‘ nana ⊹ ࣪ ˖

a/n: sos i fell in love w making smaus

chars: k. bakugo, i. midoriya, s. todoroki, e. kirishima, d. kaminari, h. sero

SPIT N’ STICK!

⸝⸝ “FUCK THAT SHIT TILL YA LEGS CAN’T STAND—HIGH FREAK BITCH WITH THE WORLD IN HER HANDS!” ˎˊ˗

𓍼 in which you have you remind your pro-hero boyfriend that he’s not the only freak in the house!

⸝⸝ content — f!reader is a FREAK, dom!reader + switch!sero, somewhat porn w/o plot, face-fucking, tiny blowjob, slight use of spit, overstimulation, fingering, oral (fem and slight male receiving), denying orgasms, p -> v penetration, black!reader, sero discovers he has a spit kink, punishment sex (?), degradation (some is sero but most of it is reader), established relationship, reader is a tease…

⸝⸝ w.c — 2.3k

The familiar sound of a horrible, probably one star-rated romcom plays, projecting from the tv of your shared room, popcorn sat in between the two of you comfortably as your head rests on Sero’s shoulder. You snort as a sex scene plays out, the female lead looks nauseous.

”Pfft. Look at that, she looks like she’s gonna throw up every time she moans,” you remark, drawling out a chuckle of him as he rests back on his palms lazily, his own head placing on top of yours, his gaze moving from the screen to you.

The light of the technology illuminates hues of blue and orange, the two mixing together across your features as you absentmindedly pop another kernel into your mouth, soft, plump, and pink lips meeting once again as you close your mouth. Fuck, those pretty little lips would wrap around his dick perfectly, your tongue would swirl around the base with ease, he fantasized, letting out an audible huff at his own thoughts.

That was one thing Hanta hated about himself when you two first got together. He started noticing things he shouldn’t have, that he wouldn’t have if he were with anyone else. It was new for him, but a good new, he guesses.

A soft giggle coming from you snaps him out of his trance of thoughts, making him follow your gaze—which happens to be on the not-so-subtle tent stretching his black sweatpants, the fabric feeling tighter than usual at the sudden tension.

“Babe, you need some help?” you murmur innocently as if you’re suggesting going to the carnival instead of riding him or sucking him dry as you fluff your afro, crawling over to him slowly. He gulps. The only think he can seem to focus on is the leopard print, black-laced bra peaking out from under your black long sleeved shirt, the neckline dipping just above the curve of your breasts before stopping.

“Maybe,” he remarks, trying to sound confident as usual, his hands instinctively finding your hips, tugging them with a squeeze as you find yourself straddling his lap, your hands steadying against his chest for stability.

You hum softly in acknowledgement, hands mapping out the expanse of his compression shirt before finding the hem of it, hoisting it over his head, your lips finding his in a slow, tender kiss.

It’s soft at first. Tentative as your mouths mold together, his hands roaming over the canvas that is your body with an un-rushed pace. The kiss got messier, rougher as your tongues lashed into each other’s mouths, curling around each other in more of a fight than an actual kiss, to be frank.

The intensity of it all results in a soft moan from you—and that’s all it takes to get Sero started. He groans in response, hands tugging at your long-sleeved shirt, finding the hem and lifting it over your head. You’re beautiful, as usual, of course. Golden brown skin that shimmers under the faint light of the room, tiny moles poking at the swells of your breasts and curling all the way into where the two meet. What surprises him, though, is your response.

“Who told you that you could take my shirt off?” you question, a brow arched in genuine curiosity as you cross your arms over your chest. He blinks at you in disbelief before letting out a breathless laugh, running a hand through the jet black, smooth strands of hair he has that you’ve grown to love.

“..Mi amor, did you not just take mine off? I figured it was only unfair if I had to show off my physique and you didn’t,” he states simply, shrugging as he gestures to himself, muscles flexing slightly as his abs become more prominent now that he’s pointing them out.

However, as soon as he’s finished talking, he finds himself being stood up and pushed back onto the mattress of the bed. “Oof—“ he mutters in response, but he immediately shuts up as he looks up at you. Hovering over him. Pupils blown wide, eyes scanning him in a calculating, almost predatory manner. Hair mussed a bit, chest heaving slightly from the intense make-out session only moments before.

The sight alone made his erection grow. But what you said next?

“Let me make something clear, Hanta. You don’t do anything unless I say so. Understand?”

He bites his bottom lip with a nod, a prideful smile making his lips curl. He’d been a bit busy with missions lately, not busy to the point that it caused any problems, just absent physically. Maybe you built up your dominance while he was away? Whatever it was, it was turning him on heavily.

After registering his compliance, you fully climb on top of him, fingers swiftly pulling down his sweatpants.

“Fuck—hah—where the hell did you learn that, bebé? Didn’t take you for the sloppy head type,” he teases with another breathless laugh, hips bucking into your mouth as you mewl against his cock, head bobbing up and down as you allow him to hit the back of your throat every time, burying him to the hilt inside your mouth, removing your mouth just to spit in your hand, rubbing the two together as you start giving him a blowjob.

He throws his head back, groaning deeply with a sharp inhale. He didn’t even know he had a spit kink—not until you just did that shit. Fuck, that was hot. You suddenly stop when you feel him stiffen—he was about to cum just then.

“Hold it,” you huff, moving back down to his twitching cock to continue sucking him off as he looks at you in pure disbelief once again.

You make a muffled sound, most likely a sentence, but he can’t even understand you, especially not over his needy groans as he starts fucking your face from pure need, his length slamming against the roof of your mouth as you slap his thigh, causing him to bite back another sound.

“What the fuck did I say, you greedy little boy? You don’t do anything unless I say to. You know what happens to boys who don’t know how to listen?” You snide rudely, a cruel smile crossing over your face as you stand to grab his hair, tugging it roughly as he whimpers involuntarily.

“Look at you. So desperate for some attention. You’d fuck yourself with my panties if I’d let you, huh?” you remark, letting go of his hair as you crawl up to his chest, legs on either side of his torso before you slid your shorts off, leaving you bare in front of him.

“..Yes, yes I would. You didn’t wear any panties, sweetheart?” he questions, his own pupils dilating as he stares at your dripping slick, his tongue flicking over his suddenly dry lips.

“No. Figured I’d be punishing your ass by the end of the night, anyway,” you mutter, hovering your pussy right over his face before finally dropping down against his mouth. Sero moans immediately, hands finding your ass to give it a tight grip—only for you to smack them away, spitting into his mouth as a warning. Right. Rules.

Sero tastes you like a man seeking salvage, and you’re that very salvation he’s been seeking for so long. His tongue pumps in and out of of your fluttering cunt, causing your eyes to roll back into your head with a soft moan. “That’s it, Han. Right there. Show me you can be good—shit…”you breathe out, grinding into his mouth, which causes his tongue to press flat up against your clit. You moan even louder at the contact, Sero groaning into your wetness as he continues fucking you with his tongue, the muscle sliding in between your folds with precision.

The air reeked of sex and pure pleasure, filthy noises of your pussy squelching around his tongue echoing throughout the room as you grind a bit more erratically into his mouth, a hand moving up to fist his hair. “F-fuck…right there, Han—ah!” you stifle a breath as you feel the rubber band building up in your stomach, your movements growing more desperate, lacking your earlier authority as you chase your high.

“Mmph—look at my dirty girl. All that badass shit gone just with my tongue, how pitiful,” he purrs against your heat. You can only manage to grip his hair harder at the remark, hips rolling against his mouth.

“H-Hanta, I’m—I’m coming! Fuck!—“ you cry out, your vision going white as your orgasm takes over. The fluid squirts out all over his face, the rest dripping down your shaking thighs as you ride it out, giving a few more slow thrusts into his mouth before collapsing against his chest.

“..Come on, cariño, you can’t tell me you’re tired already? I haven’t even came yet,” he whispers in your right ear, giving it a teasing nip that makes you shiver before he flips the two of you over, hovering over you now as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Hey…I said don’t do anything without my..permission,” you huff, watching as he gives you a look that says: “Oh, please, you can barely move,” before he slides in, your slickness helping him slip right into your snug little pussy, pushing himself in balls deep in one go. You moan, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he thrusts into you.

After a few minutes, you can tell he’s close. His pace starts to grow faster, his execution increasingly brutal. Your fingernails claw at the expanse of his back, stuffing your face into his hair with a huff.

“Why are you going so slow? You don’t think I’m that easy, do you? Your pace is average at most, to be honest,” you tease, causing him to scoff before pulling out to where just his tip remains—before SLAMMING back into you, moving as a undignified pace and using such force that the bed starts to creak. You yelp, following with a loud moan of euphoria, hooking your legs over his shoulders to shift into a mating press, your knees pressing into your chest.

”That—thrust—good enough—thrust—for you—thrust—brat?” he spoke in between thrusts, practically slaughtering your poor pussy as your gummy walls gush from the sheer amount of energy he’s using. “…I—shit, I’m coming!” he groans, shoving himself as deep as he can one last time as his warmth spills into you, making your stomach flutter with fulfillment as his seed spills out of you, cum leaking down your thighs and dripping down onto the sheets.

As soon as you tense up, feeling your own orgasm rushing forward—you feel Sero’s hands on your hips, staring at you. “Hold it,” he states simply, turning your own former words against you. Cruel.

Your eyebrows furrow as you scoff, thighs twitching in anticipation. “I’m not holding shiiiiiiiit…fuck!—“ your head lolls back as Sero dives down before you can even finish your sentence, his tongue slipping in between your folds for the second time.

His index and middle finger slip in alongside his tongue, the three working in precision as you let out a sharp cry from the overwhelming feeling. You liked shit like this, but it was too much. The fingers, his tongue, he just wrecked you with his cock, he ate you out before that—it was crazy to you.

But at the same exact time—the lust inside you was still insatiable. Insanely so. However, your thoughts are interrupted as another orgasm tears through you, Sero slurping up every single last drop of cum that leaves your aching, sore hole.

He lets out a tired sigh, kissing your temple as he wraps the blanket around you, getting up as you look at him in confusion.

“Where are you going?”

“..Uh, to get a towel?”

“We’re not done! I came twice, you came once,” you shrug, sitting up as you glance down at his still-hard erection, gesturing to that as well.

He blinks, glancing down at himself with a sigh as he approaches you.

“Fine,” he murmurs, with his usual shit-eating grin.

“But you’re doing all the work this time.”

You dust off your hands with a pride smile as you step back, taking in the sight before you.

With some use of Sero’s tape, you standing on your tippy toes to the ceiling fan, and your creativity—he’s now restrained, wrists stuck pressed together as his own tape circles around them and up to the fan for security.

“Ta-da!” you enthuse, gracing him with a smile and jazz hands as he just looks up at his wrists, then at you with a laugh.

“Whatever helps you have fun, I guess,” he shrugs, smiling as you spit into your hands again.

“What’s up with you and spit, anyway?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at your habit of incorporating spit when you top. You look up at him, shrugging as well.

“I used to peg some of my old boyfriends. I’m used to using spit as lube, so now I just use spit as a habit, I guess,” you state simply, laughing at the way his jaw dropped.

“THAT’S why you were so good at topping!”

“Guilty as charged.”

✦ katsuki and his shy girl making out ⸝⸝ .ᐟ

cinnamon lingers in the air, the pale wall blurs your vision, and your ears are swallowed by the low hum of the AC — well, that and the sounds of his lips against your neck. 

"you nervous?" he questions, although he already knows the answer. 

since stepping into katsuki's apartment, you've barely spared him a glance — a quiet aura of hesitation clinging to your every move.

it's not that you and katsuki haven't kissed before — pecks on the lips do count — it was that you'd yet to kiss him like this. with your legs on either side of his lap, your bra the only thing left between you, and your breath dancing in the small space between your lips.

katsuki's warm, very warm — almost overwhelmingly so. his chest sticking to the lace of your bra and his body pressed so close it makes it hard to think.

his hands are like a heated weight over the small of your back, coasting over ridges and curves on your skin as he tries to soothe your obvious tension — keyword: tries.

because as his lips trail from the dip in your collarbone to the shell of your ear — you feel all sanity getting lost underneath his fingertips.

"you in there?"

honestly, you're not quite sure. "mhm, yeah i'm here"

you nod as if you're trying to convince yourself, too — ignore how the sudden closeness of his lips makes your cheeks heat and your heartbeat sound in your ears. flurries of panic only burrowing their way to your throat when his hands suddenly cup your face.

"no, you're fuckin' not"

wc ; ~ 700 · ° .ᐟ

katsuki had you face down ass up, back arched deep as he fucked you from behind like he was pissed off at you.

his hips snapped forward hard, thick cock slamming into your pussy with wet, filthy sounds. every brutal thrust made your body jolt forward on the bed, but he just yanked you back by the hips like you were his personal fucktoy.

“fuck, this pussy is swallowing me so fucking good,” he growled, voice rough and raspy. “taking me so deep”

you moaned loud into the pillow, gripping the sheets tight as he fucked you. his pace was mean and relentless, skin slapping loudly against skin. he reached forward, grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, forcing you to arch even more.

“don’t hide your fucking face,” he snarled. “I wanna hear every sound you make.” then he brought his palm down hard on your ass.

SMACK !

a small, controlled explosion went off against your skin the second his hand connected — tiny sparks and heat blooming across your ass cheek. the sharp sting made your pussy clench hard around him.

“oh!” you cried out, eyes watering.

katsuki laughed low and mean, still fucking you.

“yeah? you felt that?” he slapped the other cheek even harder, another little explosion popping against your skin. the sense of pain and heat made your legs shake. “that making you cream all over my cock ?”

he kept fucking you deep, hips snapping forward while his hand came down again and again. every slap came with a small pop of his quirk, not enough to actually hurt you bad, but enough to send sharp, electric shocks through your ass that turned into throbbing heat.

“fuuuck, you like that don’t you?” he groaned, yanking your hair harder. “pussy keeps squeezing me every time I blow up on your ass. nasty little masochist.”

“i love it— i love when you’re rough !”

your moans were getting louder, broken and pathetic as he fucked you hard from behind. katsuki leaned over you, chest pressed against your back. his mouth right next to your ear as he spoke absolute filth.

“you’re dripping down my fucking thighs. making such a messy fucking pussy for me. bet you want it harder next time, huh?”

he slapped your ass again — harder. the explosion was a little bigger this time. the stinging burn mixed with the pleasurable stretch of his cock made your eyes roll back.

“katsuki— don’t stop pleaseee!” you dragged out, pleasure and pain blending together perfectly.

“that’s right. taking it sooo good ,” he mocked, teeth grazing your shoulder threatening to bite down. “you feel how deep i’m hitting?”

he straightened back up, gripping your hips with both hands. his thrusts were faster, deeper, more aggressive. every time his hips met your ass he gave you a small explosion on your already sensitive skin.

the constant mix of his thick cock stretching you open and the sharp, hot shocks from his quirk was driving you insane. you were shaking, pussy fluttering around him as an orgasm built fast. katsuki could feel your pussy clenching harder around him like you’ve done hundreds of times when your so close to cumming

“c’mon cum on my cock,” he commanded, slapping your ass again with another tiny pop.

“f-fuck tsuki— mhh ! ”

the next hard thrust combined with a stinging explosion pushed you over the edge. you came hard, screaming into the pillow as your pussy gushed around his cock, walls spasming violently.

“shit, that’s it,” he groaned, fucking you through it. he didn’t stop. he kept pounding into your sensitive pussy, chasing his own high. his breathing got rougher, low grunts and curses spilling out as he used you.

“gonna fill this pussy up, fuck—”

with a few final brutal thrusts, he buried himself deep and came hard, groaning loudly as thick ropes of cum flooded inside you. he kept grinding into you slowly, making sure you took every drop inside your spent pussy.

he finally pulled out and gave your ass one last hard slap with a tiny explosion for good measure. you twitched hard, whimpering. katsuki smirked, breathing heavy as he stared at the red handprints and faint explosion marks littering your ass.

for someone who’s so loud and cocky, katsuki is surprisingly quiet in bed. because he hates the sounds he makes, finds his own whimpers and groans pathetic and weak. he hates the way his control dissolves, the way his body betrays him with hitched breaths and feeble groans. every time a whimper ‘threatens’ to spill from his lips, he’s gulping it down, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

he kisses you like he’s trying to swallow the moans building in his own chest. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, not just to taste you, but to make sure you’re so full of him that no sound can escape.

“kats breathe,” you gasp when he finally lets you up for air.

“shut up,” he snarls, but there’s no heat beneath his words.

when you finally sink down onto him, taking him in inch by excruciating inch, his whole body goes rigid. a sharp hiss falls through his gritted teeth, and he immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, as if in shame. you can feel the vibration of his groan against your throat, a guttural sound he tries so, so hard to kill.

“fuck,” he breathes, a mere puff of air against your glistening skin. his hips remain still, even as his cock throbs inside you

when you start to ride him, his hands fly from your hips to your ass, then to your shoulders, anywhere he can get purchase, as if he’s physically trying to hold himself together. his breathing becomes harsh and uneven. you can hear the struggle in every inhale. his crimson eyes are squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in concentration that has everything to do with not falling apart.

you love watching him like this. you love being the one to unravel him. you pick up the pace, rolling your hips in that way you know drives him wild, and you feel the tremor that starts in his thighs, the way his calloused fingers dig bruises into your perfect skin.

a sound that’s half-gasp, half-whimper, bubbles up, and katsuki immediately clamps his mouth down on your shoulder — using your body to silence his own.

he’s drunk on the copper leaking from your broken skin. he presses soothing kisses to your shoulder and it makes you clench even harder around him. that’s what finally makes him break. a moan tears from his throat, muffled by your flesh but unmistakable. a vulnerable sound that’s completely at odds with the explosive hero he is by day. it’s the sound of him stripped of all his defenses

and he hates it. you can feel the way he freezes for a moment, horrified by his own lack of control. “don’t—”

“don’t what ? don’t stop ?” you tease, rolling your hips again.

“stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that,” he’ll grumble, turning his face away even as his hands white-knuckle your hips, pulling you closer.

but you’re not having it. you reach back, tangling your fingers in his sweat-damp blond hair, and pull his gaze towards yours. “let me hear you,” you murmur “wanna hear how good i make you feel.”

“no,” he shakes his head, stubbornly, eyes squeezed shut. “can’t. it’s too damn embarrassing.”

“it’s hot” you counter, “you’re hot katsuki. now let me hear you.”

“don’t — hah — say shit like that” he groans. his hips, now freed from their self-imposed prison, thrust up to meet yours. his moans become more frequent, little whimpers and moans he can’t swallow, each one is followed by a tightening of his jaw, a rosy flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“that’s it kats,” you encourage, “just like that.”

when you lean back, changing the angle just so, he finally, truly surrenders. his eyes fly open, wide and glazed with pleasure, and his mouth falls slack. a string of curses,spills from his lips. “fuuuck . . . you’re so—hck— damn you”

his face is completely red, and he’s so, so loud but he’s past the point of caring. his hips slam into yours, his movements losing all finesse, driven purely by need

“gonna. . fuck, baby. . i’m gonna—” he chokes out, and it’s the most warning you’ve ever gotten from him.

he cums with a strangled cry, your name a wanton mess on his lips. his whole body all but arches off the bed. the sounds he makes are muffled by your skin, but you feel them all the same—the whimpers, the groans, the exhausted panting. for a long moment, the only sound in the room is his ragged breathing and the pounding of your own heart.

then, slowly, he relaxes, his body going limp against yours. you know he’s replaying every sound, every whimper, and cringing. you card your fingers through his hair, holding him close, and wait. eventually, he shifts, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your sternum before muttering against your skin, “that’s never gonna happen again”

you don’t have to say anything. you just smile, because you know that next time, when you’re skin against skin and joined together as one, you’ll break his silence all over again.

cw: mentions of self-harm, uncomfortable conversations for the reader, g/n reader, reader has scars all over their body, mentions of self-hatred, hurt/ comfort (?), angst, fluff, suggestive, cursing, underage smoking/drinking.

bf!izuku who never cared for people looks all that much.

bf!izuku didn’t even notice your scars when he first met you because he was too mesmerized by your face.

bf!izuku who always noticed how embarrassed you’d get if someone brought them up.

“so what happened?” denki asks as he pokes your arm in curiosity.

“kaminari!!” kirishima hissed at him as he slaps denki’s hand away. “not manly, bro!”

“it’s fine! i get it all time.” you say looking down, ashamed at how how your body looks.

not from far away, izuku was watching it all unfold, getting defensive for you

you didn’t care for them all that much if you were being honest. the only thing you were worried about was if someone might find you unattractive just because of them.

when you and bf!izuku got together, you started wearing more conservative clothes, afraid he’ll soon think you’re not stable enough to be with.

he noticed. of course he did. he always notices everything.

“hey, yn?” he asks you, finally wanting to figure out why you’ve been wearing such clothes all of the sudden. he had a couple ideas, but assuming would be rude in this scenario, so he’d rather ask you himself.

“yes?” you look up at him from your book, clearly very invested in the plot. you both were in your room on your bed. it was a very lazy saturday.

“i just had a question. it’s totally okay if you’re not comfortable with answering it.” he says having doubts already trying his best to weird you out.

“ask away!” you enthusiastically reply, putting your bookmark in. you devoted your complete attention on him, not really caring what the question is, just happy he’s with you in the moment.

“uhm well.. i-i noticed before we started dating, you were quite comfortable with wearing uhh.. more open clothing, i guess? it’s not really my business, but i’m really curious as to why that is.” he nervously scratches his neck as he looks away anxiously, afraid he’s crossed your boundaries.

you look at him, your face unreadable.

“well, i guess you deserve to know since kinda is your business.” you start as a sad smile appears on your face. this was usually the part where your partner leaves you, for someone without struggles. someone without self-hatred towards their own skin. someone who doesn’t doubt their looks or over thinks their appearance. you take a slow, deep breath preparing yourself for a break up.

“i’m really insecure about my scars, and think you will be embarrassed to be around me with them out.” you blurt out briskly, already knowing the outcome. or so you thought.

there’s a moment of silence.

you look up cautiously and there it- HE’S CRYING??

there’s a sudden mood change in the room because you genuinely have no clue on what to do.

“MIDORIYA?!” you panic as your hands fly up form your sides, trying to help with something.

he suddenly hugs you so tight you see stars. many of them.

“i think you’re so beautiful in your own unique way, yn. you don’t understand how much i admire you and your personality. sniffle. you mean so much to me, you can’t even imagine how much you mean to me not only as a partner, but also as a friend.” now you’re the one crying.

“h-how can you say that?! you’re crazy!” you’re hysterical. what is he thinking!?! how could anyone in their right mind can love a mutilated body??

he pull back to look at your face. and there’s nothing but support and admiration in his beautiful, twinkling eyes.

“they’re a part of your story. your story’s just a little different form some people, and that’s not something to be ashamed of, ever. the most important thing is that you over came some challenges in your life, and the main part of it all is that you survived.” tears flow out of your eyes nonstop.

you start hitting his chest in anger. mostly angry at him for not realizing that there’s so much more to him than a girl with issues in her head.

“izuku! stop it! you deserve so much more!" you wither in his grip, trying your best to get him to realize how much he's actually worth.

his hands are suddenly on your cheeks. he pulls you in with force he never used before like he's trying to prove a point. and he is. and he did.

he lets go of you slowly and gently, as if you're the most precious stone in the world. he presses his forehead to yours as he closes his eyes and sighs.

"you're all i could ever ask frond more. there's nothing you could do to make me less attracted to you. ever. and I'm sorry if i gave you that impression at some point. that was never my intention." you both know fully well that he never said anything negative towards you or your body, and wouldn't ever dare to.

"t-thank you." you say with a sigh, utterly shocked someone could love you with and without clothes covering your past decisions in shame.

"i will always love you for who you are. your scars don't mean shit to me and they especially shouldn't mean anything to you."

you and bf!izuku have not not talked about their feelings ever since that day.

after another saturday night of you both getting high and drunk at a party, you both decide to sleep over at izuku's since his dorm was slightly closer than yours. not that it mattered since both of your dorms had pieces of each other in it. he's pushing you against the door as his tongue swirls in your mouth, trying to mend the two of you together.

he opens the door and drags you with him, slowly and careful not to ruin it. once it's off you look up at him. this isn't the first time he's seen you shirtless, far from it. he immediately staring kissing all over any skin he sees.

"so smooch beautiful smooch, baby." he tells you in between kisses, as if he can't pull away for even one second.

and you're right where you want to be.

a/n: for whoever needed this (me).

dividers; @pixopix

tojis scared of nobody, hes done a lot of scary shit in his life, and none of that has ever really bothered him the way you do when youre upset with him.

the worst part is that you never yell about it either, you just get quiet in this awful way that makes the whole apartment feel wrong while he sits there trying to figure out exactly how badly he fucked up this time.

right now hes slouched at the kitchen counter watching you cook dinner in complete silence after finding out he lied about where he was last night, and for maybe the first time in years, toji genuinely feels nervous.

not because he cheated, because christ no, he'd rather die. he just told you he was out working when really he had been wasting half the night at the track with the guys, throwing away money and stumbling home at three in the morning smelling like cigarettes and beer.

now youre upset for real.

you stand at the stove stirring something slowly without looking at him even once.

"..baby." he tries carefully.

you dont answer him at all, dont even glance in his direction, and toji immediately shifts in his seat while his rough hand drags down his jaw as he watches your back like hes trying to predict incoming danger.

"dont start that quiet shit...come on."

you keep stirring the pot like he didnt speak, and somehow that gets to him worse than yelling ever could because now hes just sitting there alone with his own stupidity banging in his head.

he scrubs a hand down his face hard enough to pull at his skin before trying again.

"…i said m'sorry."

you finally look at him over your shoulder, calm and unreadable, and toji straightens immediately like somebody pointed a loaded gun at him.

"alright, nah." he says quickly, sitting up properly now. "quit lookin' at me like that, shits makin me nervous."

you turn back toward the stove without answering, and the genuinely distressed look on his face would almost be funny if you werent still irritated with him.

"baby," he tries again, something almost pleading sitting underneath his voice. "i know i shoulda called. i know that. wasnt thinkin straight."

you stay silent long enough that he finally pushes himself out of the chair and walks toward you carefully, slower than a man his size usually moves, like he knows one wrong move might make everything worse. his hands hover near your waist for a second before finally settling there, fingers digging into the generous flesh, warm and cautious while he leans down toward your shoulder.

"dont stay mad at me," he mutters quietly. "hate when youre mad at me."

you stay quiet just long enough for panic to start creeping back into his expression before finally sighing, one tired little sigh leaving you while you keep stirring dinner. did you calm down yet?

the relief flashes over him instantly, and thats when your nails dig into the back of his hand immediately.

"If you lie to me again," you say, grip tightening on his hand. "I'll smother you in your sleep."

tojis entire face drops so fast its almost impressive. his brows pull together while he slowly lifts his head from your shoulder to stare at the side of your face like hes trying to figure out whether youre serious or not.

"Im expecting a manipedi this week," you continue flatly, turning back toward the stove like this is all perfectly reasonable.

"you taxin' me now?" he asks

"and you better go earn that wasted money back right now." you say, menacing. "or gold help me ill bang you in the face."

tojis mouth opens, then shuts again immediately when your nails dig harder into his skin. he squints at you suspiciously while you finally let go of his hand and turn toward him fully.

"chop chop, boy." you say.

"the hell you just call me?" he asks

you grab the front of his shirt before he can keep complaining, tugging him down just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. and then you pull back slightly, look him dead in the eyes, and say very quietly.

"get out my face."

he immediately steps out of your way.

taglist: @@jjakeysheart @rkivesvs7 @c6choso @shea354 @kiwicherry04 @choco-chipp @tojibunnyy @tojisgdgirl @xoxocherrybabyy @dearwyn @pigtaileddolliee @tojiful @heartcandyslxt @lisabelhyhn @chaeisrichnow @chewiebee @tojisfiancee @retiredpanda @bbvvvy @princesplatano @jaehyunsleftnut @lightandfuryauthor @fysalia @alinacoke @ssrist @bl1ndv3lvet @lisa200976 @vheartsfushi @amarislovesmcdonalds @1ana22 @cherrieslovess @arcanehellokittyforlife69 @lov-3-x @str4wb3rrylife @whoiskaykay @sugurusbun @tojioppshotta @yumyumyu @yvesapple4 @733164 @peonysecret @pr1ncessthug @magicalpeenpoo @unknownowlbokutoswifeyy @eepynataly @bowiesprettieststar2 @bagleaf @lacedwithsarcasm @wholemeltt @ipoopedmypants47

I never really thought about faux cest as something id indulge in, but I'm an absolute whore for my man and ill eat up anything written about him so I'm super curious to see how you'd think this could play out? You MIGHT even convert me

just pretend | bakugo, k.

ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, fauxcest, (big brother play), established relationship, (soft)dom!katsuki, fem!sub!reader, reader has a pussy, suggestive or smut i don’t even know, maybe ooc katsuki, i’m sick like a dog responding to this ask, dumbification (?), fingering (?), not proofread

ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: katsuki finds out what weird stuff you read on your phone

ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: 1k words

“baby, what’re you reading?” katsuki murmurs as the two of you were lounging together on the bed. a small space separated you — he was sat propped up against the headboard, eyes fixed on the soccer game playing on the tv, while you laid beside him, head resting on a pillow, phone in your hand. you didn't answer him right away, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “nothing,” you reply at last. it comes out a little too fast— a little too uneven.

his head tilts, and with a quiet click of the remote, he turns off the tv— the match wrapping up in the background. “really? it doesn’t sound like you’re on your reels. just thought you’d be reading something, the way your phone’s so close to your face.”

you sigh, much bigger than you mean to, beginning to worry he won't drop it. “…it’s just some story.”

“what about?”

you glance at him again, noticing how he’s shifted— his elbow now resting on the pillow behind you, head in his hand, as he looked your way. “…i don’t know.”

for someone trying NOT to draw attention to yourself, you were doing a terrible job. he laughs at your expression. “hell you mean, ‘you don’t know?’ aren’t you reading it?”

“well, i’m trying to figure it out,” you lie.

“mm. alright. you just got that look on your face.”

you scoff. “what look? i don’t have a look.”

a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “you do. it’s that look you get when you’re reading some freak shit. must be pretty bad though if you won’t tell me.”

“it’s not— ugh,” you cut yourself off, realizing he’s caught you, and quickly changing the subject. “you ever heard of boundaries?”

“nah,” he says easily, snatching your phone away in one swift motion and holding you back with his free hand.

"katsuki!"

much to your mortification, he then begins to read the title of the tumblr post out loud. “big brother asks you for a favor,” he recites, before shooting you a look, one eyebrow raised. “you like this shit?”

“stop,” you protest, reaching for your phone. “it just popped up.”

he scrolls down the page. “you’ve have it liked.”

your face flushes with embarrassment. “i-it’s only fictionally! i don’t even have any brothers, so its… ugh—” your voice trails off as you turn away, burying your face in the pillow.

his laugh borders on evil, as he shifts closer to you on the bed until he’s right behind you. his hand finds your hip, fingers light but deliberate. “you don't like when i tease you, little sis?” he asks, mockingly innocent.

"stop. that's not how it's like," you cringe, the sound muffled by the pillow

katsuki snorts. “oh, so you're an expert. i thought it just 'popped up.”

you don’t say anything to that, your face burning as shame twists in your chest. for a moment, it feels like you might just die then and there.

“hey,” he eventually croons, the softness of his tone cutting through the silence, hand rubbing your hip now. "what can your ‘big brother’ do to make you feel better?"

"fuck off and die," you suggest.

he rolls his eyes. “okay, other than that?”

a silence stretches as you hesitate to answer.

another laugh escapes his lips, pressing a kiss to your temple. “hey, i’m sorry for making you feel embarrassed. it’s just fiction, yeah?”

you turn toward him, though your eyes stay fixed downwards. you nod in response. “yeah.”

“yeah,” he echoes, smiling, and pulling you closer until you’re against his chest. after the quiet lingers a second more, he finally speaks again, mischief laced in his every word. “but seriously… if you want, i could be a big brother for you.”

a mha college au feat. DENKI K. & HANTA S.

“ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the chocolate starfish, and the hot dog flavoured water…. BRING IT ON!”

mdni

cw: “HELP!! MY BESTFRIEND WANTS ME TO SUCK HIS DICK SO HE CAN RECORD IT AND SEND IT TO HIS SITUATIONSHIP?!”

wc: 2k

starting track….

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

…….

“dude, you’re fumbling with the thing—”

“—i’m not, s’literally fine—”

“you’re gonna— you’re gonna smudge the cam— oh my god—”

“shit, i dropped it, hold on….”

“…you’re a fuckin’ mess.”

“me?! i’m the mess??? this was your idea.”

sero snatches his phone back from his bestfriend with a half-scoff half-snort. it was a bad idea asking denki to do this, the guy never takes anything seriously.

not that this is serious.

this, this is the funniest thing of the century.

this, this is him proving how fucking petty he can be.

because you, oh god, you’ve been taking the piss. ignoring his messages, acting like you don’t know him when he sees you in public, posting another guy on your story. really? and the dude wasn’t even all that.

he had to get his lick back, obviously.

but he has to be smart about this.

posting himself with a girl wouldn't do anything other than push you further away, and while he does enjoy your little games. he does actually, sorta-kinda like you.

he needed something, something good, something smart, something to make you jealous, but also hot, bothered, and horny.

how could he pass up an opportunity like this, a gift from above, or below, however you wanna look at it, in the form of denki kaminari.

because you're aware, he told you himself, offhandedly, about how he and denki used to fuck. not heavy, just two bisexual best friends, down on their luck, fried as shit, sometimes denki's dick in his mouth was just the natural progression of things, he can't help that.

but he remembers what you had said in reply.

“that's hot.”

and he was tickled, ego stroked, he prodded you further, because what exactly is the hot part, him, denki, both of them together? and you, in your own words said you wouldn't mind watching.

something about, yaoi, hentai, and something else about heated rivalry, and something else that he wasn't fucking listening to, because he was already filing this away for later.

you wouldn't mind watching.

but you’re not here. in fact, he hasn’t seen you for weeks, he thinks you might be mad at him for something he forgot about.

but just because you're not here doesn't mean he's just gonna fuck his fist, and mope about. not when his roommate is the denki kaminari.

the camera flips around.

they’re in hanta’s room, low blue lighting, nu metal on the speaker, loud enough to mask the noise they’re about to make, but not loud enough to distract from the task at hand.

denki’s leaned against the headboard, face lit by the blue light of his phone, probably scrolling on reels.

because sero was right. denki is not taking this seriously, at all. because this is stupid, you and hanta always fight like this, and he has to hear all about sero’s new ‘get back plan’ every fucking time.

at least this time he gets a good fuck out of it.

“hey princess,” the blonde says when he realises the camera’s facing him now. he throws a lazy peace sign at sero’s phone with a grin.

yeah, he’s gonna get a good fuck out of this.

he can already tell. sero came to him with an ‘idea’ which was just cornering him in the kitchen and pressing his boner into the crease of denki’s ass and murmuring lowly in his ear, asking him to come up to his room and ‘help him out with something’.

if he had known then, that he was about to make a sex tape with his bestfriend, he would've oiled up for the camera.

instead he's shirtless, hair tousled, the corner of his shitty sonic tattoo poking out from under his waistband, and emoting like a dickhead.

just before he can do one last bicep flex, the camera flips back round to sero. eyebrow raised in distaste, the piercing catches the flash of the phone, he's rolling his eyes and scratching the corner of his nose.

"anyway," hanta clears his throat, slips back into that stupid fake nonchalant tone he gets when he’s sending you voice messages, “i remember you said you were into that whole ‘yaoi' thing.”

he snorts, like he's mocking you, "me n' denks were gonna bang, so, i figured," he's collapses onto the bed next to denki with no grace or care for where he lands, you can hear denki complain in the background. "why not show you what you're missing?"

he grabs the blonde by the face, squishing his cheeks with his palms and drags his face into the picture. both of 'em cheesing at the phone, with matching hazy eyes and drooping smiles. like ying and yang with equal degrees of swag and stupidity across them both.

denki runs his tongue across his teeth, he’s been waiting for sero to do something for a minute, to touch him, to touch himself, a kiss, anything.

instead sero’s still fumbling with his phone, trying to figure out where’s he’s gonna put it to get the perfect angle.

and denki’s tired of waiting.

“dude,” the blonde’s voice is lower now, softer, two steps away from a whisper. “dude, dude— hanta.”

there’s a shiver that snakes it’s way up sero spine when he hears denki say his name. it’s weirdly intimate, in a way it’s not normally. it scratches an itch somewhere deep in his gut.

denki sighs again, impatient, borderline pouting at the lack of attention. but his gaze is heavy lidded, and his voice is syrupy. “just hold it for now, you can put it down later.”

and sero’s easy. they both know this. that’s why denki takes it upon himself to crawl over to where his best friend is still sat on the edge of the bed.

“you’re thinking ‘bout this too much,” he winks at the camera, hands running up and down the faded material coating hanta’s thighs.

as he curls his fingers around hanta’s waistband, nails gently tracing the exposed skin, “let’s just do what we normally do.”

hanta’s disembodied groan echoes, “yeaaah—ngh, yeah,” denki palming his erection through the fabric, “yeah, you’re so fuckin’ right.”

denki smirks at the shaking camera, because he knows, whenever you watch this, that you’re thinking what he’s thinking.

he traces the tip of hanta’s weeping cock through the fabric, softly, barely there, so easily pulling groans out from his friend. it’s so easy to get sero worked up, a bat of your eyelashes, the promise of a blowjob, he’s already half way to busting.

“hanta,” denki coos again. coy. so fucking coy. batting his pretty eyelashes with that doe-eyed look on his face, of course sero was a goner. the camera is visibly shaking from where he’s trying to keep the screen tilted. the blonde paws at his waistband, “lemme suck you off, real quick, i promise.”

what’s a guy to do?

fuck, he can’t do anything. except gulp, audibly. and nod his head like an overeager puppy.

but denki wants to have fun, why not. isn’t this supposed to be a show, a show for you, something sweet to wash out the bitter taste of the toxicity of your ‘relationship’ with hanta, in the first place.

“that’s not an answer,” slow, syrupy, as he licks his lips, eyes directed at hanta through the phone screen. he’s gone back to featherlight touches.

you both know sero loves this the most.

the build-up, the steady climb upwards. and every breath, every stutter, every sigh, every moan, in between then and now, he inhales all of it. almost like he enjoys this more than actually getting his nut. the act of dangling the pleasure in front of his face, just out of reach but so easily obtainable.

“m’sorry,” he exhales, eyes fluttering at the mere idea of denki’s mouth on his cock, “wan’ you t’suck my—fu-uck—”

shit, he would’ve dropped his phone if not for the burning desire for you to see this too, because denki’s mouth is like velvet.

the fleshy walls of his inner cheeks coax thick dribbles of pre-cum out of hanta’s throbbing cock. that perfect fuckin’ tongue of his glazes the underside in hypnotic waves, and all hanta can do is sit there and take it, let denki make a mess outta him.

it feels disgustingly good as the blonde pools his saliva and spits it right back onto him, that hanta can’t help but whine, low in the back of throat.

it’s a shame you can’t see his face. the way he tips his head back exposing the deep flush that blooms underneath the hickeys layering the column of his throat. his eyes, dark, dazed, and actively rolling back into his head, then fluttering closed, automatic, the puppet strings of his pleasure being pulled taut.

but you’d be able to hear how he hisses, “shii-it,” you’d be able to hear the pants pattering within his lungs increasing in volume every second, and the broken groans echoing in his chest with each bob of denki’s head.

you’d definitely get a clear view of denki. you’d see his mouth stretched around the base of hanta’s cock, bulge pressing against his cheek, visible from the outside, nose flush against the dark hair of his crotch.

and you know exactly what that smells like, if you inhaled now you’d probably still get notes of it. of that musk, the sweet sweat, that thing that is so uniquely hanta, that you could recognise with your eyes closed.

unlike denki, who’s dewey eyes are half lidded and fixed directly onto the camera. he’s a show off, he can’t help it, it just comes naturally to him at times like this. he might be laying it on a bit thick, swollen lips glistening with spit and jizz, eyelashes wet like lily stalks after rainfall. tears beading in his water line. the soft pout on his face as he slaps hanta’s cock against his lips, again, and again, and again.

but the dick-drunk daze in his eyes is real enough.

enough to let you know, whenever you do watch this, that denki’s cock is probably just as leaky as hanta's. in fact, if you're paying attention, you'd be able to see the way his hips roll, ever so slightly, and the friction making his mouth water. every subtle shift is just another drag of his cock against, either hanta's mattress, or, plainly, the material confining him.

either way, it's hot as fuck.

hanta seems to think so, "t-that's it, yeah, all the way into-nngh, shit, just. like. that."

deeper and deeper, all the way down into denki's throat, all the way down—

and that's where the picture goes black. muffled. fuck.

lucky for hanta.

because i doubt he'd want you to hear how wrecked he sounded, how animalistic. or see the primal instincts that caused him to grab denki's hair with both palms, white knuckled grip, and breed his throat. or watch him lose all composure as he forces the blonde to swallow every last drop.

and i doubt denki would've wanted you to see the way he limply accepted it, came back for seconds even, licking up every last spurt of his best friend's frothy cum. or the way he whimpered pathetically when he matched pace, and made a mess all over himself.

or the way he said thank you, afterwards.

or how hanta had grabbed him by the face and yanked the blonde back down on top of him. or how their mouths mashed together, hanta slurping the remnants of his own cum from the crevices of denki's mouth.

and i seriously doubt either one would've wanted you to see the electric current of overstimulation that phased through them both, after their sticky spent cocks made contact, in matching, delicious, pathetic humps.

or the way they spent the next twenty minutes torturing each other with the sensation, twitchy bodies and dazed grins.

…end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

ermmm… haiiiii thank you for waiting 🫪

warnings — lactation kink, mommy kink, choso cums in his pants <3. mdni (17+).

choso loves holding your heavy, swollen tits full of milk for your newborn baby. you saw this as your husband being thoughtful and caring, thinking he was always gently massaging them because you mentioned how it felt a bit uncomfortable at times.

when in reality that’s far from the truth.

choso kept his hands glued to your boobs because he couldn’t get enough of the way it felt when your tits would leak, seeping through the fabric of your shirt and wetting the material along with his hands in the process, resulting in him getting hard within a matter of seconds.

even when he wasn’t touching them, the moment he heard the annoyance in your voice of having to clean yourself up again, his eyes were fixed on your blouse. he felt bad knowing there was nothing he could do to help, but it was an extreme turn on for him.

his heart ached every time seeing that it was all going to waste as your top drank it all up instead of him and his mouth. he sneaks off the bathroom everyday and wraps his hand his thick cock, jerking it to the thought of you, and your milky tits every time.

he knows it’s wrong, taboo really, but he so desperately wants to drink from your leaky tits, stealing his little son’s nutrients.

how selfish.

tonight, it’s choso’s turn to go take care of the screaming baby that just woke up and get him back to sleep. after nearly an hour, choso finally drags himself back into the bedroom after putting his son to sleep. again.

you’ve got your back pressed against the headboard as you flip to the next page in the book you’re reading, grinning at him as he walks towards the bed.

although he hasn’t mentioned it, he’s been extremely needy and as a matter of fact, you’ve been too. choso takes this opportunity before the baby possibly wakes up again to have an intimate moment with you, and to his delight, you’re not against it. you don’t resist as choso initiates it, leaning in to press his lips against yours.

instinctively, his hand trails up your shirt to play with your tits. he squeezes them can feel the milk squirt out even through your bra, causing him to moan into the kiss as his dick stirs to life.

the blunts been out for a minute now, both you and hanta leaned back on the couch facing each other and he’s watching how your eyes stay locked on his abdomen. he flexes subtly and smirks when he sees you press your thighs together.

“you have like.. muscles right?” you drag your eyes back up to his face.

“mhm.” his tongue slides along his bottom lip.

“like abs?” you glance down.

“wanna see?” he tilts his head.

“yes!” you answer too quick, nodding too fast.

“phaha bet you do.” he tosses his head back.

“hanta please?” you let out a little whine.

“come take my shirt off then.” he leans back even further, spreading his legs and looking at you with those heavy eyes.

you crawl across the couch and straddle his hips, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt before you tug it up. you let out a small sound when his muscles come into view while he pulls his shirt the rest of the way off. his stomach flexes when you trace your fingers over the ridges before flattening your palm.

“well?” he raises his brows.

“i..” you blink at him, mind blank besides his muscles. “i wanna ride em.” you whisper.

“what kinda freaky shit do you watch?” he grins, grabbing your waist and scooting you up from his hips to press your cotton shorts right against his abs.

“i just.. i read that- oh!” you gasp, pressing yourself harder and rolling your hips.

“you read about this..” he looks up at you, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your warm skin under your shirt. “and thought about me?” he chuckles when you cover your face.

“hanta don’t be mean.” you stop moving but he picks up your pace right away, pressing you down even harder until- “nghh!!”

“c’mon babygirl.” he coos. “show me that pretty face. ohhh there she is.” he smiles when he sees your wobbling lip. “show me what you read about.” he nods.

you roll your hips, whimpering when your shorts bunch and give you that perfect friction on your clit. you chase the feeling, eyes fluttering shut, tummy blooming with hot pleasure. you gasp when you feel his fingertips tracing up your sides, soft, delicate. he circles your covered nipple and your pace breaks, breath getting caught as he continues his teasing.

“y’look perfect.” he brushes his thumbs over the hardened buds. “you feeling good? this everything you thought it would be?” he flexes his muscles and your face twists.

“yes! mmmf hanta!”

he takes one of your nipples between his fingers, rolling it and tugging softly, smirking at the way you buck your hips. his other hand moves up, dragging a finger up the center of your throat and tracing your lips. he taps once and you part your lips for him to press the pad of his finger on your tongue.

your head’s fuzzy, body so hot you feel the sweat dripping down your neck as you work yourself up. he’s talking so sweetly, touching you like you’re porcelain and with one more tug on your nipple and a flex of his abs your hips still as you lean forward giving him the perfect view of your face as you cum.

he watches you pant, eyes blinking open softly as you come down. “you read about face riding?” he grins.

a mha college au FEAT. DENKI K.

“and she's on top of me, and it is hot, hot, hot.”

disclaimer; i dont fw mcafferty, at all. but the song is so him.

the fruits of mine and @kamislop ‘s freaksations

mdni. cw: mutual masturbation, they’re practically edating, gooner x gooner, fingering, premature ejaculation, ummm, what else, unprotected sex, does that count as grown folk sex or not, riding for like five minutes, mommy kink (sorry i had to sneak it in there), whiney pathetic denki, so nothing new, bad language, recreational drug use, virgin denki, virgin reader. reader is thick fem coded. this is so meta

wc: 3.9k

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

starting track….

you've never actually met denki kaminari.

which is weird.

because, at this point, he's basically integrated himself into your daily routine.

he's the first person you speak to when you wake up, the last person you message before you go to sleep. the first person you go to text when something happens, small things, big things, bullshit that no one else is going to understand, movie reviews, song recommendations.

you've followed each other for... god, maybe two years now? one of those internet mutual situations. it was either a tiktok comment, or an instagram comment he posted that had you snorting at your screen so hard, you had to follow the guy with the pikachu profile picture, immediately.

always the first person to like your stories, to slide up with stupid reaction gifs, or drooling emojis. and then following it with 5 minute rants about how "this jjk arc is actually about the burden of adolescence", completely serious.

sometimes you’ll post something and before you’ve even locked your phone again—

LMAOOOOO

who pissed you off this time

or

okay but hear me out

followed by the worst take you’ve ever read in your life.

but you reply every time. because his exact ratio of funny to horny is just so perfectly calibrated to your freakquency.

you’ll post a selfie and get:

good lord.

then thirty seconds later:

WAIT WAIT WAIT

i need to rant

and suddenly he’s voice-noting you for four straight minutes about drama inside his friend group.

people you technically know. well. not know know. but know in the way internet mutuals know people. through usernames, blurry instagram stories, occasional re-posts, overheard names.

sero said this, jirou blocked someone, mina got too drunk at a house party, bakugou pushed him down the stairs, again.

and denki relays all of it to you like a disgraced court jester bringing gossip to the queen.

you’ll be brushing your teeth at midnight listening to him say some shit like, “NO because tell me why this grown man started shadowboxing in the function because somebody drank his monster.”

and you’re laughing so hard toothpaste nearly goes down your shirt.

it’s easy with him. so easy. easy to reply, easy to keep talking, easy to accidentally spend three hours discussing whether eren yeager was doomed by narrative structure or just mentally ill.

and then you’ll realise it’s four in the morning and your phone’s on 2%.

and he’s still typing, still there. that little green dot beside his name.

because he's always online. chronically.

you don't think there has been a single moment recorded in history where denki hasn't been within five feet of his phone. he'll snap you back when he's on the toilet, mid shit, phone still clutched in his hands. he'll text when you when he's on the train, replies with typos so bad you can physically hear how fast he was typing. snaps while he's walking home.

so eventually, eventually, obviously, inevitably, the natural progression of things.

he starts sending you voice messages while he's jerking off.

your own personal whimper audio plug.

you can't really remember when that started. actually, no, you can…

he’d just finished the third arc of this anime you recommended and absolutely had to call you at two in the morning to tell you exactly what he thought about it. and you were online anyways, active two minutes ago right there beside your profile picture.

only problem is, someone just happened to be mid goon sesh. vibrator pressed to your clit, toes clenched, sweating under your blankets, thighs drenched in your own slick, room dark except for the glow of your phone screen.

you're still not really sure what possessed you to press accept on his call, and you're even less sure why you continued to pleasure yourself with him rambling down the phone.

maybe it was the confidence that comes with anonymity, the fact that he doesn't know you in real life. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was the fact he actually listened to you, watched the things you recommended, came back wanting your opinions like they matter, like you matter.

or maybe he's just… easy to listen to? warm, animated, endearing. the soothing tone of his voice, of him snickering at his own jokes.

“…right? like i’m not saying he was justified, but if that happened to me i probably would’ve done worse.... what d’you think?”

“i—” your voice catches, badly. you bite down hard on your lip, trying to stifle your moans, “umm—ngh—sorry, what?”

there’s immediate shuffling on his end.

“oh shit,” denki backtracks quickly. “sorry, were you asleep? fuck, my bad dude, just call me back in the morning—”

"no!" you reply, too fast, too desperate, you fucking— what the fuck is wrong with you, “no... s’fine. just… keep talking.”

there's a beat, a pause, and then, "oh, uhhh, okay...?" he continues on, rambling, but his voice is lower, slower, calmer, like he’s suddenly hyper-aware of every sound coming through the phone.

finally, he throws in the towel, bites the bullet.

“…sorry— you can literally kill me if i’m wrong but… are you—”

he coughs, awkwardly.

“are you touching yourself?”

god.

you really should've lied.

should've hung up the phone, messaged him back in the morning, or something, literally anything else.

but, ohhh, you didn't even care at that point. your orgasm already building hot under your skin and there was something strangely intoxicating about the fact he could tell, that he was even listening close enough to notice.

“yeah,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself. “yeah… i’m playing with myself.”

your voice wrecked in a way denki had never heard before.

he’s quiet now, fuck, fuck, fuck, you blew it.

he’s probably cut the call, gonna tell all his friends what a weirdo you are, maybe post a story-time on his close friends about the pervy girl rubbing herself while on the phone to him.

but… the humiliation of him finding out doesn’t derail you from the path of pleasure you’re already walking down, and although you’d never admit it, it probably makes it hotter. you might as well finish, you can wallow in your self-pity tomorrow.

the vibrations sound louder now that you’re not being a self conscious freak. you’re whimpering softly while the buzzing echoes against the slick running down your thighs, wet and muffled beneath the blankets.

you can hear it.

so can denki.

“is that—” he swallows, and you flinch in surprise at his voice suddenly coming through the receiver again, but you don’t bother slowing down. “is that…is that your pussy? that—that noise?”

what noise, the bzzz-bzzz-squelch-squelch? is he serious, “what else would it be?”

“i don’t— i dunno, it just…” he stumbles over the words. “it just sounds so… so wet.”

“mhmmm,” yeah, yeah it really does sound so wet, doesn’t it.

“does it always get like that?”

“mhmmm.”

a shaky breath crackles through the phone.

and then,

“w-wish i could see.”

what?

what?

oh.

you almost sigh in real time, what did you even have to worry about? did you forget this is denki, denki kaminari, the same freak who once said he would 'fuck your armpit' as a 'joke.'

the thought barely settles before you finally notice another sound leaking through the phone.

rhythmic. wet.

fap-fap-fap.

you still immediately, fingers curling around your little bullet vibe to switch it off. were you seriously so distracted you didn’t notice? didn’t hear this, didn’t hear him?

the wet schilcks of his hand working his cock, "wish i could see—no- wish i c-could-could touch it—nngggh-oh fu-uck—wish i could-hck!- wish i could fuckin’ taste you."

worse than you, oh, he's waaaay worse than you.

“w-wish you were here,” his voice crackles through the receiver alongside another ruined, greedy, sound. “wish you could see how messy i got—”

“denki—”

“fuuuck,” he whines softly. “say my name again, please. please, i’m—”

“denki, you’re so gross.”

“hah— shiiit, yeah,” he sounds obscene, like he can barely get the words out, “that’s the stuff.”

and seriously? already? because you've barely been on the phone for five minutes, there's no way he got this bad, that quickly. but you can’t deny how much it makes your pussy throb.

“yeah i'm gross, but you're worse, you started it.”

and that was the start of it, and i wish i could say it ended there.

but it didn’t.

because even freaks get tired of e-sex at some point.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

it took a while for you guys to get to this point.

months of voice messages and facetimes, of teleparty and shared playlists, of beefing each other in comment sections and thirsting in dms.

and for denki, it all led to this moment.

your bedroom feels too warm.

his trainers are abandoned messily by your door beside your tote bag. one of your hoodies hangs off the back of your desk chair. fairy lights glow dim amber against the walls, mixing with the bluish light of your laptop screensaver bouncing around the dark room.

everything smells faintly like vanilla, fabric softener, and the weed the two of you smoked an hour ago with your bedroom window cracked open.

his hands shake.

so inexperienced and yet, so eager to please, they gently grope every inch of your body.

you never really enjoyed having your chest played with all that much, but there’s something about how denki’s heavy palm massages the underside of your tit, like he’s trying to unlock something, or explore.

and then his thumb brushes over your nipple, a shock to your system, you arch forward into his touch, body moving on auto pilot.

god, he wants to see you do it again.

he's dreamt about this, about this exact moment, for weeks. every stray thought, every dirty dream, you've plagued him.

mmmmm, and your body is so warm, and soft. inviting. his hands grip the flesh of your thighs, the fat bulging around his fingertips, the softness of your skin, right here, right here in front of him, not through a screen or part of a picture.

holy shit.

he really can’t take it.

because he's jerked off to the thought of you for so long, he's milked himself dry to the sound of your voice, he's wrung his cock to your smile, he's edged himself to the idea of what your hair would smell like, what your skin would feel like.

nutted all over his phone screen, humped his hand for hours.

he never thought he would even get the opportunity to meet you in real life, let alone be allowed into your bedroom, let alone have you underneath him, in nothing but panties and a fucking t-shirt.

he's literally trembling, his palms sweating as he grips you again, harder, firmer, like this is a dream, like if he blinks too much he might wake up, and he'll be back in his bed making a mess all over himself, another late-night fantasy while he’s half-delirious and horny, just like usual.

“denki, hey, dude, are you… good?”

but he's not at home, he's not in his bed, this isn't a wet dream, he's not gonna wake up to bakugou breaking his door down and telling him to take out the trash.

he shakes his head with a smile, “yeah, yeah, i'm good— sorry, i'm out of it.”

you’re definitely hiding it better, but you’re equally nervous.

so fucking nervous. you nearly cancelled last night because of how badly your stomach had twisted itself up. was he even gonna like you? would he still think you’re hot, even in real life? you barely slept, up all night thinking about what he was expecting, and whether you would meet those expectations.

if he knew how you were feeling, he probably would’ve slapped you or something. because this is better. this is so much better. so much better than dreaming or imagining, even now, the way you’re smiling up at him, glasses slipping down your nose, pretty eyes focused on him, and what he’s doing, and if he’s feeling okay.

you’re so perfect.

and he has to make you feel good, he needs to.

you spent the last two hours, half watching something on your laptop, and half making out.

and…

that was life changing.

it’s so indescribable, he still feels dizzy from it. how you felt in his lap, the warm heat of your body consuming his very being. the feeling of your tongue down his throat, his hands around your neck, your lips against his, he almost came, just like that, just from a little kissing.

can you really blame him.

it was so good.

but this is about to be better.

it's so easy for you to melt into him. maybe it's the nervous energy radiating off of him that calms your own nerves. you've always been that kind of person, quick to accommodate to other people’s needs, in tune with their feelings.

and denki wears his heart on his sleeve. he's easy to read, an open book. also his face is flushed a beautiful pink, he's panting, breathing heavily into your mouth, pupils blown wide every time you touch him.

so you kiss him again, just to relax him of course, certainly not because you're craving the feeling of him against you, his shirtless torso pressed flush against your chest.

it works though, he defrosts, relaxes, nearly crumples against you, against the soft swell of your chest, his hands snaking down the sides of your body, fingers dipping underneath the fabric and fuck, are you really—“this soft everywhere?”

you hum at his question, then quickly realise he's talking to himself, hypnotised by the feeling of your flesh, he has to be dreaming because there is actually no way you're really, “—so fuckin' soft, oh my god.”

he's still stuck on that? you click your tongue, as much as you would love to explore each other bodies in this PG-13 way, you've soaked yourself through your panties. maybe you're the real pervert, he's having a wonderful time just touching your skin, and all you're thinking about is how badly you want him inside you.

you do it yourself.

slip a hand in the gap between your bodies, your nervous, virgin, freaked out, bodies, and slide your fingers below the hem of your underwear. you barely graze your outer lips before he's snatching your hand, a little too rough, a little too hungry. he loosens his grip almost immediately but holds your gaze, “please, please let me do it, i promise it'll be good,” his thumb strokes nervously against the inside your wrist, “i— i'll be careful, i'll be gentle with you, i swear.”

who are you to say no? how could you, not when his hands slide down your thighs with gentle reverence, not when he clutches the hem of your panties like he's afraid he'll hurt them.

never mind, he can't do it.

he has to close his eyes, he can't look, can't watch the way your pussy juice clings to the fabric. he peeks open an eyelid, then closes it again. his heart is beating so fast he might throw up.

“denki, babe,” babe??? he nearly screeches, his eyes flutter open again, the faint smile that's painted on your face makes him spurt a tad, you really are perfect, “just breathe, okay, it's fine, you're doing great.”

you really have a way with words, because that kicks him into overdrive, he slips the fabric down so it pools around your knees, and, and, and he—

let’s out a strangled whimper when he sees your puffy pussy lips, drenched in your own slick.

“did i—” he swallows, panting, “did i do this t’you?” eyes transfixed on your trembling cunt. he drags a single finger through the mess, through your slick, until the digit is coated. hisses out a curse when he retracts the finger and there’s a string of your arousal that clings to it.

your arousal, your pussy, your fucking pussy, “g-god,” he slurs around the finger, licking up every last drop of you, and then inhaling deeply, the scent of your pussy making his eyes roll back into his head.

how has he come all this way, just to slurp your mess off of his finger and hump your mattress.

he has to pull it together.

but you’re making it so difficult.

“d'you know," a strangled groan cuts him off and he gulps, "d'you know, how often i’ve dreamt about this, it—”

he's using you like a fidget toy, two fingers dragging through your slick, drawing patterns, somewhat, mostly assessing the area. what makes you flinch, what makes you gasp, what makes you grip his shoulders with both your hands and beg him to keep going.

you dig your nails into him, while he traces your pulsing labia, the calluses of his fingertips trailing a path across your pussy, there's no way his cock can go in there, inside you, inside your mushy gummy walls, that are clenching around his fingers, there's no way he can go in there and come out alive. you'll strangle him to death and he'll never want to leave.

"she's so pretty," as he stares, absolutely mesmerised at the wetness coating his palm as his fingers scissor open your pussy. “so, fucking, pretty.”

and you’re really not making it any better for him, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, his hands feel so much better than your own. you let him know, verbally, but also with how your eyes glaze over, how your breathing stutters, how you lift your legs to wrap around him, to keep him there.

the pressure of your thighs pushes him further into your mattress, and there’s a spark of delicious, addicting, friction that catches him. causes him to twitch against you, crash his mouth into yours, sharing each other’s whimpers.

you can’t go on like this, you try to open your mouth, to speak, to tell him to hurry up and stick his fucking dick in you already. but he doesn’t let you, he’s already lost, of course he is.

the weakest, most pathetic humps, his crotch positioned perfectly in between your legs but also resting on the bed below. so when he grinds his hips down there’s a shock that travels up his spine, but your bodies are close enough that he if he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s actually fucking you.

denki’s such an idiot.

your pussy right there, he’s literally cupping your warmth with his palm, fingers prodding against your g-spot, and yet all he can do is imagine, slip off into a daydream where he’s fucking you for real.

and you have a feeling that if you don’t do something to snap him out of it right now, he’d spend the whole night doing just that. pretending to fuck you in his head, while you’re right there, right here, squirming underneath him.

he’s lucky you think he’s cute.

“denki, baby…”

he inhales like he’s just been dunked into a tub of ice water, his eyes snap up from where they’d spiralled over watching his fingers disappear inside you, the creamy slick coating the digits, the heat, the—

“denki?”

“hmm?” god he’s so hot, and still so fucking adorable, he’s pouting like you’ve pulled him away from something important.

“don’t you wanna… put it in?”

put it in? put it in? put what in— oh, oh right. of course, of course he does, but his eyebrows raise like he didn’t realise that was an option.

he fumbles one handed, nearly knocks himself over in his haste to undo his belt, fucking stupid belt, the clasp gets stuck and he, fuck it’s fine, it’s all good, he’s so normal about this.

you motion like you’re about to offer assistance, then his cock springs out, slaps against his stomach and…

oh, oh, the poor thing.

flushed, angry at being ignored, bright pink, and leaking. leaking all over his abs, all over his stomach, the inside of his jeans, the inside of his boxers.

fucking hell.

you nearly start laughing, not mocking, more like, when you’ve been sat at a restaurant for so long, hungry, waiting, for ages, and then they finally bring the food out, and it’s so:

yummy.

that’s it.

you pounce on him like he’s prey, practically manhandle him into laying flat on his back, and clamber over his thighs, your legs bracketing his hips.

and denki moans like a fucking whore.

“oh, holy shit,” his hands twitch like he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to touch you, but he really can’t stop running his mouth like, “you’re gonna—gonna ride me- oh, pleasepleaseplease—”

his voice cracks right down the middle when you finally, finally, sink down.

shit, it is a stretch, despite how long he spent playing with your cunt, but it’s so fucking delicious, mhmmm, you both feel it, the drag of his weeping veiny cock sweeping along the walls of your pussy.

and for the first time all night, he’s quiet.

dead silent.

you think his nose might start bleeding.

his lips, bitten, chapped, parted, rushed puffs of air leaving his body, eyes rolled back into his head, then fluttering, like his soul is being exorcised.

the dam breaks.

“is it— is it supposed to feel like this?” he’s delirious, cloudy eyed and drunk, “holy shi-iiit—can't believe it feels this good.”

he grips your thighs, tight enough to leave bruises, and whimpers when you grind down against him and your tits bounce, right in his fucking face.

“edged myself for th-three days,” he confesses as he drools into your skin, he can't look you in the eye, he presses his mouth against your chest and murmurs, “saved up so much cum for you, all for you.”

“can you feel me, all the way inside.” he presses down on your lower stomach, the pressure makes your toes curl, “c-can’t believe i’m inside you, can’t believe you let me—oh, oh, fuck, wait, don’t—”

don’t what? don’t clench around his cock. don’t clamp down on him with your hot gummy walls. don’t pull him back in when he tries to move. how are you supposed to do that?

“gonna— gonna give you so much cum,” small, sloppy semi-upward thrusts, he can't even move properly, just humping up against you like a dog, “m'gonna make you feel so good, gonna fill you up— m-make you feel so fucking good—”

he's slurring, drunk off your pussy, drunk off you, “i hafta— hafta, m-m-make— good, gonna be good— gonna be a good boy."

suddenly he's spilling into you, ropes and ropes, of milky white nut, flooding your pussy, filling you to the brim.

but he doesn't stop moving.

in fact, you don’t know how he mustered up the strength after that pathetic display, but he flips you over, so you’re underneath him again, hisses when his cock slips out, still so fucking hard, still dribbling, one hand gripping your thigh, the other rubbing circles on your clit.

“i c-can keep going— can't stop, not 'till you cum too, i promise, i p-promise i'll keep going mommy.”

overstimulation tears through him, his nerves are fried, but still he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, doesn't give himself a minute to catch his breath. just his cock, hammering into you, drilling into your pussy, “keep—ngh-keep going, gotta k-k-keep going…”

you're in for a long night.

… end of playback.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

@kamislop @dotalicious @lonelyfooryouonly @tsushimimi @tokkushin

this is a mixtape madness fic, drop a request and i’ll get back to you:

okayyyy but making out with katsuki while your fingers are in the waistband of his pants? woah okay let’s talk about it. he always puts up the nonchalant act, pretending none of this fazes him (you hate it but it’s so sexy). your hands are absolutely fucking freezing today, and for some reason that’s really getting him going, making his skin more sensitive than normal. he’s grunting into your mouth while you nibble on his lip, fingers moving lower n’ lower into his pants. he thinks he’s gonna cum in his pants right then and there.

“y’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

and why yes, you absolutely do, that’s why you brush your fingers over his hardened cock, making him shockingly let out a little whimper. you’re both too turned on to care what kind of noise comes out of either of you. you reply simply,

“i know katsuki, but i don’t think you mind.”

i haven’t written anything in forever but @tokkushin told me to and i’m easily influenced!

Imagine you beg and beg and beg your partner to fuck to silly but they say no because they have company coming over for a few hours. You continue to ask and beg and eventually they give in and say “you aren’t going to like this.” They then pick you up and carry you to your bedroom. You get thrown on the bed and then they grab a vibrator and put it in your cunt and turn it to a medium setting. As soon as they hit that button, you hear a faint knock at the door.

“Keep quiet.”

They then leave and close the door but leaving behind the smallest crack. You can hear the talking with their friend and you let out the smallest whine and the vibrations are starting to mess with you. You then squeal a bit louder as it hits your g-spot. You feel the vibrations speed up by 2. While you whine and try to keep quiet, you faintly hear them talking about something random and you lose yourself for a second and then moan pretty loudly. You then feel it speed all the way up and now you’re squirming in your bed with your face in the pillow to keep a quiet voice.

“What was that?” The friend asked.

“Nothing, probably just outside or something.”

You, with your tear-streaked face, are struggling to keep your voice quiet. As you hear the front door close and lock, you then hear footsteps.

“Tsk tsk tsk, Can’t even be quiet for a bit can you?” You hear your partners voice from the doorway.

“I-I’m sorry- fuck..just please turn it down…”

Then all you hear is