ᖭི༏ᖫྀ fae ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

𖦹 content. k.bakugou x fem!reader. fluff

“No.”

Bakugou was already pulling his hoodie over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. “It’s cold. I’m wearing it.”

“But Katsuki…” you whined, watching him like a sad puppy from the edge of his bed. “Yours are always warmer.”

He shot you a look. “You’ve got ten hoodies at home.”

“But not yours.”

“No.”

You pouted. He turned away. You crept closer. Then—the look. Wide, shimmering puppy eyes. Slight tilt of the head. Soft little “please?”

Bakugou sighed sharply, refusing to look at you at first. “Stop that. It’s manipulative.”

You blinked slowly. “Please,” you whispered again, holding your hands in front of you like a child asking for candy.

He finally looked at you.

Dead silence.

A beat passed. Then another.

“…F***ing hell,” he muttered, already tugging the hoodie back over his head and tossing it your way. “Take it. You’re so damn annoying.”

You squealed happily, burying your face in it as you pulled it on. “Smells like you,” you mumbled with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, cheeks tinged pink as he looked anywhere but at you.

Still, you saw the tiny smirk tug at his lips when you weren’t looking.

More Dragon!Kirishima brain rot ahead because Yuzuya's fantasy series continues to have me in a chokehold💀 Kiri is written as being in his half human, half dragon form here, okay bye🫣

Trigger Warning⚠️: Hot spring sex, Semi-public sex, cream pie, Let me know if I missed anything!

Dragon!Kirishima x Fem!Human!Reader

Thinking about Dragon!Kirishima taking you to the hot springs after finally bringing you home to his Crimson Clan.

He specifically chose one that he knew you're human physique would be able to tolerate since he could stand much higher temperatures than you. You marveled at the spring's strange shapes as you passed through the stretch of land. Partial walls of rock and crystals climbing the sides of many, providing shade and privacy to some while others remained completely open.

You couldn't help but give him a knowing side eye as he led you to the spring furthest away from the others, shieled by a crescent moon of amethyst. He chuckled with smirk, catching your suggestive glance, but looked down to gander the cute soaking outfit, a swimsuit like garb one of mother's had gifted to you.

You tsked, a gentle scold at the dragon for not even attempting to be subtle, which he replied with an apologetic expression. Once you'd rounded the violet wall of crystals, Eijirou stepped in, wading down into the spring until the water rested at his chest. He offered you a hand which you took, cautiously dipping a toe in before wading in after him.

when eijirou looks up from his phone, you gesture to the outfit you’d just put on for mina’s party. 

“y-yeah,” he coughs, clearing his throat. the flush in his cheeks deepens. “you look incredible.” 

“and you’re okay?” you ask. “if i wear this out, i mean.” 

eijirou’s brows pull together as he blinks at you, seemingly trying to figure out if he heard you right. he sounds a little offended when he says, “babe. you’re not seriously asking me that.” 

when you don’t immediately respond, he crosses his arms. starts soapboxing a little about how it’s his responsibility, as a man, to challenge toxic masculinity and the patriarchy. and telling his girlfriend what to wear is being part of the problem, not the solution. 

you could barley make it through the door of kirishima’s room before he was clinging to you, even though you had literally just seen him earlier that day.

“there she is!” he practically throws himself on you, immediately tugging you against him. “finally, babe, where have you been!”

“we just saw each other a couple hours ago kiri,” you say, muffled by him hugging you so tightly.

“babe! that was like, forever ago! i’ve missed you since then.” he leads you toward his bed, before laying you both on it. he was quick to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest.

you could feel kirishima nosing at the nape of your neck before he began pressing kisses to the exposed skin. you laughed a bit, as it tickled a little. “kiri!”

he tugged you even closer to him, his hand finding your cheek as he began to smooth his fingers over. “what? i can’t help it babe, you’re just too pretty.”

now, the two of you were laid up together, limbs tangled with one another, face to face. you noticed right away how kirishima was gazing at you, how he always did when he wanted to kiss you.

“you’re staring” you smile, feeling a little flushed with all the attention.

“wanna kiss, please babe?”

you nod. you almost told him that he didn’t need to ask for permission every time, but you know it was no use. he always had to have your consent.

kirishima then drew you in, pressing his mouth to yours gently just once. he pulled back for a moment, his thumb running over your bottom lip before chasing your lips again.

the pressure of his mouth to yours was careful, he made a low raspy sound against you when he felt you press into him harder.

his hand stayed resting on your cheek when he pulled away, letting out a soft sigh. you could see the obvious flush on his cheeks.

he grinned, “you know I love you, yeah?”

your pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, “you tell me all the time kiri,”

“I know, jus’ wanted to remind you. I love you so much.”

Girls try to flirt with him, tossing casual smiles and playful touches his way, but he doesn’t even notice—he’s too consumed with talking about you.

“Yeah, my girl does that way better,” he says without missing a beat, brushing off their attempts with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Oh, she went there—said it sucked. So nah, I’m not wasting my time.”

“She helped me train for my last spar—took one look at my stance and fixed it. Coach-level instincts, man. I’d be a mess without her.”

He keeps going, proud and loud about how perfect you are for him, how lucky he is. Somewhere between bragging about your pretty eyes, and how you always know when he's feeling off, he starts rambling about how he’s gonna marry you someday—says it with the casual certainty of someone who knows he’s already found his forever.

Then he sees you walk past, and his whole face lights up like someone just turned on all the lights in the room. His eyes go wide, voice shooting up in volume, puppy-dog excited as he points:

“Hey! That’s my girlfriend!”

Before you can escape, he’s already stumbling over with that dopey, lovesick grin, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back to the group like he just won a prize. He looks at them all smug, like see? told you she was perfect.

“fuuuck, baby—”

never in toji fushiguro’s thirty-eight years of living has he let himself get tied up. not during jobs, always too quick and nimble to even let them get close, nor when he was sleeping around. he was always on top, always the one tying them down and fucking them silly.

yet here he is, thick wrists and ankles bound to the posts of your bedframe, legs spread just for you. he can’t help it, not when you’re bouncing on his dick like a see-saw, a repetitive up and down that has those lightning veins dragging through your gooey insides.

“mmmgh, s-shit,” he moans, and it teeters off into a breathy chuckle, practically drowning in feigned confidence. even now, toji still wants to save face with that wobbly smirk on his face, though you definitely know better.

god, he feels like a teenager again, balls heavy and aching cock sensitive to every slight flutter and suctioning clamp of your sweet pussy. it’s like you’ve cast a spell on him, made him weak to your soft touches, the gentle bat of your long lashes, the feeling of your reverent lips peppering his face in endless kisses whenever he returns from a job.

that’s precisely how he ended up like this, tied down to your bed with just a small pout of your glossy lips and a few low, choice words whispered into his ear that’d had his pants instantly growing tight.

it hasn’t even been ten minutes, and toji’s ready to cum. you see it in the way his eyes keep fluttering like he’s having to fight the urge to let them roll back, how his hips don’t stop bucking up into you, shoving his dick in deep enough to create that perfect, cylindrical bulge in your tummy that has him drooling with endless moans and barely bitten off whimpers.

“c’mon, doll, un... mmf— untie me.” his hands flex, testing the barely sufficient restraints. “lemme f-fuck you right. that’s what ya want, y-yeah? jus’ untie me, baby, hah—”

you shake your head, hands on his chest as you up your pace, a familiar pressure building low in your spine. “you p-promised, toji.”

he did promise, he knows that, and he hates breaking them, but with the way you’re now swiveling your hips in torturous figure-eights, snug cunt milking him for all he’s worth, he is genuinely not gonna last.

“baby, pleaseee? you feel s-so fucking good, toji, god—” your voice is as sweet as ever, making the thick walls around toji’s mind melt into goopy, lovesick puddles and his balls draw up tight.

he doesn’t mean to cum before you, honest, but when you’re talking to him like that and riding him so good, he can’t help but pump thick, hot ropes of cum right into your womb, jaw slack for a long, whiny groan.

you don’t even get the chance to process the tears in his eyes before the ropes snap, two big hands coming down on your waist and flipping you right onto your back.

“toji, hnngh, wait—!”

your boyfriend just gives a rough shake of his head, the ropes sliding free from his wrists and ankles as he hikes your legs around his waist. his dark fringe falls in front of his face, and, for a foolish moment, you think he’s going to listen.

but toji has never been good at being submissive for long, even with you.

“i had concubines before i was devoted to you. do you really think i see intercourse as something significant?” he doesn’t even spare you a glance, all four of his eyes focused on carefully peeling the fruits resting in the bowl in front of him (mangoes, to be specific. a special order he put in with uraume for you). your eyes narrow at his words.

“so you don’t see intercourse with me as something significant?” that earns you a roll of his eyes.

“i don’t recall those words leaving my lips, woman.” he glances at you with a bored look, already much too used to your antics and the nonsensical conclusions you often pulled from his words (“it’s called reading in between the lines, ryo.” you had insisted. he chose not to debate you on it).

he sighs when you go silent, seemingly waiting for an explanation from him that would fix the small pout gracing your lips. he would’ve let you sulk if you were anybody else, but you weren’t.

“i realize the significance humans place on it now that i am yours, but i partook in the act purely for pleasure before you. it was simply to fulfill my fleshly desires.” he doesn’t need to look at you to know that the frown on your face still hasn’t faltered. in fact, the displeased look on your face probably only deepened upon the mention of him being intimate with other women.

“human customs are foolish, that will never change.” his hand lifts to your lips, a cube of mango held delicately between his fingers. he continues speaking only after feeding you the fruit.

“but if my stubborn little wife sees it as something of importance, then it shall be so.” he says the last part with a sense of finality, as if it was a part of his life that he accepted a long, long time ago.

you contemplate his words for a moment, your posture easing against the lavish pillows of your shared bed. you stall on swallowing the piece of fruit on your tongue, considering a question in that ever curious mind of yours.

“what’s significant to you, ryo?”

he pauses for a brief moment but doesn’t answer, simply bringing another piece of fruit up to your lips (whether the action was out of care or to keep your mouth occupied was unclear).

his lack of an answer was as good of an answer as any, though.

this was significant to him. the way he cut and fed you soft fruit with hands that had slaughtered armies, handling you as if you were made of fine china. never yelling, never arguing.

the king of curses devoted himself to you because deep in his heart he acknowledged his subservience to you.

18+ MDNI, nanami is kind of a meanie :(

nanami kento is a man of undeniable patience and unwavering calm. a think-first, speak-later kind of man—never quick to argue, and always one to listen attentively before offering his own thoughts.

but when you “accidentally” forget to tell him that you’re going out with your friends after work, and spend hours worrying him sick and not answering your phone? now that really pisses him off.

clearly, you had forgotten to follow one of the most important, fundamental rules the two of you had set for each other—always let the other know of your whereabouts. 

seems like nanami had to remind you somehow. and today, his method of choice was fucking it into you. 

“you just can’t” thrust. “do” thrust. “what” thrust. “i tell you” thrust. “huh?” he drives each word into you, his thick cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside—making sure you feel exactly how much he means it.

your face is buried in the sheets of your shared bed, tears staining the pristine white bedsheets. nanami has been at this for hours now, pounding into you—every thrust harder and more punishing than the last.

“ ‘m sorry k-kento please” you sob pathetically into the wet sheets, voice barely audible in your helpless position. a strong hand fists a handful of your hair, pulling your head up closer to his. 

kento leans over, his warm, ragged breath brushing the tip of your ear, staying buried deep in your quivering, tight walls. 

“what was that?” he whispers, keeping a strong—almost painful grip on your hair. 

“i’m s-sorryyy kento i forgot” 

“mmm sweetheart” he murmurs, his voice a low, husky, whisper “that just won’t do.” he finishes, deliberately moving his other hand from your waist up to your sensitive, hardened nipples. you let out a mewl of pleasure as he rolls one between his fingers—the sound quickly turning into a breathy whine when he pinches down.

“please” you barely choke out the plea between sharp sobs. 

“please what? use your words baby” he mutters, hands now kneading the soft flesh of your tits.

“i’m s-sorry” is the only thing you can manage to say—pathetic and ruined in your fucked out state.

kento frees you from his grasp, letting your head fall back down into the mattress. his bruising grip on your waist returns, and he slowly starts moving his hips again. 

“i don’t think you are” is all he says, before quickening his already harsh pace. kento fucks you like this—like he’s trying to make you understand—for the rest of the night.

and you do understand. you understand that you’ll never make nanami mad again.

Now you had dumped Satoru for being too full on, giving you no breathing room, no one.

You were vulnerable in a way you hadn’t been in years, and you hated it. The freedom Satoru’s presence offered you was something you had taken for granted, not appreciated.

He was always on standby, ready to fight, beat up or demean a soul who dared get too close. A blanket of safety. One you had thrown away.

Tightening your jacket, you sped up, heading to Satoru’s building on impulse as the guy behind you gained ground. He could just be walking home from the mall like you, but God if your mind wasn’t somersaulting with fright.

What you’d give for Satoru to be on your back like a bear now.

The footsteps got even closer, right behind you, you couldn’t help it, you started running, so fucking scared, most of it probably in your head.

But it wasn’t, the man started running too.

Bursting into the fancy reception of Satoru’s building, you fumbled with your bag to retrieve your access card to the elevator. The security guard looked concerned but you just wanted to feel safe, and there was only one place on this planet you felt that way.

The moment the lift doors opened into the foyer you banged on Satoru’s door, not having a key after throwing it away in a fit of annoyance.

Satoru opened the door after mere seconds, eyes widening with concern when he saw your watering eyes. “What’s wrong sweets?” Collapsing into his arms, you squeezed him tight, so relieved to be against the hard muscles of his chest with his familiar smell laced into his cotton shirt.

“Someone followed me… I am sorry I broke up with you, it was stupid. I understand now, you only wanted what was best for me and I saw it as overbearing and-”

“Don’t be silly sweetheart. I get it, I can be full on at times, but we have all this penthouse if you need a lil breather, yeah?” Shaking your face by a thumb and finger on your chin, he grinned at your teary eyed expression. “Yeah.” You agreed.

Cupping your face in his hands, he kissed your upset right off your lips, your fear melting away with his presence. Sweeping you up bridal style, he carried you to your shared bedroom, not having moved a thing.

Was it a horrible thing for Satoru to send a hooded man after you? Yeah, he was going to hell. But all he was trying to do was prove to you what he already knew, that you needed him to feel safe, and that was his duty and he prided himself on it.

gojo is obsessed with everything you put out there. notifications blare, ensuring he is the first to see every post. his phone is always glued to his hand, your channel is his goddamn religion.

he ditches anyone, ducks into bathrooms, alleys, wherever to catch a glimpse of that sweet pussy. he even contemplates risking getting caught jerking off on a public tram, his strained pants a testament to his desperation. a crowded tram, mind you. he doesn't even care.

and, that michelin-star dinner? kicked out. again. because he can’t keep his hands off his phone, and his volume down. the head waiter gives him a look that could kill, and gojo just shrugs, already halfway through his next video.

he really is your biggest hype-man, and also your richest one. his tips? a goddamn tidal wave in the chat. every moan you make, every twitch of your hips, fuels his own private show. and, well, you've got to make it up to him somehow, right?

in return, you let him control your toys. you take it so well, he thinks, the highest setting of your lovense. that remote control? a shitty substitute for his own hands, really.

if a vibrator does this to you… he strokes himself, mimicking your rhythm, a frustrated, aching pulse, the image of your slick heat filling his mind. he wants to feel it, wants to hear you scream his name. you're gripping the sheets of the bed, head thrown back.

if just a little vibrator is doing this to you, he can't imagine how you'd react to his cock.

gojo's hand slides up and down his hard length, throbbing with arousal as he watches you moan.

"oh, fuck," you cry, "i— i'm gonna cum!" and, cum you do, as your hips buck, body tensing, and fluttering hole gushes liquid. he times his own release just seconds after, and it feels like the closest he'll ever get to you.

you've wrecked him, completely. he can't even have a girlfriend anymore, because he's always groaning your name during sex with them. it's the only way he can get off, now.

pictures and videos, that is. exclusive content, little bits and pieces of you — anything he can get, he'll have. you're the only thing he thinks about, you've turned him into a porn addict.

sleep is a war zone, gojo's brain replaying your every move until he is jerking off into his own hand, the sheets sticky and smelling faintly of his seed.

he fantasizes, raw and dirty, about burying his face between your legs, about the slick heat of your cunt, about the way you’d scream when he finally comes.

he wants to fill you, wants to hear you beg. gojo lies awake at night, his mind a whirlwind of your images, replaying old videos, memorizing every curve, every sound.

(and yeah, he has a fan account. pathetic? maybe. but he doesn't give a fuck. he has to spread the word, has to make sure everyone knows just how amazing you are. plus, he likes reading the comments. it makes him feel proud of you.)

gojo strokes his leaky dick at night, submitting into his fantasies of shoving your head into a pillow and dragging his sensitive tip across your slit, getting to release his load into your soaked walls.

but, at some point, god must finally be on his side, because ten minutes after your latest livestream, he is met with a dm from you — "how would u like to 2 mess with those controls in person <33"

until he's already hit the back of your throat three times that morning and you're trying to lower yourself to your knees before seeing him off at the front door. a parting gift, you call it! and god does he love the sight of your pretty lips wrapped around his fat cock but he thinks it might fall off with all this use.

he tries everything. letting you sit on a pillow under his desk as he works, so that you can warm his cock with your mouth. he thought that maybe you'd like the weight of it on your tongue enough to sit still for a while, but you can't help but twirl your tongue around his tip and start bobbing your head up and down on his length until he's shooting ropes of hot cum into your mouth.

so then he tries filling your mouth with something else. pushing two fingers between your lips when he's laid in bed with you. but (and this one is on him, he'll admit it) watching you suckle on his long fingers like you so often do on his cock only gets him hard again. he always ends up rutting into you with his fingers pressing down on your tongue anyway.

Because when he first gets yelled at?? 😭😭 he’d be so confused, purely from the fact that it’s the first time anybody’s ever raised their voice at him in years. It’ll probably be at a time when he least expects it too.

Like the 3rd month of dating— you’ve had the worst day of your life week, you’re supposed to get gas on your way home but you skip it and decide to take up Sukuna’s offer of “let me know if you ever need anything”.

Except his reaction to you finally building up the courage to ask for something was the icing on the cake, the final straw.

“Hey babe? Will you put gas in my car?”

“You couldn’t do that on your way back home? The gas stations right down the street.” He lifts a brow and slowly puts his phone down. He’s had a long day too, but at least he got to go home early.

“I know, but I’m just exhausted right now. All I wanted to do was to get back home to you.” An answer that he should be grateful for.

“I’m exhausted too, woman.” He immediately scoffs. “What the fuck do I look like to y—“

“A MAN.” Sukuna swears the earth shook beneath him the moment you started yelling. “YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING MAN. GO BE ONE AND PUT GAS IN MY CAR.”

“…” He stares at you for a moment, feeling different emotions all at once. Annoyance, anger, a tad bit of fear, his pants tightening. After sometime of staring you down in silence, he finally grabs the keys from your hands and grumbles, “I’ll be back in 10.”

a/n: i got this idea from @/trintheweirdo on tt 😭🤣

you’re banging your fists against his chest and screaming at him but he waits until you’re done, let’s you get it all out of your system.

“you done, pretty girl?” and you’re sooooo mad at him but his voice has this weird way of squirming into your brain and doing naughty things to your thoughts.

…well, it was kind of hard to brush him off when he was balls deep inside you.

“fuuuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.” satoru moans, that stupidly pretty grin on his lips as he watches your pussy absolutely swallow up the length of his cock. You tremble from the feeling, struggling to bite back your moans as his thick cock thrusts up into you. You hate the way the sound of his voice makes your body buzz with heat, a mix of embarrassment and lust that you both hate and love.

“so wet and ready for me all the time, aren’t you?” you know part of him does it to get a rise out of you, the sadistic little shit liked watching you squirm and sputter, all flustered at the sound of his voice.

and as per usual, you told yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, “S-Shut up.” you mean for it to come off as a warning but it sounds more like a pitiful whine. You can’t help it with the way he thrusts up into you, mouthing sloppy kisses into your skin in between his sinful words.

“you know you love me.” he sings into your ear, “You loveee the way my cock fills you up, don’t deny it, baby.” as if to further emphasize his point he brings his hands to the meat of your ass, prying you further open and drilling into you, fucking into that spot that drove you insane. You couldn’t even try to hide your disgusting moans and whimpers, nails digging into the skin of his arms as you tried and failed to fight the pleasure.

“what did I say,” he sing-songs, bringing a hand to your clit and rubbing at it with quick circles, “I’ve turned you into such a pretty mess.” of course he still has that Cheshire-sized grin on his face, his crystal eyes mesmerized by the sight of your grinding hips and the slickness you leave along his cock with each thrust he makes into your throbbing pussy. Listening to the desperate little sounds you swore you didn’t make when he pressed a finger to your clit. Rendered absolutely useless. He loved seeing you like this.

“so pretty.” satoru moans, his voice slightly slurring with pleasure, “so—fuck—g-gorgeous all fucked out for me.”

you mustered up what was left of your strength to slap a hand over his lips, silencing him as you shuddered from your orgasm. “shut up, s-satoru.”

But you could see that look in his eyes: framed by those annoyingly pretty white lashes, blue and mischievous—or at least more so than usual. He brought his own hand to your weakening one, pulling your fingers into his mouth and sucking on them with a loud whorish moan, all the while still pounding into you.

“Mnghfuck you, satoru.” You garble, whimpering with overstimulation despite still grinding down against his cock in time with his thrusts, you hated how much he knew you loved being overstimulated, the freaky fuck.

He only hummed in response, too occupied with your fingers to respond, tounging at them like the slut he was, practically deep-throating your index and middle finger. You could feel his chest rumble with amused laughter as he watched you fall apart once again, your skin tingling with the shock of your double orgasm. He followed you soon after, aquamarine eyes rolling into his head as he practically gagged on your fingers, emptying himself into you with a long, drawn out moan.

You tiredly pull your fingers out of his mouth, slightly missing the warmth, and practically fell on top of him. But before your eyes could flutter closed, you felt satoru throb, your cheeks heating as you remember the nasty fucker also had a thing for overstimulation. Of course he did.

You swear as he thrusts into you, fucking his milky cum dripping between your thighs back into you. And despite how much you tell yourself his words were annoying, his murmurs of imagining your fingers as your clit as he sucked at them, drove you to the edge all over again.

Another odd thing about being Ryomen Sukuna’s girlfriend? His tendency to…stalk you. And not even in a purposeful way; he himself doesn’t even realize it.

Often while you’re both out together, he feels the need to always have a hand on you—whether it be on your waist, your lower back, or even encasing your own in his; he will always be touching you. But when he can’t, he looks like an actual Joe Goldberg ass stalker.

Going to get something on the other side of the store? He’s following a few feet behind you, dodging your gaze when you look over your shoulder. Want to get your nails done with some friends? Okay. Sukuna’s just gonna wait outside in his car, looking through the windows of the salon.

He mainly does this in public because he knows you like to feel a sense of independence every now and then. Also, so you don’t get hurt since he knows what kind of men are out there everywhere.

Let’s be honest, he was one of those men before he met you.

But when you’re both at home, it’s a bit of a different story:

You could be walking around the house, minding your own business, and then you suddenly just see the huge monster of a man your boyfriend is, looking at you from around a corner. Most often although, he’ll just walk up behind you and stare at you ominously for no reason.

Sometimes, you start to think he’s mad at you. His red eyes look a shade darker, and his chest rises rapidly, almost as if he were a predator stalking its prey.

But in reality, he’s thinking of all kinds of things in his head as he observes you. And this man thinks he’s being slick about it too…he hasn’t even considered the fact that this behavior could put you off at times. Because how is he supposed to just not look at you when you’re free for him to look at 24/7? Dirty thoughts, random thoughts, domestic thoughts, even thoughts of being the father to your children run his mind; all while he just stares you down like his next meal.

“Uh…Kuna? You good?”

He just grumbles, not even bothering to give a verbal explanation. Why would he? He does everything he wants to anyways.

Well, except for when it comes to you; you could walk him like a dog, even if he’s almost two times your height and weight. But that’s a topic for another time.