this how he’s gonna be when we’re married??

you’re excited but also lowkey terrified. like are you gonna survive matrimony or nah.

he turns you around, washing the front of your body now, slow and careful, before he wraps his hand around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss.

you giggle into his mouth because why is he being sweet NOW. five minutes ago he was trying to put you through the mattress.

he keeps washing you, taking his time, and when you try to help wash him he literally smacks your hand away.

“i got it,” he says, like he didn’t just assault you with affection AND destruction.

rude.

eventually you’re both done. you dry off, lotion up, get dressed—while he sits there watching you the entire time like you’re a movie he paid premium to see. the man does not blink.

when you’re finished, you both go outside to the hammock overlooking the beach. the sky’s all soft and golden, waves quiet, breeze perfect. finally peaceful.

eren grabs your hand, running his thumb over your ring before kissing it.

“can’t wait to marry you,” he says, voice low.

your heart does a stupid flip. “me too.”

he smirks. you already know something insane is about to leave his mouth.

“you ready to have your back blown every day?”

“EREN.” you whip your head toward him like he’s lost his damn mind.

“what?” he shrugs. “i’m not lying.”

you glare at him but your face is hot.

then he looks at you softer, thumb brushing your knuckles.

“i love you,” he says.

you melt instantly. “i love you.”

he leans in, gives you a tiny kiss, then pulls you into his chest. the two of you sway gently in the hammock, warm, calm, just breathing together while the ocean hums in the background.

quiet. peaceful. soft.