Nixie

INCELBUR who posts about that night. how you came over when you were drunk, how he was such a gentleman who didn't push you to fuck him. he could have, he could have so easily pinned you to that bed and taken what he wanted. but he didn't, and did you even thank him? no. you left before the sun even came up, leaving him alone. always alone.

INELCBUR who reads the responses to his post, the other men on the internet tell him he's such a gentleman for not taking advantage of you. that you're such a cunt, a typical femoid behaviour to not even reward a high value man for resisting his urges. he writes more, talking about how he wasted months of his time talking to you. so much money on fortnite skins, movie tickets and video games. and what did it get him? fucking nothing.

INCELBUR who finds himself back in bed, sweatpants discarded across the room and his cock in his hand. he things of your slutty mouth on his, how you'd kissed him so easily while drunk. he should have realised what a slut you were, how easy you put out. you are always posting those selfies in your underwear, did you want him to take you that night? all females are the same, playing mind games and using men like toys.

INCELBUR who doesn't take long to finish once he imagines all the depraved things he should have done that night. the tears sliding down your cheeks, how you'd shamefully cum on his cock, how he'd fill you up and knock you up even if you didn't want his kids. maybe once you're pregnant you'd realise your place- serving him.

INCELBUR who finally finds the note you wrote when he reaches for a 2 day old can of monster energy on his bedside table. you wrote it on the back of an ubereats receipt. your handwriting is perfect, he imagines your delicate fingers wrapped around the pen and he sniffs the paper. it smells like your body lotion, just barely.

"hey wilbur, sorry i didn't see you this morning i had to rush to work. i shouldn't have kissed last night. i was drunk and wasn't thinking clearly, and i'm sorry to have given you false hope. you know i don't like you like that but i hope we can remain friends."

INCELBUR who sees red as he reads the note. the muscles in his hands tense before he rips the paper into tiny pieces that join the mess on his floor. of course. of fucking course. you knew it would hurt to kiss him that night, and you did it anyway. he doesn't believe your excuse of being drunk, you must have planned this from the start. you befriended him, talked to him and made him fall in love with you just to pull his heart from his chest and stomp on it. he hates you, hates that thinking of you makes his cock twitch and chest ache.

INCELBUR who ignores the fact you are on do not disturb and calls you a dozen times on discord. you don't pick up. it makes him angrier. he wants to scream at you, tell you how much of a cunt you are for doing this. why couldn't you be different? why did you have to be like every dumb bimbo on this planet? he could have made you such a beautiful wife, and you threw him away even though he is a high value male.

INCELBUR who messages you on every social media he has. at first its begging for you to respond, so that he can tell you how much you hurt him. then it turns mean, it turns violent. he starts to threaten you, tells you what he'll do when he gets his hands on you. you'll regret breaking his heart like this. you deserve to be scared.

INCELBUR who is encouraged by the forums to keep messaging you, even though you aren't responding. he's sure you've read the paragraphs, you are always on your phone. he imagines you crying, upset that you've hurt him. maybe you'll call him and beg for forgiveness. then it can be his turn to break your heart when he rejects you. he can find better, a femoid who actually treats him like a king. who cooks, cleans and sucks his cock because she knows that's what she is meant to do.

INCELBUR who finds his most recent message isn't sending, you've blocked him. he moves to snapchat, but you've blocked him there. what the fuck? you think you can just run away from the consequences of your actions? you are so naive, like all women. he needs to show you that it isn't that easy, women already live life on easy mode. he won't let you get away from him.

INCELBUR who puts the pocket knife he got at a corner store years ago in his backpack. he isn't going to use it, he tells himself. it's just so he can scare you, make you cry so you apologise to him. he isn't going to actually hurt you, right?

INCELBUR who actually shows up to school on time the next day. not because he plans on studying and passing his classes, but to see you. you aren't at your usual spot in the library, the spot where he used to sit and study with you. for a moment he feels an ache in his chest when he remembers how you'd lean over and double check his notes, your perfume flooding his sense. no, no he doesn't care about that anymore. he can't.

INCELBUR who walks around the school looking for you. he shoulders past other students who glare at him but he doesn't care, he needs to find you. needs to make you pay. the knife burns in his pocket, he swears he can hear it whispering his name before he finally sees you. you're walking between school buildings, headphones on. probably listening to that band you like, the one he obsessed over so he had something to talk to you about.

INCELBUR who feels like a passenger in his own body when he runs up to you, grabbing you by the arm. you don't scream, just look at him with wide eyes. he drags you off the path, just out of sight of any nearby students. his hands a shaking, and you are already crying. it feels good, he feels powerful knowing you are scared of him.

"why the fuck did you block me? i thought you said i was your friend! but you went and fucked me over, broke my heart on purpose! you are such a bitch, you know that?"

"wilbur, please- i'm sorry. i-i didn't mean to upset you, i wasn't thinking clearly and-"

"shut up, i don't want your excuses. don't you know how i could have fucking raped you that night? i didn't, because i'm a nice guy. and you still won't even give me a chance!"

"p-please, let me go. you're h-hurting my arm and scaring me..."

INCELBUR who squeezes your arm so tight he's sure you'll have bruises from his bony fingers digging into the soft skin. with his free hand he grabs the knife from his pocket, and you scream. he wasn't going to stab you... he isn't crazy. he's a nice guy! why are you screaming, don't you know that?

INCELBUR who barely has time to lift the knife up to your arm before he's being tackled to the ground. the world seems to move in slow motion as he hits the dirt, the knife being yanked from his fingers before he can realise what's happening. some of the boys from school had heard your screams and came over to save you. of course, they are on the football team. those guys have always hated him.

INCELBUR who is pinned to the ground by one of the boys, watching you cry as another comforts you before a teacher shows up. he feels guilty, probably for the first time in days. he thought he'd feel good seeing you cry, thought it would be satisfying to see you hurt like he is. but instead it gives him a headache, and he wishes you were seeking comfort in his arms instead of chat chad.

INCELBUR who moves through the rest of the day like a zombie, a blur as his life is changes because of his stupid actions. he remembers talking to the headmaster who suspends him, which of course he deserves. he's a monster. he tried to hurt the best thing that had ever happened to him.

INCELBUR who watches the staff go through his phone, finding all the recordings and photos of you. they tell him they'll be passing the information onto the police and he doesn't respond with anything more that a sigh. god, he's such an idiot. why is he such an emotional bitch? he's acting like a female now, thinking with his heart when he should have been using facts and logic.

INCELBUR who makes burner accounts to spam you online, trying to apologise. the messages jump from begging for forgiveness and blaming you for all his problems. he's a mess, even his mother is threatening to kick him out. but where would he go? he has no jobs, no friends, no fucking reason for living. how did you even manage to convince him that he did?

INCELBUR who doesn't bother coming back to school once his suspension is over, he just drops out. the thought of going back to campus, knowing you are just out of reach makes him sick. there was no point in finishing his degree, he didn't believe he could keep a job anyway.

INCELBUR who spends his days drunk in his room, it's somehow messier now he doesn't have any reason to leave the house. he uses burner accounts to stalk you on social media, seeing you smiling and happy. he remembers how it made him feel important when you'd smile at him. the thought makes him feel sick now, and he finishes the rest of the bottle.

INCELBUR who comes to your house in the middle of the night, over a month since he had last seen you. he just wanted to be near you again, tell you he's sorry. that it was just a spur of the moment thing, that he isn't really that bad. he can be better, you can make him better. it's two in the morning and he slams his fists against the door, struggling to stand up straight due to intoxication.

INCELBUR who feels like crying when you open the door just a crack, the chain stopping him from pulling it open. you look terrified, but you're still so beautiful. those pyjamas, your hair a little messy from sleep. he wants to kiss you. the memory of your lips is faded now, but it stays in his mind constantly.

"wilbur, please leave me alone. you shouldn't be here."

".... i just, missed you.. wanted to see your pretty face.... so pretty..."

"you need to go home, i don't want to talk to you. i'll call the cops if i have to."

"baby, please... let me in.... w-wanna apologise to you. let me k-kiss you better, please love... i'm so sorry.. forgive me..."

INCELBUR who throws up over your front steps, tears sliding down his cheeks when he watches you shut the door. he cries out your name, slamming his fists again the door until his hands hurt. he falls to his knees, sobbing loudly. he doesn't notice time has passed until the red and blue flashing lights of a cop car pulling up in your driveway draw his attention away from the thought of you.

INCELBUR who gets charged with stalking and harassment. his life is falling apart, all because he failed you. it's all your fault, you fucking pushed him too far, made him crazy so he ruined his life. his mother won't pay for legal representation so he gets a public defender that tells him to just plead guilty. the screenshots, the history of violence, the public threats, it isn't worth fighting.

INCELBUR who pleads guilty and gets charged. he's lucky it's just two years of community service, the judge taking pity on him since he's young. he couldn't care less about that, it's the restraining order that makes him upset. he isn't allowed to talk to you ever again, online or in person. if he get's within fifteen metres of you he'll go to jail, the justice system won't go easy on him the second time around.

INCELBUR who always thinks of you when he jerks off, even though its been months since you stopped being apart of his life, you're still apart of his heart. his hand wrapped around his cock as he touches him self, sitting on the same bed where you had kissed him. made him feel desirable for a few hours. when he finishes he moans your name, tears in his eyes.

INCELBUR who keeps tabs on you online, seeing how your life changes. he see's you partying less and working more, and soon you are graduating with that degree you told him you were so excited to get. he see's you get a boyfriend, a man who is unlike him in everyway. it's been years since he saw you, but he still dreams of you every night.

INCELBUR who finds out that you've moved across the country, and he considered moving to follow you. he can't afford to of course, not with just job at mcdonalds and tiny studio apartment he pays way to much for. but he imagines it, even after you post about your engagement. he wants to fly over, object at the wedding and swoop you off your feet. he imagines a world where you'd say yes and marry him instead.

INCELBUR who cries when he sees you've had your first child, the kid has another mans eyes. but you look happy, you are so happy. you'll be a great mum, he just wishes that you'd raise his children instead. it's been almost a decade and he is still a virgin. he hasn't even been on a single date. why bother? when he knows the woman of his dreams isn't his to cherish because he ruined the one chance he had with her.

INCELBUR who will love you for the rest of his life, knowing that you've probably forgotten he exists.

--==--

☰ Bakugo:

ꕤ He's just as bold and explosive as always

ꕤ Kisses with Bakugo are always a surprise, wild but with a gentle undertone. From time to time they're hungry, needing you like his lungs need oxygen

ꕤ His hands are holding you close, almost in a possessive way

ꕤ either planted on your waist, one arm flung around you to stop you from leaving until he had enough or resting against your cheeks / neck

ꕤ No matter what he likes to be in control of the situation but the moment you move your hands into his hair, slowly letting them creep there from the nape of his neck - he's done for

ꕤ He will melt in your hands, becoming nothing but yours. You're his and he's yours

ꕤ The world seems to fade away when your lips are locked together, his tongue dominating yours with ease but you don't mind

ꕤ You hand him the reigns, allowing him to let himself go and fall into the safety net that is your embrace

ꕤ Bakugo is utterly yours in this moment and it's you who has power over him but you let him believe otherwise

ꕤ Especially when his rough hands start to roam your body, desperately grabbing on your clothes and skin when the kiss deepens

ꕤ More times than not you’ll find yourself wrapped in the soft sheets with him, limbs tangled, bodies connected

☰ Kirishima:

ꕤ Eijiro Kirishima has the softest lips out there, kissing him feels like straight up out of a dream

ꕤ He likes to have you sit on his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips

ꕤ His kisses start soft and gentle before this urge to have you even closer takes over and his arms wrap around you tighter

ꕤ Please let your tongue slide into his mouth, he likes it when you're a little more dominant

ꕤ Whenever you two part to take a breath he either looks at you as if you put the stars in the sky just for him or he kisses your neck with so much love and devotion

ꕤ If your lips aren't back on his fast enough he will audibly whine for more, the whine turning into a satisfied hum the moment your lips lock again

ꕤ No matter how deep the kiss gets, he's always so gentle with you

ꕤ His hands might be big and strong but he touches you with utmost care

ꕤ You can tell that he wants more when his kisses get needy, little whimpers escaping him whenever your tongue glides against his

ꕤ But he has too much respect for you, needing you to initiate anything if you want more

ꕤ After all, Eijiro is all about worshiping you and the ground you walk on

☰ Denki:

ꕤ What a fool oh my he's always so nervous whenever you two are alone together

ꕤ Clammy hands, a little stutter and suddenly he remembers all the times you witnessed him with a fried brain

ꕤ But when your lips just brush his, it's quiet. His head is finally silent, no thoughts racing, no doubts screaming

ꕤ It's only you in that moment and his lips eagerly kiss yours

ꕤ He's a little too eager from time to time - noses bumping, teeth clashing but neither of you mind, giggling into the kisses

ꕤ His tongue will caress yours without any warning but when you start caressing his tongue with yours his hands clamp down on your hips

ꕤ More times than not he actually gives you little electric shocks, nothing severe but enough to tickle or squirm

ꕤ it's embarrassing for him at first but hearing you giggle is music to his ears and all your squirming does have quite the effect on him

ꕤ His hands always end up on your chest after a few minutes of making out, peppering kisses over your neck before kissing the corner of your lips

ꕤ Every time you two make out it ends up with you two playing with each other's body

Michael

A deep hum rolls from the back of his throat and that's the most he acknowledges at first. It's always there, in the back of his head, that primal desire lingering with the fact you have his mask tattooed on your skin. The ultimate devotion to him, his mark permanently embedded in your skin. The next time he falls into bed with you, he's a bit more softer than usual. His hips are still rocking heavily into yours, creaking the bed and slamming it into the wall with his hard thrusts.

"Good girl." Is the only thing his deep voice rasps before he pulls you flush to his broad chest.

Thomas

He doesn't know why you did this but he's really, really interested in the design. Tommy sort of makes a confused whimper when he first looks at it. His usual mask, lower mouth covered by sullied bandages surrounded by small flowers. Tommy is really into the way he can stare at the ink on your skin as he pounds into your cunt with deep, passionate fervor. He'll fold you into whatever position is most comfortable for you, as long as he can stare at the tattoo while he does. He really loves it.

Billy/Stu

The moment you come home with the new tattoo both men can't keep their hands off of you--not to say they ever kept their hands off of you before the tattoo but now it's even more. They'll both be mindful of your tattoo in the healing process, either male eager to help you apply lotion to it. They're very happy that you got it tattooed on your thigh and will angle you in any way they can so they both can have a view of it from where they fuck you. Usually it's Billy on top and Stu beneath you, both working in and out of you in tandem to pull out sweet noises.

"Fuck, baby, you're so fucking hot. Got a tattoo of the scary Ghostface mask and now have the Ghostfaces fuck you?" Billy purred, teeth scraping against your ear. Stu's grip tightens at your hips to slam you down faster in his lap.

Sal (bc of my sal tatt my fave bb <3)

Pretty blue boy can't help the way his hips collide into yours, blue eyes focusing on the ink marked permanently of his mask on the skin of your forearm, just above the crook of your elbow. He's panting heavily, wet skin smacking into yours and the haze floating around in his head as he drives you further into the mattress.

"Fuck, baby, I love you. Your tattoo came out amazing-- can't believe you drew that. Fuuuuck, you're clenching around me so much."

William

Darkened eyes zero in on the golden rabbit head that's tattooed on your shoulder. He wets his lips and eagerly pulls you closer to get a better look at the new ink. Arousal floods down South and William is quickly removing your clothes to bare your pretty body to him, sinking down to lean between your legs.

“Oh, um sure.” He leads you to the student union, chattering about the reading, making it so you barely have to fill in the blanks of the conversation. He leans down to you when you get to the barista, 

“Whaddya want, I’ll order for you.” 

“Just a latte.” You say. He moves around you to order, careful not to touch you. 

“She’ll have a latte, and I’ll have a Caramel Frappucino.” He says, smiling gently at you. “Let’s grab a booth, it’ll be quieter.” You let him lead you across the busy student union, holding both of your hot coffees. He’s right, it’s a little quieter in the booth. “Do you have any ideas?” 

“Yeah,” You tuck your hair behind your ears. “I was thinking, maybe um something about, the pre-raphaelites, and how their ultra-realism was a revolution that actually went so hard that it transcended realism to become nonrepresentational.” He blinks at you. 

“Yeah, uh, okay, let’s do that.” You sigh. 

“Just let me do it.” 

“No, no,” he says quickly, “I’m a little behind in the reading, that’s all, I’ll catch up and then I’ll understand. Let’s look now, at one of the paintings, and you can explain it to me.” You take a sip of your coffee and flip to a page in your three hundred dollar textbook, complete with glossy colored pictures. 

“This is Ophelia, by John Edwin Millais.” He looks at the pale woman lying in the reeds. 

“Oh shit, is she dead?” You swallow. 

“Yeah, of course, she is, she’s Ophelia.” He looks sheepish. “From Hamlet. She pretty famously dies.” He looks even more sheepish. 

“Uh, okay.” He puts his palms up. “Tell you what, I will catch up on the reading. I will. And then we can divide up work, and get started. I will not be the mean jock that makes you do this yourself. I refuse.” 

“Frankly that’s more honor than I expected from you.” He laughs, touching the back of his neck. 

“Jeez. Sorry that my fellow athletes did ya so dirty. Scouts honor, I won’t leave you high and dry.” He’s oozing sincerity. You don’t trust it. 

“Okay.” He raises his eyebrows and then straightens. 

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me now. I’m gonna prove it.” He looks down at the textbook. “Okay, she’s dead, keep explaining.” 

“So she’s dead, but look at all the flowers around her. Her death is a tragedy, and it’s considered one of the most eloquent descriptions of death in literature.” 

“Ooh,” Kirishima takes his phone out. “Let me google it. What’s it from again?” You smile nervously. 

“It’s Lady Gertrude’s speech, from Hamlet.” He squints at his screen. 

“Wait, what language is this in?” You laugh a little despite yourself. 

“English,” you say, “give it here, I’ll demonstrate.” He hands you his phone, it’s cool and heavy in your hands. “No case?” 

“I don’t drop things.” He says, a hint of pride in his voice. You laugh, genuinely. 

“There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds, Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,” your voice is low, Kirishima leans in across the table to hear what you’re saying. “When down her weedy trophies and herself, Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,” He feels a blush creep onto his cheeks, there’s something almost sensual about the music of your words. “Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her own distress,” Kirishima’s breath hitches in his throat. 

“Oh,” he interrupts you, “Oh I get it.” You nod. “Wait but please don’t stop.” He begs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Go on.” You give him a small smile. 

“Or like a creature native and endued unto that element. But long it could not be

till that her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay, to muddy death.” He sighs with happiness. 

“Wow.” He breathes. “Reading Shakespeare doesn’t feel like that.” 

“That’s because he wrote plays,” you explain, “And plays, like poetry, were always meant to be experienced as spoken word entertainment rather than read.” He nods vigorously. 

“That makes so much sense!” He grins, still leaning rather close to you across the table. 

“Oi, shitty hair!” Someone snarls and you jump, gasping in surprise. “And what the fuck is wrong with you?” Bakugou Katsuki, loud, brash, and Quarterback of the football team leans over your table. You shrink from him. 

“Bakugou!” Kirishima chastizes. “You can’t snap at people like that. You scared the shit out of her, I just got her to start talking to me.” He shakes his head. “Y/n, I’m sorry, this is my boyfriend.” You blink in surprise. “Yeah, we’re both bi.” He confirms, fielding your expression with expert precision. Bakugou elbows his way next to Kirishima in the booth, dropping his textbooks. “Y/n was just reading me some Shakespeare for context on this.” He points to the Millais, your textbook still lying open. 

“That Ophelia?” He asks you and you nod. “So you were reading him Lady Gertrude’s speech.” You blink at him. “Yeah, we’re not all fuckin’ idiots.” He says, hitting Kirishima lightly on the back of the head. “But go ahead, I want to hear it.” 

“Oh um,” your face burns. “I was done. I mean it’s a short passage.” 

“Something else then,” he grins, “I like to watch him struggle.” Kirishima swats at his boyfriend, who dodges and smiles. You hand him his phone back.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” You say and he narrows his eyes, and scrolls through his phone. 

“Shitty hair we’ll give you somethin’ easy, just tell us what this means.” 

“Why can’t you read it?” You say a little annoyed and he grins. 

“You’ll see.” He selects something on his phone and then hands it to you. 

“Oh.” You say, a scowl forming on your lips, seeing Katherine’s monologue. “You want me to read the Shakespearean equivalent of yes sir, I would be happy to make you that sandwich?” 

“What?” Kirishima blinks. Bakugou looks like he’s about to speak but you cut him off. 

“Kirishima look at me.” He does. “This was the first thing we were supposed to read in this course. Have you done any of the reading for this class?” Kirishima goes bright red, shrinking nervously from Bakugou. 

“Shitty hair?” Bakugou growls. “Skippin’ out on the reading, huh?” You raise your eyebrows and start to gather your things. Kirishima buries his face in his hands. 

“Wait,” you stop and look at him, you’d already stood to make your escape. “Please help me study, please help me catch up.” He eyes Bakugou. “He’s the meanest tutor, and I feel like you wouldn’t be.” You sigh. 

“Kirishima, we’re not even friends.” You reach for your coffee but he looks so hurt that you pause. Bakugou snorts. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where it took you more than five minutes to make friends with someone,” he eyes you, “What’s your deal? You’re a transfer, right?” Your hands shake a little as you respond. 

“Yep.” It could be your imagination, but for a fraction of a second, Bakugou’s eyes flick to your hands before moving back to your face, softening a little. 

“Please.” Kirishima says, taking a step forward. “I’ll do something for you, anything.” You sigh, looking away. “I’ll introduce you to all our friends!” he offers. “You don’t know anyone, right?” 

“And I like it that way.” You counter and that gets a genuine laugh out of Bakugou. “I’ll tutor you, though,” you offer, “On one condition.” Kirishima nods, and you sit back down. “I will make every decision about this project.”  

“That’s fine!” He says brightly. “Thank you, thank you so much.” Bakugou clears his throat, you’re still holding his phone. 

“Actually,” you say, “This is an ok place to start.” You turn the phone to Kirishima on the table who shakes his head. 

“Read it to me, please, please it sounds so much better.” You massage your temples, watching Bakugou smirk. 

“Fie, fie, unknit that threatening unkind brow, And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.” You say, not sure where to look. 

“Ok, so don’t question your boss.” Kirishima says, “Got it.” 

“Not quite.” You say. “Very sweet of you to immediately strip the clearly gendered terminology from this passage.” Bakugou knocks shoulders with his boyfriend. 

“Try again.” He motions for you to continue. 

“It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, And in no sense is meet or amiable. A woman mov’d is like a fountain troubled- Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.” 

“Oh.” Kirishima says. “This is about, uh, like, when women aren’t sweet they’re ugly?” You nod, smiling. 

“Yeah, that’s as decent interpretation. Think about the words, a woman moved is like a fountain troubled, women who have strong emotion or even rational thought that’s being read as emotion due to a sexist lense, has as much value as a fountain that’s broken, spewing mud. Think about that metaphor.” Kirishima’s brow furrows. 

“I don’t like this. I love it when women aren’t sweet.” Then he smiles at you. “‘Course, if they wanna be, that’s fine by me.” You hand Bakugou his phone back. 

“I’m finished debasing my gender for your entertainment.” You say to the blonde, and scribble something down on a scrap of paper. “I’m free Saturday afternoon, this is my number, text me if you want to be tutored.”  

_______

On Friday night, you’re curled up with a mug of hot chocolate and your favorite show, with a soft blanket, happily alone in your single. You get a text from Kirishima. 

Kirishima: hey! We’re having a movie night. Wanna come over?

You: I’m good, thanks 

Kirishima: come on, what are you doing?

You: watching Jane the Virgin

Kirishima: alone or am I interrupting a netflix and chill session

You: aaaaaaaaa i like being alone it’s fine 

You toss your phone aside, ignoring it’s incessant buzzing, watching Jane pick out a wedding dress, tearing up when her father shows up. You have a moment where you genuinely struggle with the desire to respond, grappling with your own social anxiety before choosing the comfort of being alone. There’s a soft knock at the door. You throw a zip up hoodie on over your tank top. 

“Hey,” There’s a guy standing in the hallway with dark hair. You don’t recognize him. “I’m Shindou, your next door neighbor.” You shrug. 

“Hi, can I help you?” You can smell the alcohol on his breath, he runs his fingers through his hair.. 

“Can I come in?” He asks, smiling brilliantly. You shake your head. 

“No thanks,” you lean against the doorframe. “What’s up?” He takes a step near you. 

“You can um,” he says, smiling sheepishly, “I was hoping I could come in.”  He’s swaying a little. 

“Nope,” you try and close the door but he wedges an elbow into it, catching the door frame in a large hand.

“I would like you to leave.” You say, with as much firmness as you can muster. 

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart.” He says, smiling, “Come on, don’t be a bitch about this,” 

“Don’t be a bitch about what?” A familiar voice growls from down the hallway.

“Just leave.” You say, pleading, trying again to close the door on him but he shoves his way in, stumbling drunk. You jump out of the way but he knocks into you, and you slam against the chest of drawers next to your door, the air rushing from your lungs. Strong hands pull  him back though, as you catch yourself before he can hit the ground. You see Bakugou slam him against a wall. 

“Walk it the fuck off.” Bakugou snarls, before turning his attention to you. “Text Kirishima back. You’re hurting his feelings.” He says, before registering your face, how shaken you are. “Oh shit, don’t fuckin’ cry.” Your hands shake, hard. 

“W-what are you doing in my building?” You ask. He blinks at you. 

“I live here.” He points to the black garbage bag he put down to grab Shindo. “That guys an asshole. Stay away from him.” You nod and he sighs, looking away. “Fine.” He pushes his way into your room, and before you can say anything he’s wrapping his arms around you. “Shh, or shut up or somethin’, okay?” You bury your face in his neck, it does feel nice, to be held. He lets you go after about a minute. “Come on. Movie night.” 

“I don’t-” 

“Did that sound like a fuckin’ invitation to you?” He snarls. “Because I meant it like a goddamn order.” You nod, sniffling a little. He waits for you while you pick up your phone and slip into some shoes. 

“Gonna uh,” he says, “Gonna put pants on?” You turn beet red and lift the end of your long hoodie to reveal the shorts you were wearing, he looks almost disappointed. “Come on then, we don’t have all damn night.” You grab your room key and phone and follow him down the hallway to the garbage shoot, and then up to his room. He lived on the fourth floor, and his room had slanted ceilings that were covered with posters. There’s a small crowd gathered on an array of beanbag chairs, and the small dorm room was spotless. Kirishima’s face lights up. 

“You came!” He says, getting up and giving you a quick hug. 

“Some fuckin’ asshole tried to barge into her room.” Bakugou growls. “Dick.” Kirishima’s eyes widen. 

“Who?” He says to Bakugou. Bakugou rolls his eyes. 

“Shindo, who the fuck else?” Kirishima’s jaw tightens for a second before turning to the group, snatching a remote and pausing the movie. 

“Hey! This is y/n. She’s really nice so try not to scare her off.” They introduce you to their friends, Denki, Mina, and Sero. “She’s a transfer.” They greet you, someone hands you a drink and you settle in an empty bean bag chair. Kirishima sits next to you, his face a little flushed. 

“Hey,” He says quietly. “Did you read my texts or did Bakugou just spirit you up here to make me happy?” You blink at him. 

“Um I didn’t read them.” you confess. “I just, people make me so nervous.” He nods. 

“I can tell.” He looks away. “I was pretty excited to be partnered with you. I uh, I’ve missed everything we were supposed to be learning in class because I keep staring at you.” 

“You’re drunk.” You say and he shrugs. 

“Catch up.” You hit him lightly on the back of the head, 

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” He laughs and slips an arm around you. 

“We have an understanding.” He leans over, “And honestly I think he likes you too.” You make a decision and down your drink quickly, then settle into the crook of his arm. He moves you, so that you’re flush against his side. You look around nervously but Sero and Mina are full on making out and ignoring the movie, Denki’s fallen asleep. You feel his breath on your ear and your neck erupts in goosebumps. “Can I get you another drink?” You nod, face burning. You turn your face and meet his eyes, for just a moment. “Hey, Bakugou, can you pass me that?” Kirishima points to the half empty bottle of vodka. You’d almost forgotten the blonde. Bakugou is lying on his bed, but he gets up, grabbing it and a plastic bottle of fruit juice. He sits down slowly on the other side of the beanbag chair with a grunt, taking your red plastic cup from you and dumping the rest of the cranberry juice in it. Kirishima gets on his side, resting his head in one of his palms. You mimic his movements, snuggling into his hard chest. Bakugou rolls his eyes and pours less than one shot into your cup. You pout.

“What? You don’t need more to drink.” He grumbles. You take the cup from him, and sip it. 

“This is basically just juice!” You complain and you feel Kirishima groan softly as you push up a little on the beanbag chair to get closer to Bakugou, inadvertently pressing your ass against his crotch. He takes one of your hips in his huge hand, reaching under your hoodie, fingers digging into your soft flesh. 

“I said you don’t need any more to drink.” Bakugou snaps. “I’ve got half a goddamn mind to take that from ya,” he eyes the cup, “And just get you both water.” Kirishima’s hand travels up under your hoodie, pushing your tank top up to rest on your waist. You give Bakugou your best, brattiest smile, and tip the cranberry juice drink into your mouth, chugging it and then handing him your empty cup. He smiles evilly and cocks his head to one side. “Brat. You’ll pay for that.” You shrug, feeling Kirishima start to rub circles into your skin, to draw your body closer to his.

“You should be nicer to him.” Kirishima says, as Bakugou climbs onto the beanbag chair, laying down and facing you. He watches your face carefully as Kirishima’s hand moves lower, under the elastic band of your shorts. You can feel his swelling erection rubbing against your ass. “He calls the shots around here, baby.” He parts your folds with two fingers and you feel your face warm as he drags his fingers lazily across your slit. He presses gently, experimentally, on your clit and your mouth drops open, sucking a sharp breath. 

Bakugou’s lips crash down on yours, muffling the sweet hiccuping moan that would have escaped your lips as Kirishima starts to circle your clit with one calloused hand. His kiss is hot, searing, and he swipes your lips with his tongue before slipping it between them, keeping you quiet in the darkness as the others watch the movie intently. He guides you carefully, cupping your face in expert hands, while Kirishima locks your body against his with one arm wrapped under your ribs, and tortures you with the other. 

“She’s so wet.” He whispers. “When’s the last time anyone touched you, baby?” He coos. Of course you don’t answer, you can’t, as he dips a finger into your aching core, and you bite down hard on Bakugou’s lip. You taste blood and the blonde pulls away from you, something wild in his eyes. You get out half a gasp before his mouth is back on yours, this time he reaches for your body, you hear your hoodie unzip. He reaches under your sweatshirt, palming your breasts, grunting softly. You hold onto his arms, digging little half moons in the contours of his bicep. 

“You’re so fuckin’ soft.” He says into your mouth. “Gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” You nod, Anything, anything as long as Kirishima didn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, pressing against that one bundle of nerves in a way that was making your eyes roll and your face hot. You can feel him grinding his hard cock against your ass. Bakugou lifts your tank top over your shirt and pulls your breasts out of your bra. “Nice tits.” He groans, before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking hungrily. 

“She’s gonna cum.” Kirishima warns, and it’s true you can feel that tight coil in your stomach, feel the muscles in your thighs tense, as you near your release. To your dismay, Bakugou chuckles. 

“Nah, she doesn’t need it yet.” He moves back up into your eyeline. “In case you’re too stupid to understand that, you’re not allowed to cum yet, got it.” You meet his intense gaze and he rolls his eyes and covers your mouth with his free hand. “I wanna see you fuckin’ cry for it.” You flex your feet, squirming against Kirishima as you reach our and hold onto Bakugou’s muscled forearms. You feel his breath, hot on your ear. “C’mon bitch.” He growls. “I said I wanted to see you cry.” Kirishima drags his thrumb roughly across your clit and you nearly lose it, screwing up your face in concentration. 

“Aw,” Kirishima coos. “She wants to be a good girl so bad, Katsuki.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re doing so well, baby.” Bakugou grabs your jaw roughly, holding it so tightly that you’re forced to part your lips, panting like a dog. Your eyes start to water, it hurts, it hurts so badly, you just want to cum, you’ll do anything, you’re desperate for it. Your lower lip trembles as the first tear rolls down your cheek, disappearing into the fabric of the beanbag chair. 

“Harder.” Bakugou orders, and you can see him palming his cock with his free hand through his pants. For a second you think he’s talking to you but when Kirishima picks up the pace you realize you were wrong, he watches you tremble. “You look fucking pathetic.” He snarls. “What would you give me, to cum, right now?” 

“Anything.” You breathe, eyes watering. “Anything you wanted.” He grins again, that same wildness in his eyes before he spits in your open mouth. 

“Swallow.” He commands, still speaking lowly enough so that his friends, apparently incredibly stoned, can’t here. “Then cum for me, bitch.” You release the coil you’d been holding and your whole body spasms as wave after wave of pleasure hits you, Kirishima carefully carries you through your high. You’re vaguely aware, on some level, of how you’re gushing around his fingers, of his little groan,

“Shit, she clenches so hard when she cums.” Kirishima breathes. Bakugou’s mouth is pressed against yours, muffling the desperate moan that comes from deep within you. Your hands shake as you grab fistfuls of his t-shirt and hold on for dear life. When your vision clears you’re on your back between the two men. Kirishima is brushing the hair softly off your forehead, and Bakugou is pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your cheek. “Is your room empty, baby?” Kirishima asks and you nod, unable to speak yet. “Should we go there?” You nod again and try to stand, feeling how sticky your shorts have become, the drying slick on your thighs. 

“Wait!” Kirishima says and your knees give out. Bakugou catches you easily, lifting you in his arms and rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t try and walk after cumming like that, stupid.” He says, shaking his head. They walk down to  your empty dorm room, where when they flick the lights on, your long forgotten mug of hot chocolate is on the window sill, probably ice cold. 

“This is so cute!” Kirishima coos. “You know I’ve had a crush on you all semester.” He smoothes out  your baby blue comforter. “It’s not exactly how I’ve imagined it, but it’s so you.” Bakugou deposits you on the bed. 

“Knew there was a reason you had no fuckin’ clue what was happening in that class.” He looks at you. “When you can talk again he’s gonna need a goddamn tutor, so I hope we didnt fuck anything in there,” he taps your forehead, “up permanently.”  Kirishima looks sheepish and Bakugou continues. “But if you’re not talkin’ I can think of much better uses for your mouth.” You nod, and clear your throat with a high pitched grunt. 

“You uh,” you look at Kirishima. “You like me?” 

“I may or may not have begged the professor to pair us together for this project.” You giggle. 

“Oi, sorry,” Bakugou snaps. “I meant suck my fuckin’ dick.” You flush, embarassed, he sits on your chair, unzipping his pants and putting one of your pillows at his feet. “Crawl.” He says pointing lazily at his feet. You slip all the way out of your hoodie before obliging. 

“She’s really so good,” Kirishima coos, “I knew that attitude was all an act, right, baby, you just wanna make us feel good, right?” You barely hear him, Bakugou’s taken his dick out of his pants and there’s no other word for it, it’s pretty. Long and thick, the head a deep pink and dripping with precum. 

“Yeah.” You say softly, before taking the tip of him in your mouth, giving it a little kitten lick to clean the precum off of it before taking as much of it as you can, drooling sloppily on his lap. He groans. 

“Fuck, yeah princess, just like that,” He catches your eyes, “Love the way your lips look on my fat fuckin’ cock, look up at me, like that.” He looks up, putting one hand on the back of your head, setting a pace for you, forcing you just a little farther with each thrust. “What are you waiting for, shitty hair?” He growls. “Just gonna watch?” Kirishima runs his fingers through his hair and glances at Bakugou’s hands, tangled in your hair, “Awww,” Bakugou makes the sweetest sound his gravel allows, “You were waiting for permission, like a good boy.” Kirishima nods. 

“Y-yes, sir.” He says. 

“Take her shorts off.” Bakugou orders, leaning back in your fold up chair, the canvas groaning.” You lovinging flick  your tongue over the underside of his cock. He pulls you back off of him though and speaks, “Green means go, yellow means slow down, red means stop. If you tap me,” He says, tapping his own thigh, in case you were too stupid to understand that, “I will stop. Understand?” You nod. “Say it.” He says gruffly. 

“I understand.” You say, and he reaches down, parting your soft lips with his thumb. You suck it hungrily and he smiles when you scrape your teeth against the pad of his finger. 

“Get back to work.” He orders, and you do, taking as much of him as you can, concentrating on keeping your throat relaxed, swelling with pride at every little groan you elicit from his mouth. Kirishima kneels behind you, letting out a soft whine as he rubs the head of his cock against your slit. 

“She’s so wet,” Kirishima moans, ‘Can, can I please fuck her, please?” Bakugou takes his eyes off yours for a moment, not releasing the back of your head. 

“Have you been a good fuckin’ boy?” He asks huskily. Kirishima nods emphatically. “Hmmm,” Bakugou rumbles, closing his eyes in pleasure as you drool on his cock. “What do you think,” he grabs you by the hair and pulls you off his dick, “Want him to fuck you?” You turn around and look at him, and gasp a little. He’s so big, the biggest you’ve ever seen, wide and long, at least 8 inches, purple tipped and dripping with precum. He’s pumping himself slowly. You turn back to Bakugou. 

“I-Is it gonna hurt, daddy?” You ask, the title slipping from your lips like water. Bakugou’s dick twitches in front of your face. 

“He can go slow, for you,” Bakugou growls, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Make sure she’s prepped dumbass.” He nods at Kirishima, and you move to keep sucking Bakugou’s cock but he catches your face. “I wanna watch you take it.” He says gruffly, savoring the way your eyes widen at the pressure, and then the stretch, and then the pain, as Kirishima gently eases inside of you. He waits to move until he hears your sharp little gasp, your mouth dropping open and saliva dribbling down your chin. Bakugou grins, taking the chance to force himself back in your mouth, focusing on his own orgasm now, grabbing a fistful of your hair and setting his own pace. This time it’s impossible to relax, if you could concentrate on anything it would be the pleasant pain of Kirishima rutting his huge cock against your soft walls, but Bakugou forces your head all the way up his length, so that your nose is pressed to the blonde tuft of hair at his stomach. 

“Fuck,” Kirishima says harshly, “She got even tighter when you did that,” he picks up the pace a little and you see stars. Bakugou starts fucking your throat in earnest now, groaning, fingers tearing through your hair. 

“Take it, bitch,” He growls, when he sees your eyes start to water as  you gag, “Fuck yeah, baby just like that, you like this?” He looks at Kirishima, blushy and glossy eyed as he snaps his hips against your ass. “You like gettin’ fuckin’ spitroasted like some dirty fuckin’ whore, huh?” There’s no way for you to respond, not with your jaw aching, not as his thrusts become erratic and he slams himself all the way down your throat again. You feel him start to explode in your throat, but then he pulls out, coating your face in his cum and leaning back in  your chair. “Good girl,” he breathes while you gag and sputter, “Good fuckin’ girl.” He sighs heavily. “You look so good like this, daddy’s desperate little slut, arentcha?”

“Y-yes daddy.” You say with the first lungful of sweet air you’re able to get. “Oh god,” you choke out as Kirishima starts going even faster, hitting your g-spot with every thrust, hitting every spot, even now, it hurt a little, he was so, so big. Bakugou leans forward and pushes down on your shoulders so that you’re down on your elbows, forcing your back into a harsher arch. With nothing to muffle your sounds they spill from your lips like water, “K-kirishima,” you moan, and he laughs, slapping your ass lightly. 

“So what, he’s daddy and I’m Kirishima?” 

“Sounds right to me.” Bakugou says threateningly, from your chair, reaching out to brush the hair out of your face, surprisingly gently. “Do you want to cum again, bitch?” He asks and you nod vigourously. “Use your words.” He snaps. 

“Yes, daddy, wanna cum please.” You look up at him, eyes wide. 

“Do you deserve to cum?” He asks and you nod without thinking. 

“Please, please let me, I’ll, I’ll do whatever you want I-” The words come out of your mouth so quickly that he laughs at you. 

“So fuckin’ eager to please,” He taunts, “You wanna be a good girl so badly, don’t you, just wanna be daddy’s good slut?” 

“F-fuck.” Kirishima groans, kneading at your ass, grabbing your hips and fucking you butally, your knees give out, “She got so tight when you said that, keep going, please,” he begs, 

“You like when I tell you you’re a slut huh?” Bakugou rasps, grinning at your stupid fucked out expression, “You look so good covered in my cum, bitch, such a good little cocksleeve, just a sweet little cunt on legs.” Kirishima reaches down and pinches your clit between two fingers and  you keen, “You can cum, cocksleeve.” Bakugou orders and Kirishima rakes his nails down your back as you come undone beneath him with a soft cry, a choked sob. 

“I’m close.” Kirishima whines, “Where should I-” 

“On her.” Bakugou says. “I wanna see my pretty little bitch covered in our cum.” You look up at that. “That’s right, baby, you’re my fucking bitch now.” Kirishima pulls out, his hot release spurting all over your back as your whole body trembles. Kirishima collapses on the floor next to  you but Bakugou reaches into his pocket, grabs his phone and snaps a picture. “You look so good all fucked out.” He says. “Don’t move, dumbasses.” He gets up, fixing his pants and then leaves. You hear your door close and turn your head to Kirishima. 

“Hi.” You say very quietly. He smiles at you. 

“You okay?” You nod. “We’ll take good care of you.” He coos, “Aftercare is important. He’s right, by the way, you look so fucking good like this.” He takes you in, swollen lips, and glossy eyes, watery black lines on your cheeks from the last remnants of your eye makeup. He reaches over, dipping two fingers into the cum on your back and then pushing them between your lips. You lick them clean and he beams at you. “Such a good girl!” You warm with pride at the praise. You hear the door open and Bakugou comes back. He squats beside you. 

“C’mere.” He grunts, carefully, gently wiping your face with a warm washcloth, and when your face is clean he kisses your forehead and hands the towel to Kirishima, who cleans off your back. He cups your face in both of his hands. 

“Good girl.” Bakugou says gruffly. “Gonna lie down with us, let us take care of ya a little?” You nod and Bakugou climbs into your twin bed, flattening himself against the wall. Kirishima lifts you, laughing at your humiliating attempt at walking. 

“You might have a limp tomorrow.” He says brightly. “But maybe not! Not everyone does.” Bakugou takes your body, angling it against his, and Kirishima lies down, facing the two of you, giving Bakugou a sweet tender kiss before throwing his phone at the lightswitch, effectively engulfing the room in darkness. 

“That better not have broken your shit, dumbass.” Bakugou grumbles, as Kirishima slips a leg in between yours. “You got a case for your shit yet?” Kirishima freezes. 

“Oh fuck,” he yawns, “Oops. Set an alarm for me?” Bakugou nods. “You okay?” Kirishima asks you again, scrutinizing  your face. 

“Yeah,” you sigh happily. “Tired.” 

“Go to sleep.” Bakugou says. “Both of you. It’s late as fuck.” You close your eyes, focusing on the soft breathing of the two men holding you, feeling safe, and warm and comfortable. 

It’s much, much later when you stir. You’re sleeping on top of Bakugou’s chest and Kirishima is spooning you, with his face buried in his boyfriend’s neck. There’s a knocking at your door. 

“Hey,” you hear, “Hey, you up, I know you’re in there.” You move a little and Bakugou is awake immediately, anchoring you to his chest with one arm. 

“Someone’s here?” You whisper. “I don’t know.” Kirishima gets up  and rubs his eyes. 

“I’ll check it out.” He opens the door in his boxers. “Oh, hey Shindo?” 

“I-is, y/n there?” Kirishima grins. 

“Yeah, but it’s 3AM. She’s real tired, if you get my drift.”

“Fuck you.” Shindou spits, slamming the door in Kirishima’s face, he bursts out laughing. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou growls, shifting you to the far side of his chest and reaching an arm out for Kirishma. “Do you know what goddamn time it is?” He pulls the slightly larger boy into him. “She’s gotta tutor you tomorrow.” Kirishima sighs with happiness. 

“Then we gotta take her on a real date.” You open your eyes. “Wanna go to olive garden?” 

“No.” You and Bakugou say at the same time. “Go the fuck to sleep!”