youâre both laying on the couch and heâs on you, laying his head on your chest as you two watch a show on your tv. your hands are tangled in his hair, playing with it before you move your hands down to his back
his breath hitches as you rake your nails across his back while he lets out a sweet âhngh..â to which he then covers up with a growl. you look down at him confused as he just goes, âkeep doinâ that. it feels nice.â so you shrug it off and keep doing so
thereâs areas where you scratch his back that are more sensitive and heâs just realizing it now. the feeling of your nails moving up in down in certain spots has his dick springing up in his sweats. he lets out a little whine before you stop and ask him whatâs wrong. ânothinâ, nothinâ, just keep scratchinâ..â so you do.
then you realize the patterns, how under his left shoulder blade his breath hitches and when you scratch on the top right shoulder blade he lets out a groan. this realization hits you like a freight train as you look down and notice that heâs slowly grinding his hips against your thigh.
so you dig your nails deeper causing him to groan and throw his head back, his hips bucking into your thigh. you focus on the main spots you noticed had the most effect. his breath becomes heavier as his whines and groans become more noticeable now that he knows that youâre picking up on the memo.
the harder you scratch, the deeper your nails go into his skin. the more he cries out for you. âf-fuckkk, baby, oh god right fuckinâ there.. hnghâ his hips are snapping into your thigh as you feel his thick cock grinding against it, precum seeping through the fabric of his sweats.
you tense up your thigh as you scratch the hardest and deepest you can as he cries out while he cums. âhngh, s-shit âm c-cumming- cumming!! ngh haaah..â he swears to god he saw stars as his back arches and he throws his head back. his hips stutter their thrusts into your thigh as you feel his cum leaking onto your pants because they seeped through his
he flops himself back down on your chest as he mumbles, âdonât fuckinâ say anythinââ
imagineeeeeeee. fine, nothing will be said but the looks you could give him hehe. how could you not give him the biggest shit-eating grin after the stunt he pulledâŚ
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dilf! bakugou who fucking loves coming homes after another dragged out and tiring day of work to see his precious kids, the absolute lights of his life, but who he really canât wait to seeâis the young, gorgeous babysitter who's bending over on the countertop trying to clean everything up just the way he likes it.
his truly favorite part of his night is when he puts you on top of the same countertop you just got finished cleaning, and crouched down in between your legs, gripping them tightly over his shoulders as he devours your cunt, licking and slurping away, a smug smirk plastered on his drenched face as you harshly bite down on your lip, trying to keep in the moans so his kids in the next room won't hear.
a/n: gasp, i actually wrote something. be easy on me okay, i havenât done this in a while. just some fluffy conjecture tbh, although there is one suggestive line but thatâs why all my stuff is 18+, minors dni please⌠enjoy <3
Bakugou Katsuki had never experienced touch.
Well, thatâs not entirely true. He had been touched before: punched and hit by those desperately trying to escape his pursuit, clung to by those fearing for their life, gentle yet encouraging pats on the back from friends, loving but annoying pinches of the ear from his mother. Heâs even been pawed at and caressed by lust-filled women that satisfy temporary needs. And even more dangerously, heâs been fondled by the promise of love disguised as lust⌠But never had Bakugou been touched.
At least until you.
The first time you touched Bakugou is a memory he will never forget. He was bone tired having worked an incredibly grueling month-long mission.
Instead of going home to catch up on much-needed sleep, he immediately went to his office to get the paperwork done. Most people donât know that a lot of things on the legal side canât go through until his side of the paperwork is done. Bakugou constantly feels like heâs never fast enough. No matter how fast he can get to the victims. No matter how fast he catches the villain. No matter how fast he gets things done he wasnât fast enough to prevent the victims from becoming victims in the first place. So, in his mind, the least he could do is get his paperwork done as fast as possible so that those involved can get their justice.
But, of course, the moment the mission is doneâbefore heâs even had a chance to change out of his hero suitâheâs met with nothing but a mountain of news articles and tabloid headlines ridiculing his name. They find joy in villainizing him over the smallest of details.
Most of the time, Bakugou ignores those things. It doesnât matter to him what others think. They can nitpick whatever they want because despite that he won. He saved the people who needed to be saved. To him, that was all that really mattered⌠usually.
It must have been his level of exhaustion, but he couldnât help the way his brows furrowed in disappointment reading the headlines. The words for the public sitting heavier on his chest than normal. His emotions got to him more than normal as he walked down the hallway from his official, finally heading home.
It was late.
Far too late for anyone else to still be there. Yet, he swore he could hear the soft pitter-patter of heels clicking against the floor. As he turned the corner he was met with the sight of you packing up. You hadnât noticed him yet, so he watched with confusion as scurried around filing documents, turning off computers, and locking doors.
âThe hell? Whyâre you still here?â He internally cringed as his voice boomed more than he meant it to since you nearly jumped out of your skin upon hearing him.
âOh Dynamight, Sir! I apologize I meant to be out of here before you noticed I was here.â Exhaustion seeped through your voice, giving you more rasp than normal.
âThatâs not what I asked you. The hellâre you still here for?â
âWellâŚâ you scratched your head feeling a bit shy, debating on whether or not to tell him the real reason why you were there. âI stayed to make sure all of the paperwork you submitted just now went through. As head of your legal team, itâs my job to make sure things on the agencyâs side are squared away. I understand you like to get things done immediately after a mission, Sir.â
Bakugou was speechless. So many questions riddle through his head he wanted to ask. Had you done this after every mission and he never noticed you? yes When had you noticed that he came in after missions to do paperwork? Why did you care? Instead, he watched wordlessly as you gathered your things.
âYou donât need to do that.â He finally spoke. His tone was unusually soft, nearing sweet if you squinted hard enough. You breathily chuckled. You had been working for Bakugou long enough to know that was his way of saying thank you.
âItâs really no problem, Sir. No reason you have to be the only person in the office so late, especially after working such long missions.â You softly smiled at him. With you being so close, he could see the exhaustion prominent in your own face.
The two of you worked your way out of the building together in silence. Bakugou felt that he had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask, but they all muddled to the back of his mind.
It was only when you guys reached the front lobby exit that he became aware of the incessant buzzing of his phone. Countless mentions, tags, reposts, and message requests were flooding in from every social media app. He couldâve sworn he turned his notifications off a long time ago, but there they were. Those same articles that called him a corrupt hero, a heinous/reckless man, and nitpicked things down to the way he breathed were being sent to him over and over again. A constant reminder that so many people disapprove of him.
He hadnât noticed how tightly he had been gripping his phone. How clenched his bicep was until he felt a gentle squeeze on his arm. Your hand was small in comparison to his but its presence was overwhelming.
Your thumb subtly rubbed soothing circles on his clenched bicep. âIf itâs worth anything, I think youâre incredibly kindhearted. The world is lucky to have a hero like you protecting it. Goodnight, Sir. Get some rest.â
Bakugou thought he was going to melt the second you pulled your hand away. Your words rang loud in his ears, but his skin buzzed even louder at the lingering effects of your touch. He had to stop himself from sobbing in the lobby that night.
There was something oh so special about your touch.
From the first time you ever touched him to the way, you touch him now as his wife. He swears he has to stop himself from sobbing every time. Itâs the overwhelming love that pours out of you every time your skin connects with his.
He was so incredibly touch-starved before you came along. Starved from the kind of touch that doesnât come from platonic relationships. Starved from the touch of someone that didnât expect to gain something from him in return. Starved from the intimate touch of true love.
He revels in every little touch you grace him with. The way you hold his hand under the dinner table. The way you pinch him lovingly, reminding him of his mother, when he says something out of pocket.The way you squeeze his thigh and rub soothing circles on him when tensions get high in a meeting. The way you nestle your face in his back as he cooks. The way you lightly slap his shoulder as you laugh hysterically. The way you drag your hands along his sides as he lays on you. The way you claw at him desperate to somehow bring him impossibly closer as he thrusts into you.
In all honesty, he still has a hard time fathoming that you are his. That you are in love with him. That you choose to be with him every day. He feels undeserving, but you always definitively object. He believes that you are so much more than anything he could ever be, but thatâs exactly how you feel about him.
Your touch is just one of the things he obsesses over you. Because he is just so incredibly in love with you.
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a/n: iâm not really sure if this makes sense. i hope what i was tryna do is conveyed. i sleepily wrote this. sorry for the bad grammar, like i said i was sleepy. <3
katsukiâs guilty pleasure is listening to mac demarco. it does something fuzzy to his chest.
the first time you put it on was on a long car ride. he canât even remember where exactly the two of you were going, he just remembers the peaceful quietness of the day.
neither of you had really said anything to each other the whole day, just silently basked in each otherâs presence. the day was filled with nothing but tender, tranquil, love.
itâs days like that where katsuki remembers why heâs alive. why people are so crazy about love. why he fights to protect his love, your love, and love in general.
the car ride was nothing short of peaceful. the car itself was warm just the way he liked it. not hot enough for him to sweat, but cozy and comfortable. it was beautifully sunny outside, but it wasnât so bright that it hurt his eyes to look at the road. the roads were clear and chill allowing him to relax while driving. he didnât have to be on such high alert for reckless drivers nor did he have to worry about getting irritated with traffic.
but most of all, he had you with him. you were barefaced, dressed in a homey-cozy little outfit. your hair the same as your clothes. and you were nothing short of beautiful.
he likes seeing you like this the most.
no one else got to experience you like this. you were your raw self. katsukiâs heart swells when he thinks about how heâs earned your vulnerability. how could he have gotten so lucky to have you not only love him but wholeheartedly trust him?
the beginning of the car ride matched the day in its cozy silence. but then katsuki heard you peep a quiet âoh!â as you reached over to grab his phone. as he glanced over at you, he noticed you excitedly biting your lip.
thatâs when you played mac demarco. you then sat back satisfied as you reveled in the enhanced calming ambiance youâd created. clearly feeling accomplished having found music to perfectly match the atmosphere of the day.
at first, katsuki couldnât understand why you liked it so much other than it being âvibey.â especially because he related so hard to all of those songs. he felt them deep within his soul.
he understood the kind of guttural love mac demarco was writing songs about. the kind of person mac demarco felt devastatingly connected to. because⌠thatâs how katsuki feels about you.
he was almost mad that you introduced him to this music. he feels so shaken everytime he listens to mac demarco. it makes his chest buzz with the overwhelming emotions he has for you. he canât even control it. the feeling is overwhelming. itâs addicting.
he just loves you.
so now he finds himself listening to mac demarco all the time. when heâs cooking, when heâs cleaning, when heâs at the office, when heâs working out, when heâs driving. whenever he feels the need to musically materialize his love for you.
itâs especially hard when heâs away on missions. heâs sitting in his hotel room at night, earbuds pushed deeply into his ears. he sits back and presses play as heâs laying down for bed. heâs already had a video chat with you, but the aftermath of that always stings the worst at the realization that you arenât with him. the quietness after the end of the call is loud enough to send him spiraling sometimes. he tries to ignore how cold and empty the bed feels and he fills the silence with that musically materialized love.
itâs calms him. creates a feeling that ripples from deep within his chest throughout his entire body, like ripples on a still pond. he misses you dearly. enough to make him cry. enough to make him leave his hotel and get back to you. but he wonât.
heâs a hero through and through. he sacrifices so he can fight. and he fights day in and day out to protect love. his love, your love, and love in general.
middle-aged toji who just grumbles and rolls his eyes when you tease him in public. heâs too lazy to pull you off his lap right now, and heâs not in the mood to argue with you. he leans back and watches you wiggle your hips, not bothering to fight the growing hardness in his pants. itâs past his bedtime, the music is too loud, and the drinks are shit. he lets you have your way for a bit, then drags you awayâmirthfully announcing that your âold manâ is too tired to hang. but the glint in his eyes tells you that the fun wonât be over quite yet; heâs going to deal with you once you get home.
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One of my toxic traits is immediately disagreeing with a man even if he's speaking the truth. So Bakugou could walk up to me and be like "You like me don't you? i can tell."
and because i think with my stubborn brain first I'd answer and be like "Actually I do not like you. In fact I've never liked anyone ever in my life. so fuck you."
warnings: 18+, suggestive, not proofread/bad grammar
you were convinced that a group pottery class was going to be such a waste of your friday night, but your friends had you convinced that an outing would do you some good.
an outing? sure. but nothing sounded more boring than sloppily molding dirt into a poorly constructed pot. something youâd be ashamed to even bring out of the cupboard.
the pottery studio was much cuter than you had expected. there was a designated area clearly made for beginners to take class. the studio had a very open and wide layout, allowing freedom for instructors and helpers to walk around and assist. however, it was clear that there were more than just people taking classes there. some bustled around the studio clearly there working on personal projects. their skill levels being much higher than that of a class memberâs.
one man in particular caught your attention. he didnât look like he belonged in a pottery studio. for one, he was a tall intimidating man who clearly worked out. his muscles seemed to be barely contained by his shirt and he wore a slight frown on his face.
your instructor and some of the class assistants greeted him warmly when he came in, but he only responded with a passive grunt. he was clearly a regular seeing as how no one took offense to his less thank enthusiastic greeting.
rather than pay attention to your class, you watched as he grabbed his supplies and stationed himself in a somewhat secluded area, away from the class but across from you.
it was just then you realized you had been watching him for a while. blatantly following his every move. you felt your heart drop to your stomach when his eyes locked onto yours. clearly you werenât the only one aware of your staring.
you quickly snapped your attention over to your instructor. doing your best to pretend like youâd been following along. but you could feel his fiery gaze linger on you.
you flustered about trying to catch up on the instructions youâd missed while also trying to shake the feeling that the man in front of you was glaring.
if you had no hope of doing well before, now you were really screwed. you looked around at everyone beginning to mold their pots already feeling defeated. you decided enough time had passed to glance back over at the handsome stranger.
shame bubbled in the pit of your stomach (along with other feelings) as you watched the man skillfully work with his hands.
you could see every flex of his muscles as he kneaded the large block of clay. you could see how the firm block softened under his touch as he massaged it into a ball. you couldnât help but imagine how your body would feel under his touch, how it would feel to have his thick veiny hands skillfully work on you.
it felt wrong to watch him. it felt dirty. your mind was running rampant with lewd day dreams as the man in front of you simply made a pot.
but there was something about the way he caressed the clay. youâre sure the sight shouldnât have been as lewd as it was.
his hands smoothed the sphere of clay into a cylinder shape, the turn table allowing him to keep his hands steady.
you felt your breath hitch as he pushed two wet fingers down the center of the clay. a dizziness washed over you as you watched his thick fingers slowly disappear deep into the narrow hole heâd created.
it made your thighs rub together. you tried to give the man the benefit of the doubt, convincing yourself you were crazy for thinking these over the top debauched thoughts. that is until, his eyes snapped up to meet yoursâ
his gaze was unwavering as he curled his fingers inside the clay, moving his fingertips to press against the wall slowly dragging up to widen the opening.
he watches your eyes glaze over slightly, completely entranced by his movements. your lips parted slightly to let out a small, heated sigh. a wicked smile appeared on the blondeâs face, and you suddenly realize it was intentional~
the realization brought sudden awareness to yourself and where you were. you tried to collect yourself and refocus on the monstrosity of work in front of you. youâd began to haphazardly work, ignoring the slick pooling in your panties as you try and shake the thoughts of the man in front of you from moments ago.
âyouâre being too rough.â you jolt at the deep gravelly voice. you had hoped it was one of the teaching assistants finally coming to save your disaster, but instead it was the beautiful blonde man youâd been ogling at, hovering over you. âthe nameâs katsuki bakugou.â
the man was even more beautiful up close making your heart flutter in your chest, but you werenât going to pass up on this opportunity.
you steeled your nerves and smiled up at him, âwould you mind helping me? i could really use it~â
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