Tulip 🌷

with this tiny denim mini skirt on, one that reveals your shiny legs and he’s sure that if you move too fast it’s gonna tug up and reveal your ass cheeks. bakugou grits his teeth.

then the top you’re wearing, this pretty patterned light piece that’s sleeveless and shows off your chest. your breasts are lifted and plush and he’s seen them bare so many times that he’s wondering how the hell you’ve got them like that. they’re also shiny, oil catching the light of the lamp and making them glisten. bakugou exhales out of his nose.

then when he really pays attention to your face, you look a little different, more enhanced. dark black eye makeup. smoky with a wing and it makes your eyes look sharper, intimidating, fuck… sexy. even your eyebrows are thicker and you’ve got this dark pink blush on the apples of your cheeks. it’s when he looks at your lips with this coloured gloss that bakugou feels like he’s crumbling away while his lower half tightens.

he’s never seen you dressed up. he’s taken you out on dates sure, but not dates that require you to dress like this. a casual restaurant usually. you both have been so casual that your relationship doesn’t really extend past your homes, unless it includes him dragging you to eat a rice bowl with him after you just had a long shift.

bakugou’s next breath is shaky, his hand combing through his hair, “where are you goin’?”

you smile, excitement clear in your face. “our favourite dj is playing in an event in the city. we got these early tickets months ago and it’s finally tonight.”

we being your nosy little friend group. “who’s the dj?”

you list one off to him and he nods, storing this information at the back of his head. maybe he could book this person for your birthday? fuck, maybe that’s too much.

bakugou’s hand drifts to your waist, he’s just about to comment on how you look but as he drags you in to press your body against his, you pipe up again.

“also, sorry to be a pain but do you think you could drop me off? the club is on your way home,” and you have the audacity to look shy when you ask, hooking your ring covered finger into his belt loop.

“course. you’re never a pain, c’mon now,” he grunts like you’re silly. then, with his finger running down the hem of your top, skimming the soft skin of your breasts, “i’ve never seen you dolled up before. y’look gorgeous.”

bakugou believes it’s a defense mechanism that you roll your eyes whenever he compliments you. like you refuse to acknowledge what his words actually mean to you. in fact, it’s his words that make you untangle from him with a squeeze of his bicep.

“thanks, i try sometimes,” you joke. you point to his shoes, “take these off and come with me.”

bakugou perches himself in your rocking chair in the corner of your bedroom because if anyone’s gonna have one of these old wooden things, it’s you. you once told him someone left it outside their house and you carried it all the way home. bakugou frowned and stated “that’s stealin’ babe," to which you laughed, “no, rich boy. people leave stuff they don’t want outside for anyone to pick up all the time.”

he’s lucky he even fits in the chair and it can hold his weight. he’s not allowed to sit on your bed with his outside jeans on. bakugou eyes the books on the table to his left— textbooks relevant to your phd, then your laptop, screen open but shut down.

“did you finish your presentation? want me to check it over?” you ask him to do that sometimes because he’s actually ‘smarter than you thought.’ your words, not his, usually said not meant to sound mean but it is just a little.

you’re cleaning your ears with a cotton bud, bouncing around your room like you’re in a rush. bakugou’s not sure why considering the event will probably finish at 6am.

“no, it’s okay. i’ve checked it so many times i could probably recite it backwards.”

he hums in response. he’d actually just like to see it, he enjoys learning about whatever topic you’re currently studying. but now he’s between education and looking at you pulling off your top and holding up another one.

“‘tsuki, which is better? this one or the last one?”

you’ve got a padded push up bra on. that’s the only reason why he can reason why your breasts look like that. it’s enough for him to want to stroke one out, right here in someone’s dead grandfather’s chair while you rummage through your drawers. he blinks.

“your tits look fuckin’ insane, baby.”

a word he saves for when nobody has clothes on, when you’re whining in his neck, ass cheeks slapping onto his thighs. it means you know how he’s feeling immediately. your eyes drift to his jeans, which is tented just enough to be noticed.

“katsuki! pay attention. which one do you prefer?”

“try that one on f’me.”

you do, shuffling the top on as to not mess up your face or hair. you don’t want to be his girlfriend, you’re not ready or some shit. but he gets some taste of the lifestyle with you. like you checking yourself out in the mirror, pouting unsure. then you walking over to him so he gets a better look. 

but you being closer means another chance to touch, his large palm drifting up your thigh and pinching the bottom of your ass. you yelp, swatting his hand away but he only takes that as a chance to link your fingers, swinging your hands back and forth. 

bakugou ignores your question, cocking his head to the side. your skin heats under his piercing gaze, staring at you from top to bottom.

“when people talk to you tonight, are you gonna say you’re single?”

you know that whatever this thing is you have with bakugou katsuki will last until he gets tired of your bullshit. your cutting around the corners, avoiding certain topics. it’s in this moment that you realise usually he’s good at ignoring the elephant in the room until jealousy and possession appears. the possibility of someone taking his place.

you can’t even imagine someone else being who he is to you. even though you’re scared of letting him that power, giving yourself to him completely. it feels as if you’re still in that grey area where he can leave now with no strings attached. but it’s all false, there’s so many red strings connecting you both, so many that soon someone’s going to get strangled.

“who says anyone’s going to talk to me?”

bakugou’s sat like he owns the building, legs spread and arms on both rests. what’s worse is that he could afford your building if he wanted. it’s a goddamn wooden rocking chair he’s sitting on and yet it looks like a throne under him. ever the guy to leave his house with only his phone, keys and lip balm. donned in a simple white tee and black jeans. your attraction to bakugou is above physicalities at this point but oh, the physicalities. he’s gorgeous with his eyes in suspicious slits, a new scar across his eyebrow and now a hand coming to grab your thigh so you sit on his lap. your skirt is so short that you both know your underwear is completely visible to him.

“maybe if they’re fuckin’ blind they won’t. don’t play dumb with me.”

you’re perched on him, still holding his hand. it’s intimate in a way that scares you. especially when he levels you with a stare that demands honesty, like you’re holding his heart in your hands, depending on your answer.

you huff, looking at your magazine rack on your shelf. he left one in your bedroom when he was here last week. it’s a men’s health one and you’ve got no business having a men’s health magazine but the man himself was on the cover. smirking, shirtless holding a sparkler between his fingers. you love the image but you hate that the world has seen him how you see him. not that he holds sparklers in your room but smirking and half naked? that’s your katsuki. this part of bakugou’s fame, while you barely have 300 followers on instagram, is odd and very new. anyway, you tucked it behind a magazine cover of your favourite singer when you knew he was on his way.

“i… i won’t say i’m single.” you say under your breath, finally meeting his eyes.

bakugou hums like you gave the correct answer. it’s rare you get him like this, so sure of himself, almost cocky with it. he scoots you by your ass further down his legs. then he places his free hand on your hip, his fingers spread to squeeze.

“what’re you gonna say?”

“i’m seeing someone. which i am… you.”

his smirk resembles the one on the magazine, resting his head back on the chair and peering down at you through his dark lashes. he rewards you by dragging you to his lips with a peck that slowly turns into your tongues brushing against each other and him sticking his down your throat.

he keeps it slow on purpose to taunt you, you know this, but still you lean into it. your head tilts and you’re grabbing the top of the chair right by his head as he slouches, right before you know it, lustful wet kisses become you grinding on his crotch.

“that was the right answer, baby.” he groans between kisses, grabbing your hips for stability with every rock of your hips.

“you wouldn’t have let me out of your sight if i said anything else.”

he chuckles, deep and gravelly, “damn right.”

after a quick fondle and three orgasms between you both later, bakugou demands you change your jacket to your warmer winter one.

“but this one is cute! some would even say cun—,”

“you’re gonna freeze.”

“i’m not paying for the cloakroom and you’re dropping me off so i’m not even gonna be outside.”

bakugou squints his eyes at you, crosses his arms over his chest. he’s standing at your front door like a bodyguard and you don’t have vip access.

“you’re the one standing here in a t-shirt!”

“you’re tellin’ me you have no cigs in your bag? you’re not gonna be in the smokin’ area?”

god forbid a girl likes a cigarette in one hand, a drink in another and good music in the back. you fling your head back in a groan.

“stop knowing everything!” you snatch your keys to plop in your bag and bakugou grins like a maniac. he likes the idea of knowing everything about you.

“puffer jacket, baby. if i was insane i’ll tell you to put jeans on to keep warm but i love your legs too much to say that.”

especially when they were over his shoulders a second ago.

“then you should also know you can’t tell me what to wear,” you huff, “i’m keeping this jacket. you can pick me up after if you care so much about me being warm.”

bakugou plops on your chair to tug his boots on. he feels like he won with that response, “i can pick you up after. just text me.”

he sounds so final. as if it’s a fact that he will be there.

“oh… i didn’t mean that seriously,” you mumble but he’s already up, kissing the corner of your lips because you just touched up your makeup. you look like a doll, showing more skin than clothed while he looks like he’s about to strip and head to bed any moment now. doesn’t he wake up at stupid o’ clock? he’d be dropping you back home and then heading straight to work.

“i did,” he swings open your front door, letting you scoot out first with a pat on your ass. you’ve got away with your little jacket. “text me when you’re almost done. i’ll drop your friends home too if they want.”

he’s might be pushing the limits here, an inch further into your life. making himself useful so everyone likes him more. maybe if he gets your friends on his side, you will follow after. first impressions, right?

“i’ll see, katsuki. we usually just get the bus.”

you sound blunt but you slip your hand into his when he shuts the door to your apartment.

“stop fuckin’ with me. i’ll pick you up,” he lets go of your hand so his left holds your left across his body and he can swing an arm around your shoulders, “by the way, where’s your roommate?”

you’re overwhelmed with his affection, though you can’t say you hate it. not at all. you inhale his scent, worn and tired after a long day at work. part of you considers turning back and cuddling this hunk of a man into your creaky old sofa. 

“i think she’s with that guy she went on a date with? she only comes over to get more clothes. means i’m gonna have the apartment for myself for a while.”

you’re grinning up at him, flirtatious with your long lashes as he walks you out your building. despite everything, bakugou still burns at the fact he’s not officially yours.

“we’re gonna have a marathon. we don’t have her tellin’ us to shut the fuck up.”

your gasp turns into bubbles of laughter as he opens the door to his black porsche.

“so inappropriate.”

“movie marathon, babe.”

GREYSCALE MASTERLIST

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you laugh, stilted, a little awkward. “no, i’m just saying she said that. the water and electricity bills are expensive.”

once you've got the curtains drawn, you stare outside the window for a moment. the buses along the road, the independent food businesses and a mini supermarket at the corner. then you potter back to your double bed and lay down again, looking over at bakugou.

bakugou went from having a privileged life as an only child with two upper middle class parents to a privileged life living alone in a penthouse in the city centre without much time to adjust to adult life. not like you did. as soon as he finished school he was given agency offers and six figure brand deals. getting paid as a pro hero is easy, sponsors always are asking for his services and he gets pretty big bonuses from the commission for being in the top five consistently. he never had to be considerate of a roommate or of his water usage.

you were only two years younger than him, a student doing your phd and somehow it feels like you’ve lived so much more than him despite having worked in all the continents and being able to afford anything he’s ever wanted. your bedroom was proof of it. 

bakugou studies your trinkets along your shelves, tiny little detailed figurines in little outfits, some larger ones of your favourite characters. a hand painted porcelain animal set and vinyls hung across your wall.  every book spine is a different colour, none the same shade as the last. when you’re in the shower he loves to read a blurb, a romance book to a psychology one to an art book. you’ve got postcards and cards stuck to your wall, from your friends, your family and your own travels. your room breathes life in a way his whole greyscale apartment just doesn’t. 

you have the nerve to make life look easy, just laying on your bed at midday in his t-shirt.

“i fuckin’ know bills are expensive, yn.”

bakugou doesn’t though, not in the same way you’re counting cash at the end of the month and selling your boots online to get by. you just have to quirk your eyebrow at him and he grunts, fluffing up his bed head and crawling back into bed with you. back at his penthouse he would have started his day at five am, already showered, been to the gym and been at his agency doing paperwork.

“i’ll send you money if you need it. i can order breakfast in for us,” bakugou mumbles under his breath, caging you into him with both his forearms by your head. 

you’re so beautiful on your striped pillow case, every scar and blemish visible on your face. the neckline of his shirt slightly hangs off your shoulder and bakugou doesn’t think before he kisses it.

“wait, that wasn’t even the point. just that she didn’t sign up to have a man hanging around here half of the week,” you inhale sharply when soft lips linger on your neck, slowly drawing a line upwards to behind your ear.

“i’ll be gone before she’s back. she’s got a lot to say when i’ve never fuckin’ met her.”

“we can feel your masculine energy change the vibe in the house. why else do we burn incense in the hallway?” you giggle and if it wasn’t for the laugh bakugou would have taken you seriously… he thinks you partly still are. his crotch presses against your stomach, but no one does anything about it.

bakugou sighs deeply, forehead resting on your shoulder though he still planks over you like the weight of him would crush you. he could just invite you over to his place, none of this would be an issue but he’s always drawn to your flat on the outskirts of town, where it’s quieter during the day and louder in the evenings. where he can see a polaroid strip of you at every age starting from thirteen. bakugou sets a mental reminder to get plants for his own home but the thought of having to throw away a dead one deems the whole idea pointless.

your laughs die down and bakugou lifts his head to stare at you. the shape of your lips, the sleepy creases around your eyes and the light hickey bruise on your neck from last night. he stares for two seconds too long before your tone changes. your body gets a little stiffer like he was so close to breaking down one of your walls and you built it back up just in time.

you’re frowning at him, a little crease between your brows and your eyes sharp. 

“what? why’re you looking at me like that?”

he met you through that celebrity dating app, otherwise you would have never crossed paths. you only got on there because your friend’s cousin referred you.

“like what?” he slurs, biceps thick and tensed at your head.

bakugou can imagine being infiltrated into your room. a photo of him and you in the thrifted frame by your bed. his new men’s health cover in your magazine rack out for display. even his new figurine that came out last month, he would give you one to put on your shelf. but you always have him on the edge. the edge of your life, the edge of you.

he hears you on the phone to your friends when he arrives early to see you. everything about you is more open, smile a little larger and he always ends up hearing a random fact about you that he didn’t know before just from eavesdropping. lily pollen allergy, noted. when you have a quick conversation with your roommate in the hallway and you get through five topics in a minute. then to him you share just as much as you want to. nothing slipping through the gaps. your personality, your personhood is surrounding him in your room but you’re still not quite letting him in.

“looking like i did something wrong.”

bakugou shakes his head as your hands rubs along his bare sides, then his muscled shoulders and then you hold his cheeks. he doesn’t know what the fuck to do about you.

“you’ve not done shit wrong. just that… for fucks sake.”

he’s not fond of the tall green vine plant in the corner of your room. it always feels like it will become conscious and swipe at his ankles.

you pout a little, dragging your thumb over his eyebrow, softening bakugou out so his next words come out smooth.

“what katsuki?”

“you know i like you, right? i wanna properly date you. introduce you to my friends, meet my ‘rents?” 

you nod in slow motion, eyes like a scared rabbit. this is what bakugou doesn’t know about you. the fear with commitment. where the fuck does it come from? you’re okay with your parents and siblings. you’ve had a boyfriend for three months, two years ago. is it him?

“speak, baby. you look terrified at the idea,” he breathes.

“i know you like me and i do like you, i like what we have at the moment.” you say, keeping your tone light, tilted.

bakugou groans like you whipped a wax strip off his legs, hanging his head over yours and then rolling off you. 

“it’s like pullin’ teeth with you. what the fuck is it?” he flattens his palm over his face, roughly rubbing his eyes like everything will be clearer after. “did someone hurt you or somethin’? do you not want me?”

“that’s three questions, katsuki.” you’re facing the ceiling, hands clasped over your chest.

never did he think he’d be attracted to someone as emotionally constipated as himself, though he knows you’re not. he hears how you are with your friends, you tell him how you tell your friends everything.

“tell me what the issue is and i can fuck off after.” 

telling a man your insecurities is like feeding wagyu to a dog. he eats it up, uses it later to bring you up and tear you down. your issues are a classic. another man ruined you, broke your heart and you’ve always struggled to come up from it. you’re not trying to be so depressed again, not over a fucking man. you can imagine how much worse the pain would be, coming from one as gorgeous and inescapable as bakugou katsuki, number 5 hero. if you date and end horribly you’d see him in your house, in your dreams, on the billboard across the road. you give him enough so he doesn’t bite.

“i’ve just got lots of uni work to do at the moment, all due in the upcoming months and i don't know if i can take on all of that and the pressure of a new relationship. what we have now is easy, ‘tsuki.” you sniff, laying on your side, resting your elbow in your mattress and head in your palm, “ask me another time when life has quietened down.”

bakugou doesn’t know how much he buys that excuse. you’re busy with uni and your part time job but you still have time for him and your friends. how much will the added boyfriend label change your life? he sinks his white teeth into his plush bottom lip, fascinated at how your eyes don’t give anything away now.

he’s got mountains of paperwork constantly, a week long mission abroad to plan for and the hero commission is up his ass for how he handled a situation last week. a photoshoot tomorrow and a brand dinner in the evening. his life is busier than yours and he can find ways to fit you in because he wants to. 

“fine,” he cocks his jaw, blinking at you. bakugou gets ready to sit up again, roll out of your bed, “i’ll shower and be out your space.”

you nod, pleased with that conversation.

“not yet though. she will be back in a few hours.” 

bakugou lets you pull his shoulder so he’s back laying down as you climb to straddle his waist. your crotch is bare on his toned abdomen, face a blossomed flower with your small smile like you're shy to get what you want from him. the shyness is faux but he plays into it because it gets him hard.

your palms are flat on his pectorals, fingertips brushing over his nipples before sneaking up to squeeze at his shoulder muscles. you sigh in bliss, running your thumb across the scar on his cheek.

“what do you want?” bakugou mumbles, eyes half lidded. aroused. he can see your nipples poke through his t-shirt you’ve got on and you’re chewing your lip like you’d rather be chewing him instead.

“i…,” you trail off, reaching behind you to grab at his cock beneath his underwear. his hips jolt up without warning, attempting to thrust in your palm, “i want you.”

not exactly the context he wants those words in but he’ll take it all the same.

“take the top off. sit on me.”

GREYSCALE MASTERLIST

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he’s got this deadpan look on his face. like he’s got botox inserted everywhere and can barely move besides the crinkle between his eyebrows every fifteen minutes. he’s all pent up and he knows this isn’t the place to share how he feels. instead, he can live in this in-between state with you.

“‘m alright,” is all he manages before he slams his face into yours for a kiss.

you know your bodies so well, that it’s pretty easy to get riled up. he just has to sneak under your snoodie to pinch your waist, you just have to tug a tuft of his hair by the crown of his head.

it’s all enough for moans to tumble out and the air to thicken.

“your roommate home?” he mumbles in your ear, sucking your earlobe as he’s about to tug off your clothes. way too many layers for whatever he’s about to do to you.

“n-no. she’s on a date.”

“hm. good for her.”

instead of dragging you to your room, the room that only makes bakugou yearn for more, he settles for less. lifting you to plop you on your living room sofa.

you’ve got a small flatscreen tv that you have to connect to a dongle at the back to make it smart with all those apps. there’s board games and card games under the wooden coffee table and piles of blankets of different themes slung over the sofa. a halloween one, a christmas one, a fluffy beach one. who needs a fluffy blanket during the summer? beach balls and sun loungers pictured all over it. it just pisses bakugou off more.

he’s got his teeth nibbling your neck, before he yanks off your snoodie to leave you in a white vest. you’re laying across the sofa, legs wide enough for him to slot himself between.

you can tell something’s up. if not his few words, it’s how impatient every action he makes is. it’s a harsh movement to separate your thighs. he’s leaning more of his body over you than usual and it’s suffocating. the bites on your neck, they feel like they might draw blood.

“wait, wait,” you say, grabbing his face between both hands to hold him above you. 

you’re surprised to find him panting, scarlet pupils shades dimmer than usual.

“what?” he presses his crotch over yours, the thin layer of your shorts doing nothing to protect you. it almost makes you want to ignore the clear problem in the room because you know how good he can make you feel. though it doesn’t feel right.

“are you sure you’re alright? you’re not acting your usual self.”

bakugou doesn’t have enough fingers to list everything that’s bothering him recently and you cover at least three fingers. he just wants a release of it all, in any way he can.

he sighs, grinds against you again. “i always come over with my dick hard. what’s the issue now?”

that makes you blink, push him off you and there’s a space between you both on your three seater sofa. you’ve never dealt with bakugou katsuki anything but his usual grumpy self who loves to be here and wait on you. he’d follow you around your little apartment listening to what you say, buy ingredients to just cook in your kitchen while you watch. you’ve snuggled in your bed to watch a movie on your laptop more times than you remember. although, all those times ended in sex, it just sounds awful putting it like that.

bakugou understands your reaction immediately. you’re cringing away from him, tilting your head confused like he’s an essay question you don’t want to start.

“sorry, i just…”

you both have never climbed this fence. this isn’t who you are for him, as much as he wants it to be. if he opens this door to his life, who says you’d even walk through?

but you’re pawing at his chest as he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“just tell me what’s up. then we can go back to normal.”

bakugou wants to. he wants to confide in you, hear your resolutions on his week, he wants you to wrap him up in a cuddle even though he knows once he feels it from you, he’ll crave it every time.

“work’s been shit.” he grunts, staring straight forward at your old fireplace that’s surrounded by candles you and your friends have collected. there’s also a pile of books beside it that he’s going to move later. fire hazard.

you respond in all the way he wants. a small purr in sympathy, rubbing his chest like he’s a baby that needs to be burped. you even rest a leg over his lap to be as close to him as possible.

“wanna talk about it?”

he flings his arm around your shoulder, looking down at you to find you looking up at him. he rubs his eyes so hard he sees stars after.

“katsuki… or i can put something on for us?”

it’s not in your job description to be caring for him like this. he’s not sure if you’re pretending to care so you can continue having sex without him acting like a rabid animal in heat.

“no, just the commission is on my ass for a bunch of shit. i’ve got a goddamn mission coming up next week, a new publicist and we haven’t got any new info on the target since last month. on top of that, i’m just exhausted. don’t have it in me to give a fuck about anythin’.”

you nod through it all, your arm draped over his chest in half a hug. you surprise him when you peck his cheek softly.

“sounds like you need a day off. it’s like you’re in writer's block at the moment.”

bakugou half laughs, “heroes don’t really get days off, baby. constantly on call.”

you sigh petulantly, “then you need to find a way to let this all drain out of you day to day so you can come back to it with a fresh head. when i have writers block i just consume whatever i need to write in another way and then go back to it.”

for him that’s practicing his special attacks, doing research before giving it to his team. it’s called talking to someone about it so it can leave his system.

“is that what they’re teaching you in university?” he’s trying to mock but it just comes out a tired breath.

you kiss his neck, “yes they are. who else has pissed you off, dynamight? i know there’s a few people on that list.”

your eyes are expectant, your thumb massaging his bicep. he wants to list you first. that he wants you to be his girlfriend, for you to trust him but you’re still not up for it. another roundabout reason for him to wait while you get your cards in order. whatever that means.

so bakugou sinks further in your sofa that’s way too soft from wear and hugs you into his chest.

“if you let me start, i’m not gonna stop until you kick me.”

“let me hear it.”

the blonde goes on a rant that would probably scare any normal person off. how he damaged a building beyond repair and commission is angry at him. how there’s an issue that they want to drop him on hero ranks but the public still keep voting him high. how his publicist he recently hired pisses him off and wants him to be kinder? what part of his job role requires him to be kind?

that makes you laugh, “you’re kind to me.”

“well yeah, that’s because you’re my…”

the air gets colder in the room and bakugou cannot find a word for it. you refuse to have a label.

“what’s he like?” you fill the silence.

“she. she follows me around in events. wants me to wear my hero colours more. i’m not wearing an orange shirt to a fuckin’ charity event. sayin’ i need to stop swearin’ in press interviews but if you’re talkin’ to me, you know what you’re gonna get.”

you shrivel up, biting your tongue for whatever stupidness that’s about to leave your mouth. the sound of another woman around your katsuki. it sounds like one of those forced proximity, enemies to lovers, romance books you love to read. you want to push her into moving traffic. he’s not even your boyfriend.

“just fire her. you’re literally four on the charts through public opinion. why do you need a publicist?”

he takes what you say, completely missing the jealousy that seethes through you. “kaminari’s got one. said she helped him.”

“yeah because he needed it,” your hand is on his cheek, “you don’t. the people like you how you are. can’t change on them now.”

“yeah. you’re probably right.”

it’s a few seconds of silence but it’s not awkward. it’s a comfortable cuddle on the sofa. bakugou feels lighter, closer to you too.

“have you eaten? i can whip somethin’ up for us.”

you shrug, “i’m not hungry yet. do you feel better now? you’re not gonna claw my clothes off and bite my ear?”

bakugou flushes, a deep red diluting his cheeks to match his eyes. “i was just pent up. i shoulda went gym and punched shit before i came here.”

you adjust to straddle his lap, “it’s okay, just tell me next time so i can prepare for the pain.”

his hands sit on your thighs and slide under your shorts to your ass. “you liked it?”

“under the confusion, somewhat.”

bakugou grins, his first one for tonight as you begin kissing down his neck, your hands tugging the hem of his jumper.

“off.”

he listens, because the only thing he’s sure about is that doing what you tell him keeps you happy and around. keeps him happy too once he shoves away his wants, that will only rise to the surface soon.

likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for the next part. thanks xox