in a perfect world, kirishima would wake up next to you in the mornings. he would huddle closer to your warmth and wrap a strong arm around your middle, instead of lying on his back with frigid, restless fingers. he would gently nudge his nose into your cheek, lay kisses down your neck and smile sleepily against the skin when you mumble his name out. he'd quietly greet you with good morning baby, and you’d murmur it back just as lovingly, and he'd instinctually know the day would be a good one because there is nothing that could ruin the beauty in this moment with you. he wouldn’t gaze at you with eyes that crave too much of what they believe they can’t have, or roll onto his side and squeeze his eyes shut until stars twinkle in the artificial darkness. he wouldn’t rise from the bed alone.

in a perfect world, kirishima would take you to all of his niche comfort spots. he’d bring you to the lonely abandoned park he used to frequent in middle school when he wanted to clear his head of all the thoughts that rattled around in it. he’d gently curl his fingers between your own and bare bits of himself to you. he’d try his best to answer your questions instead of diverting the topic or giving barren answers. he’d force a crack in the mask he wears for everyone else and show you the real face beneath it.

in a perfect world, kirishima would shower with you and allow only steam and laughter to collect between your lips. there wouldn’t be frozen silences bearing all the hurt festering in your hearts, all the obscenities you’ve screamed at each other and all the regrets you haven’t expressed. he would cuddle on the couch with you instead of sitting on the opposite end, wipe away the crumbs at the corner of your mouth instead of wordlessly handing you a tissue. he wouldn’t sit in his apartment with empty bottles next to him, obsessing over the wires of insecurity pulling taut around his heart, preventing him from realizing the desires sitting tangibly in his tongue. he would be strong enough to believe in his own goodness and offer it to you on devoted palms.

crack natasha seems to be the champ here 😳

cries

just the complete contrast of their demeanors would make your brain dizzy :((

tadashi stroking your cheek as you gag around the thick width of his cock, sighing about how you look so pretty like this, drooling all over him. his hips bucking up whenever you swallow around him, and he tells you how good your throat feels, how well you're taking both of them. just looking up at him beneath your lashes to see him throw his head back, soft whines and pretty moans leaving his lips, the breathless little grin he sends you making you whimper and clench your cunt tighter.

and then there's tsukishima. mean, brutal tsukishima, with bruising grips on your hips and harsh thrusts into your pussy. who pushes your head down further on tadashi's cock, just to hear you choke and cry harder around him. who tells how you filthy you are, for taking them both like this, for needing two cocks to get off. who pinches and rolls your sensitive clit just to watch your body shake and arch for him. who laughs when he hears you beg for more, says you're a dirty little whore, you still want more? and doesn't let up on the overstimulated spot in your cunt until you're completely brainless and dumb.

mhm <33

tags: dark content (-ish?), yandere/villain!denki, mentions of murder, blood, & electrostim, afab!reader who wears a skirt, based off of this || nsfw, minors & ageless blogs DNI.

villain denki who's known as one of the most dangerous killers on the loose, not because he has a high kill count or targets particular heroes, but because of how utterly sadistic and gruesome his murders are. who doesn't kill for a political agenda or because he has a goal, but because he loves the way blood shines on a blade and gets high on the sound of his victims being shocked to death.

villain denki who eventually finds that killing has become a little boring. he laments the fact that they all sound and end up looking the same way—why can't there at least be some variety? who thinks that maybe he just needs a challenge, an exciting obstacle to overcome, and decides to let himself get captured by committing the sloppiest murder imaginable and essentially handing himself over to the police.

villain denki who tilts his head when he sees little old you walk up to his cell. pretty, is the first thing he thinks of. would be prettier on their knees, is the second. who smiles charmingly and raises his eyebrows when you introduce yourself as his therapist, because someone who giggles and mocks the pleas of his victims for his own pleasure can apparently still be helped.

"what are you doin'?"

you're startled by the gruff voice, and when you turn around, you find your boyfriend padding tiredly across the wooden flooring. his thick socks muffle his footsteps, and a corner of your lip turns up at your memories of his constant gripes with the cold weather.

"why are you up?" you counter instead, subtly pushing your bowl of food to the side. you're not exactly trying to hide it, but you know he'll take it as a personal offence that he hadn't fed you enough and grouch about the issues of eating at such a late hour.

katsuki, of course, doesn't miss the movement. even in his exhausted state, his observational skills remain sound. his eyes cut to the ceramic bowl poking out behind your arm, and narrow.

he ignores your question, "it's three am."

"yeah," you say slowly, "it is. that's why i'm tryna' know why you're up."

he shuffles over to where you're sitting on the dinner table, and takes a seat.

"couldn't feel you next t'me," he grumbles, his eyebrows bunched inwards above his half-lidded eyes. his nose scrunches up subconsciously, and the sight of your boyfriend so sleepy sends your heart palpitating and your fingers itching to squeeze his cheeks, "why are you eating so late? was dinner not enough?"

you breathe a laugh through your nose at your correct assumption from earlier, and shake your head, "t'was plenty, baby. i just got some midnight cravings."

"s'not good t'eat so late."

you grin and shift closer to him, "i know, baby, s'just a once in a while thing."

his bottom lips juts out the tiniest bit, and god, you want to kiss this man silly.

"well, hurry up. i wanna go back to bed."

you quirk an eyebrow up, "you can go back by yourself, and i'll come once i'm finished."

his bed hair flops around when he shakes his head, sighing as he slumps down a little in his seat and crosses his arms, "no. i'll go back to bed with you."

your grin widens, and you lean into him to plant a heartful kiss on his soft lips. he falls into it, and releases a shallow breath when you slowly swipe your tongue across his bottom lip. you don't care to deepen it any more, choosing instead to pull back with a gratified smile, just far enough to see him lick his bottom lip and hum at the leftover flavour from your tongue.

"how is it?" you murmur, bringing a hand up to gently brush away the few strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face.

"s'nice. could've made it better."

you chuckle lightly, placing a short peck on his mouth, before moving away to bring your bowl back to you. you pick up a spoon, and take another look at the man you love.

oh god the image that js flashed in my mind ,,,

him seeing you do whatever, he doesn't know even know what it is but all he's aware of is that it has you focused and he js thinks you look so unfairly attractive. gets the visceral urge to see your clear & concentrated eyes go blurry with tears and glaze over with desire, wants to pull away your lip that's been between your teeth and take it between his own. the little satisfaction he gets when you shiver at the cold touch of his hand on your jaw, pulling you away from your task and turning you towards him. gives you enough time to send him a confused little look before he's bringing his lips to yours and swallowing your gasp. there's no teasing or buildup, it's immediately open mouthed and slick, but his movements are slow in the way he slides his tongue past your lips and licks at the roof of your mouth, in the way he moves the soft muscle against your own and sighs into it.

it's dirty, when he pulls back to take a quick breath before going back in, doesn't even allow the string of spit between you two to properly formulate. when he bites at your lip and sucks at your tongue, letting your tiny whimpers and whines wash over him. there's spit trailing down the corner of your mouth but you can't bring yourself to care, not when he shifts his focus down to lick it up and continues the downward movements along your jaw. not when his fingers, cold and long and a wonderful contrast to the warmth of your mouth slither past your lips to give you something else to suck on.

it's heady and addicting and forces a wave of arousal out of your cunt, makes your thighs tense up and push sharply together. you find yourself moaning around the fingers fucking your mouth and wanting to take them deeper, to feel them hit the back of your throat and making your eyes tear up and properly gag. it's almost too much, to feel him suck harsh marks into your skin, his tongue flicking and teeth grazing as he stakes claim after claim on you and pushes a strong thigh between your legs.

it's desperate and whorish, the way you scramble to snap your legs closed between the muscles and grind on your clit, shutting your eyes and letting out choked gasps and whines at the stimulation. it's embarrassing, to hear him chuckle at your sloppy movements and tell you how pretty you look so needy for him, and is it really that easy to get you so desperate?

it makes your body flush hot and your hips move faster, sorry pleas stuck in your throat and forcing it to tighten up and swallow around his fingers.

mutuals send me a character you selfship with

"baby, where'd the cat go?"

sakusa doesn't look up from his phone.

you stop in front of him, crossing your arms and staring at him.

"kiyoomi. where's the damn cat."

he grumbles, looking up at you through his hoodie pulled low over his face.

"why would i know where that demon spawn went?"

you sigh, rolling your neck. very subtly, he sits up a little straighter. you notice, but don't comment.

"because," you begin patiently, "he is our cat, meaning he is our responsibility. meaning we need to know where he is at least 75% of the time."

"not like i wanted the hairy thing," he mumbles, fingers playing with the lace of his hoodie.

"well, you sure looked like you wanted to adopt him as your legal son when he slept next to you yesterday," you retort, "so don't give me that. at this rate, he'll be replacing me by next month."

his mouth drops open, and he's clearly very ready to argue, but you cut him off before he gets the chance to.

"where is he?" you press.

he shrugs dramatically, eyebrows raising and hands held out innocently in front of him, "i don't know! i don't always keep track of where he is."

you're about to snap back when a knock on the door stops you.

you furrow your eyebrows at him, but he simply shrugs his shoulders again.

of course.

you gripe under your breath as you make your way to the apartment entrance, plastering on the most congenial smile you can muster before opening the door.

your neighbor stands in front of you with his wild green hair and atrocious t-shirt (that quite literally says 't-shirt'). his feet shift every so often in nerves, but that's not what catches your attention.

no. it's the large, black cat blinking at you that makes your mouth drop open.

here i am, you irresponsible parent, he says.

then your neighbor starts talking a mile a minute.

"i'm so sorry to bother you, i know it's sort of early but i heard something scratching at my door this morning and at first i thought it was my imagination, then that i must be going crazy, and i didn't originally wanna open the door because that's the kind of thing that gets people killed in horror movies, so i don't know why i did anyway, but i'm glad i did because it was your cat! or, at least, i think it's your cat? i've seen him hanging around you guys so i assumed but honestly i'm not quite too sure now? oh my god, please tell me this is your cat because if it's not then this—"

"yes! yes, you were right," you quickly put a stop to his rambling, holding your hands out to him, "please don't worry, this is my cat, and i was just looking for him," your voice rises at the end of your sentence. you can imagine the wince on your boyfriend’s face.

"oh," he blinks, then visibly deflates, "that's good. very—very good." carefully, he hands the ball of fur over to you.

you smile weakly back at him, "yeah. i, uh, actually really need to go, but—thank you! for bringing him back," you wiggle the cat in your arms.

"oh, s'no problem! of course not, not at all."

"great! have a good rest of your day," you get out, before shutting the door.

you pause, feeling a little guilty.

you yank it open.

"again, thank you so, so much," you repeat, before firmly closing it for the last time.

a beat passes in silence in your apartment, broken only by the sound of your cat meowing. he hops off your arms and lands swiftly on the floor, slinking away into the hallway.

from the living room, sakusa calls out, "at least now you know where he is?"