scar'

now you’re half naked underneath him and wet against his crotch, clothes still in a pathetic pile by the front door of your apartment because you’d welcomed him in with the same unexpected feverishness of a bustling city’s summer heat wave. heated kisses and burning touches that speak more than a week’s worth of yearning. katsuki feels stupid, he doesn’t know why he cries, perhaps it’s because he knows — no condom means no sex. he hates to leave you high and dry, hates to have to go take a cold shower until he can hit the stores tomorrow, but then your fingers curl in ash blonde baby hairs and you pull him back into you as though he’s rope slipping through his fingers. firm. grounding.

“maybe… maybe tonight we can try without?” you suggest because you’re so perfect, so undeniably good to him in ways the blonde isn’t even sure he deserves. your lips are glossy, your eyes are glassy and katsuki can feel your pussy smear over him with a layer of sweet glaze — clenching around nothing just at the thought of taking him raw. “i don’t want you to go. just want to be close to you.” you add, pouty. so pretty.

he should say no. he should insist on going down on you and rubbing one out in the shower later tonight. but there you are, squirming against his thickness that presses into your soft tummy, peering up at katsuki with those captivating, hypnotic eyes that plead for a slither of mercy. “please.” you whisper, the secret lying underneath your tongue next to every form of begging you know possible. you’re prepared to do it, if it means having him sink into you completely free of rubber. just skin on skin and the passion burning in your lungs.

“okay,” pearls of sweat form a halo around his head, sand blonde locks stick to the feverish skin as it drops to your bare shoulder. blood diluted with droplets of sin set a course for south and katsuki’s thick shaft pulses to life against you — as if to lead him into temptation — put it in. “god, fuck, okay. you’re gonna be good though? g-gonna let me pull out?” he manages a choked groan, rooted strongly in his chest like a sturdy oak tree. reverberating through your lush, syrupy cunt with enough bass to make you bend into him.

when you smile this time, it’s relieved and earnest — a beautiful glow that settles against the natural slopes of your features because katsuki strips faster than he ever has in his life. cock rock hard, wet and bare against you, seedy tip lathered in pre cum already married to your aching clit which he taps so lovingly against.

“n-no promises.” you mewl.

it’s so crude, no unlike the two of you, to be messy and raw. the heat of him blooms within you as bakugou lines up with your entrance, shallowly thrusting past the quivering hole with a grateful hiss. because he’s so lucky to be let into the gates of heaven. that you’ll let him fuck you even with the risk.

“can’t play around like that, baby, c-can’t say shit like that,” his breathing stutters, you squeeze around every hot, bare inch he gives to you. “…mmm fuck— ‘m gonna —!” katsuki heaves into your neck, lips on your pulse point to check you’re still with him whilst he bottoms out — pelvis flush against yours, thighs hiked high on his hip, dick dragging along your welcoming walls. “you’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

"you're not gettin' out of bed for a week when i get back." he groans out raggedly as his stroke speeds up, the bed springs squeaking beneath him.

the wet sounds of his strokes fill your ears along with the raspy, uncontrolled groans he can't keep inside. veins stand out along his forearm, every muscle in his arm flexing tight as he strokes himself, completely unhinged by how good it feels to imagine it's your hands on him instead.

"fuck, i miss you so much." he whispered, his voice practically shaking with how close he is.

the pace turns hurried and rough, his palm gliding fast and tight up and down his length. his hips start tilting up into his hand, desperately. his thighs tense up hard and his abs clench once he hits his limit.

"shit.. m'gonna.." he moaned out, his voice cracking tight in his chest.

his hand speeds up into a few final, frantic strokes before he snaps—he orgasms hard, spilling white ropes all over his abdomen and fingers right under the camera's flash.

his stomach muscles contract harshly, every breath coming out as a harsh, shuddering heave.

"f-fuck, y/n.." he breathes out, the words completely wrecked and breathless as his strokes slowed down.

his flushed tip and mess-covered abs looked stunning, you can only imagine the look on his flushed face in this moment.

the video abruptly cuts off, leaving you in complete silence as heat spreads through your whole body. a second later, the screen lights up with a fresh text right beneath the clip;

my flight lands tomorrow at six. be ready.

© katsukiib ʚ♡ɞ do not steal, edit, or copy my work! ♡ — MASTERLIST! ♡♡

katsuki is way too big for your bed, the width of his shoulder covers half of your side and it’s something you should complain about… though you can’t when all that toned raw muscle cuddles you to his chest.

it’s quiet in your room, aside from the smacking of your lips, katsuki’s low grumbles that rumble from the pit of his stomach. then when he bites on your bottom lip, it’s a little whine that accidentally flutters out.

it’s a few seconds of staring at your sleepy lover in the dark while your lips are apart, breathless. your hand cups his cheeks and bakugou tugs you closer to him by your hip. you know he’s aroused, he struggles to hide it on a good day but in your bed with his guard down, he finds no reason to.

he squeezes your waist harshly, pushing out a shaky exhale from you like a squeaky toy.

“you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, guttural like the truth is pulled out from him without his permission. being alone with you does this to him. has him struggling to lie and not say what’s on his mind. katsuki wouldn’t have it any other way.

his skin is shiny from the expensive moisturiser you recommended, making him appear like a baby that just got doused in vaseline. luscious. healthy and stunning with his plucked eyebrows and scar right under his cheekbone.

“no, you are,” you reply, shutting him up by giving him another kiss.

it’s a leisurely kiss. you feel his jaw widen as he tilts his head over yours. your tongues tangle for fun, as if you’re playing a pointless game where you’re both going to win. bakugou manages to suck on yours and without meaning to another whine slips from you.

the only thing on your mind is bakugou katsuki.

you pull away from him, a quick peck on his lip before blinking at him.

“what?” katsuki breathes, tapping your ass cheek twice before resting back on your waist. then he decides to sneak his hand under your cami, his hand cosy under the fabric.

“what language do you think in?” you ask, running the pad of your thumb over his cheek scar. 

“why’re you thinkin’ about that?” he rubs his top lip on his septum then he grabs your hand off his face to kiss your thumb. he’s always transferring your love back to you.

you hum inconspicuously, “i’m thinking about you.”

“japanese, baby. then i translate in my head to talk to you.”

katsuki wants to go back to feeling his lips over yours, tasting every inch of you. but now he’s studying the sleepy sadness in your eyes, how you jut out your bottom lip like you’ve just been wronged.

you’re not wearing anything under your camisole so he’s able to run his thumb on the underside of your breasts. 

“what’s wrong with that?” he asks, trying to figure you out.

bakugou katsuki finds that having a girlfriend often means having to learn another new language. that when you tuck yourself away from him after an argument in the car, it means you want him to talk and not that you need space. that when you want to get dessert, he has to also say yes. you can’t get dessert alone, even if he doesn’t want any. 

you huff softly, running your hand down his bare stone carved chest to the rim of his cotton shorts.

“it sounds like a lot of work you have to do mentally to be with me. i want it to be easy.”

bakugou frowns. you’re disappointed, fucking heartbroken by the looks of it. he wants to laugh, how silly you can get when your unfiltered thoughts come out. you wouldn’t admit something like this during the day, you’d probably make a joke that he should be working his brain to keep up with you.

but you’re softened and closer to the dreamworld than you are on the bed with him.

“it’s not like that, princess. i don’t gotta think twice,” he half shrugs, “it’s not a conscious thing anymore. i just think and out my mouth is english. nothin’ deep.” 

you’re not having it, sighing to yourself, “i’m gonna get really good at japanese for you. i’m not bad at it.”

“your pronunciation is amazin’,” he smiles at you, ducking forward to kiss your lips.

“thanks,” you mumble, opting to feel him up instead.

your hand smooths up his chunky bicep, then down the deep chisels of his back. bakugou thinks you’ve moved on, that he can go back to smushing his face against your pretty one when you speak again.

“there’s a whole world in your head i don’t know about.”

you look at his necklace when you speak, an old gold chain of yours that you gave to him. it was too thick on you and it suits him perfectly. you tug on it, feeling each ridge between your fingers.

“hm?” he pushes you to explain.

“words that can’t translate. the dreams you must have. you know how you can read translated poetry and the notes about the poem are longer than the poem itself? that’s your head and i’m outside of it.” you whisper, holding onto his chain while you kiss him like you feel lonely. though he’s right there.

but bakugou doesn’t pout back. you’ve got him thinking.

“you should be an outsider when i’m with you and your friends or you and your family. i think i know english and then you’re saying words and phrases that i can’t understand. all sounds like gibberish to me.”

“that’s like made up words and slang. you’re still fluent. it’s not the same,” you poke back.

bakugou chuckles, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. he pulls your hand to rest on the centre of his chest and he places his hand over yours. you feel the gentle patter of his heartbeat, it soothes you.

“‘m not fuckin’ fluent.”

you nudge closer to him, unable to not be all over him for a second. you sling your leg over his waist, hugging him to you and running your nose along his ear.

“yes you are. you know everything.” 

“you don’t know what it’s like to argue with you.”

that makes you pause which makes bakugou turn back on his side to look at you.

you purse your lips then relax, “what do you mean?”

“when you’re mad at me, you speak fast as hell, usually cussing me with words i’ve never thought to put together and you’re so quick with it. so fuckin’ quick.” 

you’re unsure how being quick is different to speaking fast.

bakugou can tell you’re still confused. “my brain just can’t keep up. like i’m still translatin’ the last sentence and now you’re tellin’ me to go fuck myself ‘cause i’m a shit piece.”

you giggle at that. piece of shit, he knows.

“i think you’re making excuses because i’m always right,” you play.

bakugou shrugs, “maybe baby. but it’s so fuckin’ hard. i know what i wanna say when we argue but then you’re already on to the next point and i haven’t answered the first and then ‘cause i’m not talkin’ ‘cause im tryin’ to think, you think i don’t care.”

it’s easier to talk about arguing when you’re not arguing. 

“oh kats. that makes me sad. i’ll be more patient—,”

“no, no. i wanna be able to handle it.” he squeezes your hand.

“it’s not something to handle. i see when you argue with kiri and deku. you’re quick then, even though i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

bakugou grins, “i do like when you call me a fuckin’ dickhead.” he mimics your accent, his own chesty chuckle falling out when you put your hand on his face and grimace loudly.

he kisses the centre of your palm and the tickle causes you to pull away.

“i’ll be better for you,” you whisper and bakugou shakes his head.

“no, i will.” you finalise. 

bakugou sighs softly, knowing your mind won’t change.

you chew the inside of your cheek, a sign you’re dying to speak.

“go on then, baby.” he smiles.

“english isn’t even a romantic language. nothing sounds pretty, if anything it’s a pretty evil language—,”

bakugou stuffs his head into your neck, pushing you back into the bed softly. he begins nibbling on a soft spot before resting his lips on top in a wet kiss. he rubs over your lower back in slow circles.

“too much thinkin’, baby,” he works on your neck, loving how you mould your body into his, “it’s romantic ‘cause i’m talkin’ to you. your birthday cards, even your texts to me sound like poetry.”

you grunt to yourself. you are a good writer.

“you speak english at work. it’s not always romantic for you.”

bakugou rests on his forearm, hovering over you. “i can speak any language i want at work and people will find a way to listen.” 

there’s the humility you love in your boyfriend. 

“but i love talkin’ and understandin’ you. your big ass world in there,” he taps your temple with the tip of your finger, “the only benefit to knowin’ this language is i get to know you.”

you awe before you can help it and bakugou hangs his head in a blush. he manhandles your body with a single hand, pulling you closer under his arm.

“maybe english is romantic.” you hum, “and don’t lie to me. you need english for me and to watch those american superhero movies without subtitles.”

bakugou looks up at you grinning, nudging his nose into your cheek, “not true. the japanese dub is sick. rather listen to it in japanese.”

you can’t push your smile off, “so just me?”

he nods like a lovesick fool, droopy sleepy eyes and a wandering hand. “just you, princess.”

with your mind settled and tonight’s questions answered, you and bakugou go back to learning each other's language.

this time bakugou lets you sink your tongue into his mouth. wet kiss after wet kiss, your nails satisfyingly scratching through his hair and scalp.

bakugou moans into your mouth, sending vibrations throughout your body. “i love you.”

“i love you and thank you for letting me win all the arguments. you need to level up before you can fight me,” you giggle against his lips.

bakugou rolls his eyes, he’s got you back, bubbly and tender in his arms.

“yeah, yeah, princess,” he grins at you, looking over your body. he brushes his hand over your clothed groin, your fluffy pubic hair all tucked under your high waisted panties. “d’you wanna take these off for me? wanna hear you moan for me.”

you look like he just offered to eat you out. shiny eyes, pawing down his chest, finger already hooking in your underwear. 

“head, please,” you say politely, the sweet back and forth that gets you internally giggling at yourself and bakugou always rolling his eyes.

“that’s a word i learnt from you. head. through context clues and all. didn’t learn that at school in japan.” he shakes his head, helping you yank off your underwear. he tucks the fabric under his pillow to find it easily later.

“what would you call it? cunnilingus?” you look at your boyfriend, shirtless and sexy, hike your legs over his shoulders as he ducks down to lay on his stomach between your legs.

“the fuck is that?” he blurts, forcing his eyes from your glistening pussy to your pretty face, hitched up from your pillow.

“the proper word for eating pussy.” you say.

bakugou blinks at you, “repeat it f’me.”

“cunnilingus.”

bakugou repeats it after you as if he’s tasting every syllable on his tongue. though since he’s so close to you, your hips inch up in his face without meaning to.

he ignores you for the time being, “i don’t like that word.”

“w-what would you say?” you ask, licking your bottom lip. despite the rising heat over your body, you’re still curious.

“eating pussy.” he smirks like an idiotic boy that just said a bad word. he spreads your thighs apart, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh.

“oh. duh,” you laugh flustered, thoughts all on a one track road. he’s so gorgeous. sexy. you wanna drag him up to kiss him, you also wanna be touched. “can you? eat my pussy?”

bakugou says something to you, full japanese with beaming cheeks. his lips curl around every syllable, fluent and unfamiliar to you yet home on katsuki’s tongue. his smile doesn’t let up, he punctuates his comment by kissing your thigh.

“what?” you whimper, breathless just from his mouth close to your centre.

“said you’re a brat.” he translates, spreading you open with his thumbs. damn. he might have to fuck you after.

“yours, though.”

he agrees, looking straight at your wet folds just from a little kissing. he ensures that he says his next words directly to you so there’s no mistranslation, “mine. and i’m yours.”

His Black Panther dance was taken down from networks immediately for being TOO sexual, just to name one example. Black male sexuality being displayed by an ex Jehovah’s Witness, who was criticized for being “too innocent,” was deeply unsettling for white America. On a historical scale, it has always been dangerous for black men to attract the attention of white women…hell, even to just look in their direction! Treated as a crime and costing them their lives. And look at those false allegations and dehumanizing ass trial he went through at the hands of white men who wanted to humiliate and belittle him?? History really stays repeating itself, considering how much that trial destroyed Michael’s health and public image.

The only crime Michael committed was being a threat to white male supremacy and falsely accusing him of child abuse was their way to shoot him down. “Every time your lady speaks, she speaks of me. Threatened.“ Michael really ate those racist bitches up with that song. Him being empowered by his sensuality and his expression of masculinity is something to be celebrated.

“We’ll be over for dinner tonight so that you can officially meet him. Be sure to make some katsudon for us,” you add, flashing a smile.

“Yeah, we’ll— wait, the hell?” He turns to you, his brows furrowing in utter confusion as he squints down at you.

“What? Don’t you like katsudon? Want something else?”

“Love it, actually, but why the hell would I go to dinner with you?!”

“You’re my husband. That’s why,” you explain, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He just stares at you, completely silent, his brain visibly short-circuiting trying to process what’s happening.

“Lady, I don’t even know you,” he says, shaking his head and taking a small step back.

There is a moment of silence in which the two of you just stare at each other with your video still rolling.

Then—

“Do you want to know me?” You playfully wink at him, giving him one of your flirty smiles.

He blinks, caught off guard by your sudden boldness. A second passes as he studies your face once again, the gears turning in his head before finally making a decision.

“…I kinda do now, yeah,” he admits, half confused, half intrigued, because who the hell approaches someone else like this anyway?

“Perfect!” You turn back to the camera. “See you tonight, Mom!”